Carolyn Patton
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Stories (37)
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Moonlit Fate. AI-Generated.
The weight of ancient parchment pressed against Soren’s trembling fingers. “The final verse,” he breathed, his voice a rough whisper, “it’s… it’s more than we imagined, Elara.” He traced the faded runes, his eyes wide with a dawning horror. “Shatter the realms… irreparable discord… or unprecedented reconciliation.”
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in Fiction
Moonlit Fate. AI-Generated.
The heavy oak doors of the council chamber boomed shut behind Draven, the sound reverberating through the cavernous hall, a stark counterpoint to the nervous thrumming in his own chest. He stood before them, the elders of his coven, their faces carved with the stoic severity of ages, each a monument to a history steeped in blood and suspicion. The air itself felt charged, thick with the unspoken animosity that had festered for generations, a palpable, suffocating blanket.
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in Fiction
Moonlit Fate. AI-Generated.
"Lilith, my dear," a voice, like dry leaves skittering across stone, rasped from the shadows. It was Elara, the ancient crone of the Coven, her eyes, chips of obsidian, reflecting the blood-red moon. "You feel it, don't you? The shift."
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in Fiction
The Apparition of Recognition. AI-Generated.
The gilded cage of her existence, though adorned with smiles and nods, had long been transmuted into a prison. Each year refined the artifice, polished the sepulchre, until no trace of her true self was permitted to emerge. The wound—that wound inflicted by that man—bled unseen, festering in silence, its venom consuming marrow, thought, and spirit alike.
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in Fiction
Jesse James
In every family, some names carry pride, sadness, controversy- men and women whose stories never stayed tucked away in the past. For me, one such name echoes with both pride and sorrow: Jesse Woodson James. To the rest of the world, he was an outlaw and a legend, immortalized in print and film, but through his wife, Zerelda “Zee” Mimms, he is family, remembered as a man, a husband, a father. His life was tangled in violence and rebellion, yet it was woven with loyalty, family, and resilience. To speak of Jesse is not to recite his legend, but to tell the story of a man who carried scars inside and out, and who walked a path too tangled for most men to survive.
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in History
Vlad The Impaler
Deep in the heart of Transylvania, where mist clings to mountains and forests whisper with secrets, there once lived a prince whose name became both a legend and a nightmare. To his enemies, he was Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, a tyrant who lined roads with the blood of the dead. But to his people, he was a protector, fierce and merciless, who defended their land against invaders. And in the centuries that followed, he became Dracula- the Dragon’s Son, immortalized in history and horror.
By Carolyn Patton4 months ago in History
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
The gaslight bled a sickly yellow onto the slick cobblestones, each droplet of rain a tiny, glistening shard reflecting the oppressive weight of Victorian London. The air, thick with the primal scent of damp earth and the acrid tang of coal smoke from unseen fires, clung to Sparta like a shroud as he advanced, a low rumble of anticipation vibrating in his chest, towards the beckoning amber glow of Sir Oliver Hawthorne’s sanctum.
By Carolyn Patton5 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
The air, thick with the cloying sweetness of honeysuckle and the damp, earthy perfume of upturned soil, hummed with an almost imperceptible vibrato. For Pandora, it was meant to be a balm, a familiar embrace of a sun-drenched afternoon. Her loyal corgi, Sparta, a creature of boundless curiosity and a surprisingly sophisticated flair for the dramatic, was her shadow. The golden shafts of sunlight, usually a gentle caress, now seemed to pierce the verdant canopy with an alarming intensity, illuminating motes of dust dancing in a preternatural stillness. Sparta, usually content to follow her scent-marked path, began to vibrate with a low, guttural whine, his stubby tail a question mark against the vibrant green. Then, it happened. A ripple, almost imperceptible, disturbed the thick fur of his neck, and the worn, impossibly antique watch, a secret heirloom passed down through generations of his lineage, pulsed with a malevolent, internal light.
By Carolyn Patton5 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
One day, in a brilliant flash of light, Sparta, the time-traveling corgi, found himself in a mystical land filled with ancient prophecies and enchantments. The air shimmered with magic, and strange, colorful plants whispered as he trotted past.
By Carolyn Patton5 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
It was an ordinary day in the garden, or so Pandora thought. As the sun cast golden rays across the blooming flowers, she strolled with her loyal corgi, Sparta, who sniffed eagerly at the air. But then, Sparta’s antique watch, always hidden beneath his fur, began to twitch and glow.
By Carolyn Patton5 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
In the cobblestoned streets of Victorian London, where gas lamps flickered and fog rolled in like a curtain, a most peculiar partnership was about to begin. Sparta, the time-traveling corgi, found himself trotting along Baker Street, intrigued by the chatter of busy streets and the mysteries that hung thick in the air.
By Carolyn Patton5 months ago in Chapters
