Scenario:Je veux une histoire inspirée de l’imaginaire pour ma chaîne YouTube. Je souhaite une histoire pleine de suspense, sans aucune longueur, d’environ 15 minutes. Je la veux captivante, au point que l’auditeur reste accroché jusqu’à la fin, tant elle est fascinante. Je veux une histoire qui attire l’attention dès la première phrase, qui parle de personnes vivant dans notre monde actuel, pour qu’elle paraisse plus réaliste, avec des lieux et des régions mentionnés de mon pays, le Maroc.
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Je veux une histoire inspirée de l’imaginaire pour ma chaîne YouTube. Je souhaite une histoire pleine de suspense, sans aucune longueur, d’environ 15 minutes. Je la veux captivante, au point que l’auditeur reste accroché jusqu’à la fin, tant elle est fascinante. Je veux une histoire qui attire l’attention dès la première phrase, qui parle de personnes vivant dans notre monde actuel, pour qu’elle paraisse plus réaliste, avec des lieux et des régions mentionnés de mon pays, le Maroc.
Imane
She is a young woman living in Casablanca, Morocco. She is curious, brave, and determined. Imane grew up listening to stories from her grandmother about a world where people died from the flu. Confused by these tales, she sets out to uncover the truth. Her journey takes her to a mysterious underground bunker, where she encounters a group of strangers, and over time, forms a close bond with them as they face various challenges together.
Abdullah
He is a man living in an underground bunker in Morocco. He is protective, strategic, and reserved. Abdullah initially comes across as aloof and mysterious to Imane, but over time his demeanor softens as they grow closer. He shares his name and few other personal details, hinting at a troubled past. His actions reveal his willingness to protect and support the group, especially during emergencies, showcasing his hidden vulnerability and loyalty.
Grandmother
She is Imane's grandmother who lives in the old neighborhood of Al Wahda, Morocco. She is wise, enigmatic, and persuasive. Grandmother's nightly stories of a pandemic that devastated the world leave Imane both intrigued and confused. Her use of specific place names like Casablanca and Marrakech adds authenticity to her narrative. Her relationship with Imane is complex, filled with both love and mystery, driving Imane's quest for truth.
"Imane, come here and listen to the story of the grandmother."
My grandmother called me in her sweet voice that always made me feel happy and relaxed.
I went to her happily and sat on the mat next to her.
I loved listening to stories, especially those of my grandmother, who had a special talent for telling stories.
She always told us stories about the world before us, about how people died from the flu, and I never understood what she meant and why she always repeated that the people died from the flu.
So I decided today to ask her about that.
"Grandma, what do you mean by saying that people died from the flu?"
I asked.
She looked at me with surprise and fear, and I did not know what that meant.
"Do you know what the flu is?"
She asked.
"Yes, it's a disease that infects people and makes them sick."
I answered.
She nodded her head in agreement and said, "Yes, but what happened before us is not like what happens now. Before, when people got the flu, they died because there were no medicines or treatments for it."
I listened to her words and felt confused because I did not understand how people could die from something as simple as the flu.
"Grandma, are you talking about a specific story or event?"
I asked.
She leaned closer to me and her expression changed; she was no longer the warm and loving grandmother I knew, but a woman with a serious and intense look.
She reached under her djellaba and pulled out an old leather-bound book.
The cover was yellowed and cracked, and when she opened it, the pages were yellowed and smelled of old paper.
I could see that the pages contained photographs and handwritten notes in Arabic.
My grandmother's hands trembled as she turned the pages, and I could see that some of the photographs were faded or torn.
She stopped at one of the pages and pointed to a photograph showing a group of people wearing masks standing outside what appeared to be a hospital in Casablanca.
Her finger traced the face of a young woman in the photograph who bore a striking resemblance to me.
The room fell silent except for the distant call to prayer echoing through the neighborhood.
I leaned closer to examine the photograph, tracing the masked woman's features with my finger.
The resemblance was uncanny - her eyes, her posture, even the way she held herself mirrored my own image.
My grandmother's hands continued to tremble as she turned the brittle pages, revealing more photographs of crowded hospitals and empty streets.
The muezzin's voice echoed through the neighborhood, mixing with the sound of evening traffic outside.
I was about to ask her about another photo when the walls around us vibrated.
A thunderous impact shook the building, rattling the windows and sending the leather book tumbling from my grandmother's lap.
"Imane, quickly, help me pick it up," my grandmother urged, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"Grandma, what was that? Are we in danger?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"No, child," she replied, her eyes fixed on the fallen book, "but it's time you learn about the past and how it might be repeating itself."
