Cosmic Creations - Edition #2 [AI With A Human Touch] | Alien Art Hive Community Contest

Hello Alien Art Hive Community members. This is my second entry in the AAH community contests. I'm happy to participate and bring my version of "AI With A Human Touch". My approach to this second contest was that of a human caught in a difficult situation. To accompany the art entry is my short story delving into the particulars a young lady finds herself in defending her family.

This month's theme: AI With A Human Touch

• Create art related to the above theme
• Make a post about it in Alien Art Hive
• Include the words Cosmic Creations in the title so they are easy to identify in the feed
• Please try to include some process images and discuss the techniques used in your creation
• Drop a link to your entry post the comments below
• The deadline is July 11th Midnight EST
• To participate, visit the contest post: Cosmic Creations Edition #2 is LIVE: Theme AI with a human touch

My short story accompanying my themed-project is below:

It's not often one wakes to a morning that will forever change one'sn way of life.

It was the clatter of the horses outside as they passed that echoed in Haley's ear and roused her from a slight languor. Wiping her eyes, with one swift move, she tossed the coverlet aside and strode toward the window. An early morning gray still blanketed the air. She tugged until a cool blast penetrated her nightgown.

Looking down upon the road in front of their home, three riders dressed in uniform sat tall in the saddle. Two dismounted and stood in front of the house as if guarding it from harm.

The full morning meal still waited to be served, yet a range of unfamiliar voices responding to verbal orders floated up from below.

Haley bolted from the window as several high-stepping thuds grew closer to her door. Silence. Standing in front of the door, she waited. Her eyes darted around the room before it settled on her weapon, freshly cleaned the night before.

The intruder could count himself lucky that day as his footsteps retreated down the mansion's hall.

Haley tiptoed toward the door and peeked out.

She returned to the safety of her room, dressed, then followed the path of the footsteps.

She paused and placed her ear to the doors of her two younger sisters, confirmring they had yet to stir. It was a good thing. They would only contribute to confusion.

At the end of the hallway, she eased down the stairs searching furtively in all directions. Her father's whereabouts circled her thoughts. She worried the situation involved him.

Within minutes, a loud, husky authoritative voice from behind her father's study answered as it lashed out.

"You'll be hanged for this! The Crown doesn't tolerate insolence. In arrears you are. Elated, the countryside will rejoice hearing of your affliction; losing not only your title, but your estate as well. An example you'll be made of to all under the cloak of rebellion inflaming others to hold back on their levy."

Haley tiptoed toward the door. She dared not open it, but instead pressed her ear. Knowing his personality and stance on all issues they frequently discussed in their honest talks, she eagerly awaited his response.

"So you say of my countrymen. But blood money, it is. I'll not be subject to extortion nor provide the means to cut down my brethren."

Haley could not see her father, Matthew Billingham, rise up and stand face-to-face with the soldier. Once a soldier himself, that he was unafraid was instilled in her.

But it was the soldier's next words that shattered the confidence in her country she held contrary to that of her father.

"Would you rather we satisfy the arrears in trade? I understand you have four young lasses. The workhouse needs strong hands backs to service the needs of the army."

Her father's worst fears, of which he'd already warned her, materialized. Again, she waited for the protection of his family she knew he would forever defend.

"That's not fair compensation. My daughters are not for sale."

She could take no more. But it was imperative she hear the soldier's next move.

"You will pay with either your life or theirs. No matter to me. The authority to determine which is at my discretion. You have until the next dawn to answer!" The sound Haley interpreted as fist slamming hard against the wooden desk was undeniable."

Haley stood momentarily paralyzed. Her father would not succumb.

Her mind swirled with images of the workhouse. She'd never seen, only heard horrific stories detailing brutal treatment. Immediately, she stumbled as she jumped back from the door. Turning, she ran down the hall, up the stairs, and rounded the corner to the left side of the mansion.

There, she stirred her sisters and demanded they dress for travel. Her father's instructions already instilled under what circumstances they must leave their home.

With conviction, Haley quickly retold the conversation. "Hurry, we must leave immediately else be sentenced to the prison workhouse. A fate worse than death."

"Surely you jest! Haley. This sounds incredulous like one of the stories in your mystery books. Father will protect us. Besides, I'm not leaving my bed. Are you insane?" her next younger sister, Catherine, protested all the while frowning.

"If we don't leave before nightfall, we will all wish we...I'll not say anything further."

Malverna, the youngest, exchanged glances with Catherine, then leaped from her bed, dressing hurriedly.

Haley escorted her sisters back to her room. She pulled back the curtain. The family's horse-drawn carriage stood in the road's curve. But so were the soldiers stationed in front of the house.

She scribbled a note, opened the desk drawer, then placed it underneath other papers.

"Won't father be worried why we've disappeared?" Catherine said behind her.

"Were it not for him, we would still be asleep, caught unaware, waiting for our fate to befall us."

With that, the young ladies weaved their way through the house as he'd instructed Haley, then slipped out the back entrance.

But not before Malverna grabbed a handful of breakfast and wrapped it in a napkin.

“I hate this weather! How much farther to the church? Why couldn't we haven taken the carriage?” Catherine wrapped her latest hand-woven shawl tighter around her shoulders.

“A couple more hours, at least.” Haley ignored Catherine's complaints as she'd done since introduced to her that day she whined consistently. Unable to stop then, there was no excuse once she knew the effect whining caused on her family.

A sudden jolt of fear assaulted her. Knees buckling, she sank to the ground near a huge tree. Coughing uncontrollably, she finally managed to catch a faint breath. “I can't continue.”

The thick blanket of mist permeated the dense woods leading away from their home. Haley traveled this route with her father numerous times over the years. No identifiable path. Perfect to remain undetected if one kept from the road. Filled with forest animals and insects, the route proved difficult for her sisters.

Opting to confine herself to the safety of the mansion, Catherine frequently wrestled with nightmares, losing herself in the thick of the forest, never to be discovered. Her fears surfaced. Even thought the weather cooled, red rouge mingled with sweat and caked powder cracked on the side of her cheek.

Haley frowned due to the frequent stops. "Stop faking it and get moving. Do you relish being assigned to the workhouse? Well, that is exactly what will happen if we lose the protection of our father, you spoiled brat. There's something to be gained by studying the world around you instead of the finer points of etiquette tea parties."

Catherine's shoulders heaved exposing her breasts inside the low-cut gown. The only suitable traveling outfit for ladies.

Haley stood staring at the gown. Her gaze traveled to Catherine's neckline.

Catherine's hand flew to her throat. The distance between her and Haley over the years grew wider as she thrust herself into gaining society's acceptance. She stammered, "here, take Mother's heirloom. It will keep us safe. The necklace pairs well with your bravery."

Haley instinctively shot out her hand, grabbed the necklace, and threw it to the ground.

Catherine stooped slowly and retrieved it. Wiping away the dirt, she also wiped away tears as she strode over to her sister and placed it around her neck. "I'm sorry if I'm a nuisance and don't live up to your standards."

Haley extended her hand, but immediately turned her face away, grimacing with love in her heart. She tucked the necklace inside her riding jacket. Exposure would surely mean death if just for the temptation of would-be robbers. She could fight them off. But more important tasks faced her.

At days end, they stood in front of the short, dark building. The swift knock on the door did nothing to rouse the priest from his study.

Haley pounded hard this time. Slowly, a tiny crack allowed her view to a short, but robust figure standing halfway the door.

"We need your assistance. My father instructed I seek you when the time arose." Haley pulled back her hood exposing her face.

She then pushed her hand through the door, grabbed the priest's wrist, and deposited the symbol into his hands that her father entrusted to her.

The door opened, then closed just as swiftly.

"I can no longer keep anyone here for the safety of my parishioners. Your father understood how dangerous it has become these past few years." Father McIntyre spoke swiftly while leading them to the tower.

"I understand. We only require cover until my father sends word." Haley thanked the priest, who provided food and safety.

That night from the tower, she settled in with her sisters, then waited anxiously.

Four days later, Father McIntyre visited with grave news. Their father was unable to come. And, the church could no longer provide for their safety.

Looking directly at the young ladies, he spoke wise but sorrowful words. "You have to leave. Soldiers are descending upon this place. It's best you separate. Only then will your chances of survival be greater."

"No, we stay together!" Haley's grateful, but defiant tone roused pity in the priest. He half-smiled, thinking of her father.

Before he could respond, the wooden door fell forward furiously onto the dusty floor. Bursting through, Haley recognized the husky voice.

"I've come to collect my bounty. The ugly ones can remain. There, you! step forward." The captain pointed at Haley. "You'll do. If I require the rest, I know where to locate them."

The soldier turned and grabbed Father McIntyre's collar, partially lifting him from he floor. "And if you set them on a path away from here, you will answer for it!"

Rushing over to Haley, he bound her tightly with restraints. Resisting was useless.

Haley glanced back. Her sisters crying profusely would not help. She had failed them and her father.

The next morning, she woke to the place only visualized in her imagination.

For the next month, filth and despair permeated throughout the stone walls. But it was the odor entrenched in her memory that would remain with her if she were lucky enough to escape from that place.

One morning, a burly, uniformed man stood rattling the bars. Opening slowly, the creaking sound of the iron door gave way to laughing voices behind him filled with hatred.

They joked of her father being sent away to debtor's prison.

"The time for playing with ragdolls is over, wench. You need to earn your keep," the guard shouted through the small, round hole.

Little did Haley understand the meaning of his words.

Six months later, she would learn the ways of adults in all their perversion. Her understanding at realizing how little females were valued rang sorrow in her heart.

The rumors held no candle to the real life experience of the workhouse. Harsh days spilled into horrid nights. Screams suggesting torture waffled from the iron bars that confined her tiny area.

A year passed.

The tiny scar at the upper right corner of her lip which joined the chattel marking ensured all who saw recognized her rank in the workhouse.

Shoved back into her cell, she caressed her throat, grimacing with each intake of hoarse breath. Fingers with jagged nails slowly settled on her chest. It heaved as the rattling deepened. This signaled the fourth round of pleurisy. Her parched lips begged to be quenched.

She glanced toward the sole wooden chair resting in the corner. Underneath, the note left by Father McIntyre several months ago, when allowed to visit, assured her that Catherine and Malverna were safe. Other members of the resistance helped scurry them away. Included in the package was a gift. She could not see how it would help her escape.

But thoughts of escaping dwindled.

Taking her father's advice, she devised her own plan in case she were ever captured. She knew her father's business and that of the group he joined. She discovered their noble cause helped many in poor circumstances in the country. But he gave no thought to his own safety.

The night shift's guard visited as scheduled. This time would be the last she would endure the harsh treatment of the gentiles.

She quickly placed her hands behind her back. With head bowed and fingers crossed, she shifted one foot to the other.

"You'll survive alright. They all talk about how touch you are. A bit of advice. Try not to think about the ten-year sentence." Turning the key, he opened the door wide to escort her to the assigned night's work.

Upon her return, she trotted back into the cell.

This time, the guard did not leave. Her stood staring, while rolling his tongue around his lips. Why should the gentiles have all the fun, he thought.

The guard approached. Haley backed away until the hard rail resting beneath the equally hard bedding halted her.

Foreboding thoughts squirmed at the back of her mind. She imagined herself strong. But her strength lay beyond these caged wall.

As Haley lay upon the hard rim, she tried not to think about the ten-year prison sentence as she tore again at the worn bedding unable to scream for help.

She tried not to think about the ten-year prison sentence as she washed each night in a dingy bowl containing a cup of water.

She tried not to think about the ten-year prison sentence as the velvety lining of the high collared gown pressed against her cheek while dancing with her father on her birthday.

And she tried not to think about the ten-year prison sentence as the odor from the sour clothing rose up in he nostrils. It drowned out the weight of the massive body now ripping into her.

Instead, bright colored patterns weaved throughout the butterflies as they rested on her sill. She held out her hand as they landed gently on her arm.

Soldiers marching in perfect pairs, feet high off the ground, then landing with a fierce determination, faded into the evening sun. No longer visible, the click-clack of boots on the pavement reminded her of the ten-year sentence.

She smiled a silent cry.

Reaching under the bed, she shifted the package until she retrieved her Mother's necklace and the cross given to her by the priest. Only then did she realize the reason for the gift.

With one hard shove, the guard's body tumbled toward the edge of the bed. Her heart beat into her throat as she crawled to the corner wall.

Her knees slowed. A kick landed hard in the guard's face. She rolled over, noticing his red sword just within reach.

She placed the red cross on her forehead and the necklace on her throat.

Angry, with fire in his eyes, he reached for his sword, but her hands wrapped around it.

Although hands on fire, she pulled hard, bringing the sword in her hands straight toward her chest. The guard followed as his weight fell heavy upon her, thrusting the sword deep within, penetrating her heart.

Shocked, he rose and stumbled backward, then looked around, eyes bulging with the realization of her death. Instinctively, he tore the necklace from her throat. His hand reached for the cross, but her forehead would not release it.

He raced from the cell, a plausible story justifying his actions already formulated.

As Haley drew her last breath, she glanced toward the opening in the cell's locked windows at the night's sky. She prayed. A radiant energy she shape o butterflies surrounded her as it lifted her body from the floor. Head reared back and lips parted, she started to speak, then paused.

All that mattered was her sisters were safe. Her father would be proud.

For this month's contest theme involving AI with a human touch, my theme reflects oppression, greed, intimidation, and sacrifice. In this short story, Haley and her well-to-do family live life carefree with the privileges bestowed upon them by the upper class society. But just as privileges are given, they can be stripped from you. Haley learns a valuable lesson involving trust, family, and sacrifice.

From one of the popular stable diffusion programs I use, StarryAI, I retrieved a simple image of a sword used to encompass all three elements above in my story. Below is the information I previously shared about Stable Diffusion that I feel will be of interest:

Stable Diffusion is a text-to-image latent diffusion model released in 2022 and trained on 512x512 images used to generate detailed images using text prompts.¹ The text prompt is required, as it provide the software with a description of your desired image.

Stable Diffusion was developed by the CompVis group at LMU Munich. The model was released by Stability AI, CompVis and Runway with support from EleutherAI and LAION. ¹

Stable Diffusion uses a “diffusion” process at runtime. Running their progression process creates the image from your text description.¹ I have discovered that the more precise my description, the better the results.

Through the AI Generated Art License at StarryAI, creations are made to be used freely by the creator. The result of the stable diffusion descriptions indeed creates an ethereal imagery. Designing a stable diffusion image begins with the type of software, method used, and text descriptions.

Below are my steps in the creation process:

In attempting the stable diffusion images, the color I chose to represent the young lady's sacrifice was red. The sword as the instrument of her death, and her jewelry in the form of a cross bequeathed by her mother.

To represent the heroine in my story and the "human touch" element in my contest entry theme, I located an unusual photo of a female who looks as if in distress. She is lying with her hands crossed near her shoulders. The moment I viewed the image, I knew it would be perfect to represent pain and sacrifice.

^Source

As you can see above, the female image almost completes my scene. I chose not to cover her face or any part of her visible upper body. Instead I chose to surround her with familiar elements as she succumbs to her fate.

With all images selected, blending them required a design program. The one I use regularly is Canva. I uploaded them to take advantage of the pro features, such as background removal, sizing, colorizing, and filters.

First, I utilized the female image as the background. The image covered only half the canvas, so I duplicated it to fill the space. This allowed room for other items without crowding.

Next, I added the sword and positioned it across the body.

I then added the necklace and the butterflies to complete the scene.

Below is the completed project.

Thanks for your visit. I hope you liked my mixed media art project entry for Alien Art Hive's Contest No. 2.