Karl Jackson
Bio
My name is Karl Jackson and I am a marketing professional. In my free time, I enjoy spending time doing something creative and fulfilling. I particularly enjoy painting and find it to be a great way to de-stress and express myself.
Stories (334)
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🧳 The Thing That Wasn’t in the Bag
Evan knew the exact moment it happened, even though it took him another ten minutes to admit it. The bus had already pulled away from the curb, tires sighing as if relieved to be done waiting. He stood in the aisle, one hand gripping the overhead rail, the other wrapped around his backpack strap. The city slid past the window in its usual indifference. Traffic lights blinked. A man jogged across the street with coffee sloshing dangerously close to regret ☕.
By Karl Jackson6 days ago in Fiction
📜 The Word That Slipped Between Tongues
The word first went missing on a Tuesday. Not the dramatic kind of missing. No sirens. No frantic search parties. It simply failed to arrive where it was supposed to land, like a suitcase circling an airport carousel in a different country while its owner waits, coffee cooling, patience thinning.
By Karl Jackson12 days ago in Fiction
🕰️💔 The Repair That Wouldn’t Hold
Evan always believed mistakes were temporary things, like coffee stains or wrong turns. You blot them. You backtrack. You fix them. He had lived his life with that quiet confidence, the belief that damage was reversible if you caught it early enough.
By Karl Jackson14 days ago in Fiction
💌 The Thank-You That Wouldn’t Sit Still
Mara had written the thank-you note twelve times and torn it up every single time. The first version sounded stiff, like something pulled from the back of a greeting card. The second tried humor and landed flat. The third rambled. The fourth felt selfish. By the seventh attempt, the paper itself seemed tired of her.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
📺 The Glow That Followed Me Home
The television looked like a miracle under store lights. It stood there, floating on a wall of black glass, colors spilling out like fireworks. Oceans glimmered. Faces looked carved from light. Every demo loop felt cinematic, like the future had arrived early and decided to hang out near the soundbars.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
🌞 The Heat That Didn’t Ask Permission
The summer it happened wasn’t supposed to matter. It was meant to be a placeholder season, the kind you live through without collecting memories. A stretch of hot days between decisions. A pause before the next version of life began.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
💐 The Space Between Applause
Weddings have a strange gravity. They pull people together who would never otherwise cross paths. Old friends, distant relatives, coworkers dragged along out of obligation. Everyone dressed slightly better than usual, everyone pretending not to check their phones during the vows.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
✈️ The Terminal That Wouldn’t Let Go
The airport clock said 11:47 p.m., but time had stopped behaving like time hours ago. Every screen glowed the same word in different fonts and languages. CANCELED. It stacked down the departure boards like a quiet chant. New York. Chicago. Denver. Paris. Tokyo. Gone. All of them gone, grounded by a storm that had rolled in from nowhere and refused to move on.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
🚆 Leaving the Map Behind
I packed my bag three times before I closed the zipper. Not because I needed more things, but because I needed more courage. Every item felt like a decision. What version of myself was I bringing with me. What version I was finally leaving behind.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
✍️ Ink on a Moving Target
A character learns what it feels like to be revised while still breathing I notice it before it happens. There’s a tightening in the air, a faint tug behind my eyes, the sense that the floor beneath the sentence has gone soft. That’s when my author pauses. That’s when I know I’m about to change again.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
🌩️ Writing Stories That Breathe Inside a Storm
Introduction ✨ Storms are not just weather. In storytelling, they are pressure systems. They compress emotion, distort time, strip characters down to essentials, and force decisions that calm days allow people to avoid. A storm changes how characters move, think, speak, and remember. It disrupts routine and reveals truth.
By Karl Jacksonabout a month ago in Fiction
