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 (330)
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The Great Thing About the Life You Lived
Introduction Life is a collection of moments — some ordinary, some breathtaking, some heartbreaking — all stitched together to form a story that is uniquely yours. In a world where everything seems to be in constant flux, there’s one unshakable truth: the life you’ve lived is yours forever, and no one can change a single thing about it.
By Karl Jackson5 months ago in Humans
The Quiet Cacophony
Elara was a quiet island in a sea of clamor. Not a literal island, of course, but a woman who had built her own little archipelago of peace in the bustling heart of a city that never seemed to sleep. Her apartment, a cozy nest on the tenth floor, was her main landmass. The library down the street was a familiar islet, and the small, well-tended park bench by the river was a tiny atoll where she would often sit, watching the water mirror the fleeting clouds. Her company was herself, a perfectly calibrated universe where the stars aligned exactly as she wished. She didn't need to consult a celestial map or a travel guide. Her inner compass was all she needed, and it pointed to a singular truth: the most rewarding journey was the one taken within.
By Karl Jackson5 months ago in Psyche
The Map in Her Veins
In the year 2184, the borders between cities weren’t just lines on maps—they were walls of shimmering plasma that hissed if you got too close. Beyond them, the land was called The Outrange, a forbidden expanse said to be poisoned by storms, wild machines, and unspeakable shapes. No one left the sanctioned zones anymore. Curiosity was treated like a sickness.
By Karl Jackson5 months ago in Fiction
The Corner Booth
There’s a little diner on the edge of nowhere. You know the kind—checkered floor tiles, jukebox that plays nothing but Springsteen and Otis Redding, coffee that tastes like burnt hope, and a waitress who’s seen too much but still calls you “honey.” Locals call it Janie’s Place, but on paper it’s Route 9 Diner. It’s the kind of spot you wander into when you’re not sure if you're running away or limping toward something.
By Karl Jackson5 months ago in Fiction
The Unveiling
The air around Elara was a thick, humid blanket, clinging to her skin with the same stubbornness as the extra pounds she carried. It wasn't a sudden thing, this weight. It was a slow, creeping tide that had risen with each stressful deadline, each late-night comfort meal, each moment of a life lived for everyone else but herself. The mirror reflected a stranger, a muted version of the vibrant woman she knew she was, trapped beneath a soft, protective layer she had unwittingly built around her heart and soul.
By Karl Jackson5 months ago in Fiction
