Carolyn Patton
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Stories (34)
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The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
The raw, unforgiving wind of the Andes clawed at Sparta and Jackson, two souls irrevocably bound to the currents of time, teetering on the brink of oblivion. Before them yawned an Incan scar upon the earth, a skeletal remains of a civilization clawed from the mountain's granite heart. Crumbling stone, slick with the mountain's ancient tears, whispered a thousand forgotten sagas into the howling wind. Pandora, their brilliant, often distant anchor, was elsewhere, lost in her own labyrinth of chronal equations. But her fierce, loyal shadows, her canine bulwarks, were here, their primal instincts thrumming with anticipation.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
The crimson dust of Mars clawed at the edges of Sparta and Jackson's vision, a stark testament to their maiden plunge into the unknown. The colony, a defiant scar upon the desolate expanse, throbbed with a frantic energy. Gleaming chrome domes, impossibly fragile against the alien sky, shimmered under the razor-thin atmosphere, a siren song of progress masking a chilling undercurrent of fear. It was a palpable dread, thick as the metallic tang of recycled air, clinging to the very marrow of the place.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
The air crackled, not just with the thunder of approaching revolution, but with the raw, untamed energy of temporal displacement. Sparta and Jackson, ripped from the very fabric of their own existence, materialized into the heart of a storm – Philadelphia, ablaze with the fever of nascent rebellion. The city didn't just hum; it throbbed, a living organism pulsing with the clang of reforged metal and the guttural roar of impassioned voices. The acrid bite of coal smoke mingled with the sweet, cloying scent of desperation and the sharp tang of fear, a potent cocktail that saturated every breath.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
In a vortex of raw, unyielding magic, Sparta was ripped from reality, hurtling into a temporal anomaly that violently reshaped the future into a grotesque echo of a forgotten past. Cobblestone, slick with an unknown dampness, clawed at his paws as gaslight, sickly and flickering, cast long, skeletal shadows. The air hung thick with a suffocating blend of nostalgia and an unsettling, palpable dread, each scent a memory and a phantom limb.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in Chapters
The Sparta Chronicles. AI-Generated.
In the abyss of a future so fractured it defied comprehension, Sparta, the temporal anomaly disguised as a corgi, materialised into a reality that clawed at his very essence. He’d braced himself for the sterile gleam of chrome citadels and the thrum of anti-gravity vessels. Instead, his paws, accustomed to temporal displacement rather than solid ground, found purchase on the rough, worn cobblestones of a forgotten age. Gaslight, a flickering mockery of true illumination, bled amber hues onto the street, painting shadows that writhed like captured spirits. The air, thick and cloying, bore the pungent aroma of horse dung and the sickly sweet perfume of baking bread, a deceptive normalcy that masked a deeper dissonance. Yet, amidst this anachronistic tableau, the ghosts of what-was-to-be whispered their secrets – a gas lamp, its flame a steady, unnatural pulse, hummed with an unseen power, a silent testament to a technology woven into the very fabric of this bewildering era.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in Chapters
The Gods Are Still Among Us. AI-Generated.
When most people hear names like Zeus, Athena, or Artemis, their minds instantly leap to mythology textbooks or marble statues in museums. We tend to think of the Greek gods as relics of a long-gone civilization—powerful in story, but irrelevant in modern life. And yet, quietly and passionately, thousands of people around the world still honor them today. This living faith is called Hellenism, and though it draws on practices more than two thousand years old, it has found a home in the 21st century. What makes it so intriguing is how old rituals and modern life blend, creating something both familiar and entirely new.
By Carolyn Patton2 months ago in History
From Norma Jeane To Marilyn
There are some names that never fade, no matter how many years pass. Marilyn Monroe is one of them. She wasn’t just a movie star or a beautiful face on a poster—she was a woman searching for love, acceptance, and peace in a world that often saw her only for her smile. Behind the glamour, the diamonds, and the dazzling lights was someone fragile and real, someone who longed to be understood.
By Carolyn Patton3 months ago in History
The Winchester Mystery House. AI-Generated.
In the heart of San Jose, California, stands a sprawling mansion that seems less like a home and more like a dream- or perhaps a nightmare- in the guise of a home, with staircases that lead to ceilings, doors that open into walls, and windows that overlook other rooms, the Winchester Mystery House is a monument to obsession, grief and mystery. It is a place that seems to defy reason; a labyrinth of wood and glass built not from blueprints, but from the mind of a woman filled with unending grief, superstition, and whispers of the dead. Its creator, Sarah Winchester, transformed her sorrow into ceaseless construction, crafting one of the strangest and most enduring legends in California history.
By Carolyn Patton3 months ago in History
Moonlit Fate. AI-Generated.
The air crackled, not just with the lingering scent of scorched earth and desperate magic, but with a silent, potent truth that thrummed beneath Lilith's skin. Inside her, a universe was unfolding, a universe conceived in the forbidden embrace of Silver Moon's enchantress and the Shadowfell's formidable warlord. This wasn't just a secret; it was a rebellion.
By Carolyn Patton3 months ago in Fiction
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 Patton3 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 Patton3 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 Patton3 months ago in Fiction
