Jackson Eaton
Bio
Aside from writing stories, Jackson is a taller than average human male with a wife and four kids. Thanks for reading!
Stories (4)
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Nathaniel's Regret
Cold October sunlight filtered in through the cracks between the boards in the side of the barn. Nathaniel took a bite from an apple he’d picked from one of the trees outside as he watched his father, Deke, finishing the work for the day. The large nails in the beams overhead were handmade, which placed the construction of the barn sometime in the early eighteen hundreds according to Deke. Nathaniel liked being inside its old walls. The aged, musty smell of ancient wood underlay the fresher, cleaner smell of new sawdust. The gaps in the floorboards were enough to allow the dust to sift through to the ground beneath without the need for a dustpan, and since he usually did the sweeping for his father, Nathaniel appreciated that. Today Deke was carefully sanding the arms of a wooden rocking chair for the third time with the finest grain of sandpaper, which was barely rougher than a piece of cardboard so far as Nathaniel could tell. When Deke determined that the sanding was done, they would go on their evening walk.
By Jackson Eaton5 years ago in Fiction
The Shape of a Heart
Blake awoke gradually behind the comforting shelter of his eyelids. The nice thing about acceptance was that there was no longer the moment in which he realized that everyone he had known, all of his friends and family, coworkers and acquaintances, was now dead. He had accepted that fact, and so it no longer had the power to jump out at him from behind a corner unexpectedly and hit him in the forehead with a hammer blow of reality. No more did it come at him as the third or fourth thought of the day. He didn’t have to relive it every morning anymore, and that was something. The world had ended, past tense, and he’d accepted it.
By Jackson Eaton5 years ago in Fiction
Rosa’s Choice
Until two weeks ago, Rosa has always slept so deeply that her Abuela accuses her of stealing sleep from the dead. Accused, she corrects mentally. Past tense. Where exactly does correcting grammar fall on the five stages of grief? She doesn’t know. She only knows that the sun is about to kiss the horizon and begin another sweltering day in her corner of the desert, and that Abuela is not here to see it.
By Jackson Eaton5 years ago in Humans
