Here is a vibe-written short story, inspired by Andrej Karpathy’s idea of “vibe-coding” applied to writing. A few weeks ago, a fly had a short but striking encounter with me on a winter morning. I had forgotten all about it, until I recently rediscovered the draft.
Working together with GPT-4.5 for the initial draft and o1 for the iterations, I wanted to capture that moment, not just factually, but emotionally. The concept of vibe-writing is simple: Instead of writing for yourself, you guide the AI with impressions, feelings, or ideas. You iterate together, nudging the story into the shape that feels right. In this case, I wanted to tell the story as if it was an alien abduction. Would anybody believe what happened?
And this is how the story unfolded:
Beneath the Blue Dome
I spent the dark hours huddled against a rough barrier, half-frozen, waiting for the faint warmth that always comes with dawn. My limbs were so cold they could barely move, and each breath felt like it might be my last. When light finally seeped through the small gaps, a gentle heat came with it, and I stretched slowly, feeling my wings loosen just enough to flutter.
Drawn by that promise of comfort, I crept toward the warmth. Past the barrier lay a world unlike any I had known: smooth expanses that shone under a steady, unwavering glow. The air was thick and still, carrying scents I couldn’t place. My antennae tingled with both curiosity and caution. Yet the warmth was too tempting to resist, so I ventured on, letting my wings rest for the first time in what felt like ages.
I continued exploring, landing on surfaces that seemed to reflect my image back at me in strange, distorted ways. The temperature was so pleasant, I almost forgot how alien everything appeared. I wanted to understand this place better—its endless shapes and angles, the quiet hum that pulsed through the air. Had I finally found shelter from the cold, or stumbled upon something far more dangerous?
Then, abruptly, a shimmering blue dome descended from above. Before I could react, it trapped me inside. My heart raced as the surface beneath me shifted—or perhaps it was the dome itself that moved. Beyond the hazy blue, I could only make out large, shifting silhouettes. My wings trembled with panic. I wondered if I should have ignored that inviting breeze and stayed away. The air felt stale under the dome’s curve, and time stretched uncomfortably, each moment weighed down by confusion and fear.
Just as suddenly, the dome lifted. A burst of cold air rushed in, stinging my senses. In a blink, I realized I was no longer in that warm realm. Where had the walls gone? My wings buzzed frantically, carrying me back into the bite of the chill. Disoriented, I hovered in mid-air, trying to piece together what had happened. Had I been dreaming? The memory of that confining blue glow felt all too real.
Unsure who—or what—had set me free, I left without looking back. No one would likely believe a story of a warm place with endless walls and an all-encompassing blue dome. But I knew what I felt. The warmth still lingered on my wings, even as the cold reclaimed me. I didn’t understand that strange world, and perhaps it was best left behind. Yet I carried its memory as I flew on, alive and uncertain, with more questions than answers.