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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Beside the Sea
A story of memory, loss, and the healing rhythm of the waves The Return The train screeched to a stop, and Eleanor Wren stepped down onto the weathered platform of Windmere Bay, suitcase in hand. The air was salt-heavy, the kind that stuck to your hair and clothes and whispered of old stories.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
Fire on Willow Street
The night the fire started, Daniel Pierce was awake long after the rest of Willow Street had gone to sleep. He wasn’t much of a sleeper these days—too many restless thoughts, too many ghosts pacing in his head. He sat by the window of his small apartment above Grady’s Hardware, watching the rain slide down the glass in crooked lines.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
Beside The Sea
Introduction: The Song of Return Every summer, the same wind drifted across the coast, salted and whispering like a secret too old to be kept. It carried the faint melody of gulls and a memory that refused to fade. For Maren Ellis, that melody was a ghost — a haunting tune she’d once sung with him, years ago, before the sea took what it wanted.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
The Runner-Up Heart
It started the same way it always did—another celebration she wasn’t the star of. The applause bounced around the auditorium walls, thick and heavy with the kind of excitement that never seemed to have her name on it. Amelia Cross smiled anyway, the same polite, tight-lipped smile she’d perfected over years of finishing second.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
The Copper Switch — When Lincoln Wasn’t on the Penny
For most of us, the penny is so ordinary it hardly draws a second glance. A flicker of copper glinting in a tip jar, jingling in a pocket, lying forgotten on a sidewalk. Yet the story behind this tiny coin isn’t ordinary at all. It’s a time capsule of national identity, artistic debate, and one bold decision that forever changed how Americans see their money—and their heroes.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Critique
The Man by the Bridge
The morning it all began was ordinary in that half-hearted, fog-draped way that only a Tuesday could be. The streets still wore last night’s rain, slick and glimmering under pale sunlight. Cars whispered by. Pigeons strutted like they owned the sidewalks. And somewhere between a yawning coffee shop and the river bridge, Nathan Reeves’ life quietly tilted toward something else entirely.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
The Longest Heatwave
It was the hottest day of the year, the kind of heat that made the asphalt shimmer and the horizon bend like a mirage. Cicadas screamed from the oak trees, and even the wind refused to move. The people of Willow Creek were used to southern summers, but this one felt angry — like the sun had a personal grudge against the town.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
The Smoke That Whispers Back
No one in Riven Hollow talks about the fire anymore. They rebuilt, repainted, pretended. The smell of smoke still lingers when the wind comes down from the ridge, but folks just say it’s pine sap or woodstoves. They don’t mention the other smell that rides with it — something sweet and wrong, like burned sugar and blood.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
The House That Remembers Me
The first time I saw the house, it wasn’t really there. I mean, it was there—white porch, cracked shutters, those big oaks that lean like tired old guards—but it felt like a memory pretending to be solid. Like déjà vu wearing fresh paint.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
Out of the Woods
The night the storm hit, Mara didn’t plan on driving into the woods. She’d only meant to leave the city—to breathe, to escape the heavy silence of her apartment that still smelled like her ex’s cologne. But somewhere between her grief and the winding backroads, she took a wrong turn, and the road took her somewhere it shouldn’t have.
By Karl Jackson2 months ago in Fiction
