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 Truth According to Daniel
The first time I told the story, everyone believed me. Maybe it was because I told it with such conviction — the kind of certainty that only a man who’s either completely honest or dangerously deluded can pull off. I wasn’t sure which one I was at the time. Still not sure, if I’m being honest.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Compassless Voyage
The ocean stretched endlessly around the small sailboat, a vast sheet of dark glass rippled only by the wind’s whisper. Lena tightened her grip on the worn helm, the ropes creaking like old bones beneath her fingers. She had never planned to be here — not literally, not metaphorically. Yet here she was, somewhere between yesterday’s certainty and tomorrow’s unknown, sailing a borrowed boat across waters she didn’t know how to navigate.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Sound of Nothing
There should have been noise. The world outside should’ve been roaring—the clatter of dishes from Mrs. Darby’s diner, the screech of car tires along Main Street, the barking of that one beagle who hated mornings as much as Lena did. But that morning, there was nothing. No hum. No whisper. Just an empty, weighty silence that pressed against her chest like a held breath.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Girl in the Yellow Raincoat
I should probably start with the truth. But the problem is, I don’t actually know what that is anymore. Everyone says memory is like a photograph. Clear, crisp, and static. But I think it’s more like water—distorted by every ripple, shifting every time you touch it. And if you stir too much, well, it starts reflecting things that were never there.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Hollow Victory: When Success Stops Feeling Like Success
Every good story needs conflict, and sometimes that conflict doesn’t come from villains or disasters—it comes from within. Stories that center on a character ready to give up, or one who realizes their long-fought success feels strangely hollow, are often the ones that leave the deepest imprint. They whisper truths that most of us are too afraid to admit out loud: that winning isn’t always satisfying, and that sometimes the hardest battles happen after the applause fades.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern of Lethe
The first night of the Lantern Festival always made the village smell like burning pine and nostalgia. Every October, when the moon rose fat and silver over the rice fields, families gathered by the river to honor the dead. They wrote wishes or apologies on small slips of rice paper, tucked them into lanterns, and let the current carry them away. It was supposed to be beautiful. Healing, even.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Last Selfie
The wind was sharp that evening, slicing through the salt air that clung to the cliffs. Zoe stood at the edge, the world stretching infinitely before her, waves crashing far below like applause for the foolish and the brave. Her phone screen glowed faintly against the twilight, camera flipped toward her face.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
Between Sleep and Waking
There’s something hauntingly beautiful about stories that blur the line between dreams and reality. This one? It sits right on that razor’s edge—where consciousness drips into fantasy and fantasy bleeds right back into life. Imagine waking up, but not knowing if you truly have. That’s the essence of this story: a gripping, psychological labyrinth centered around a character whose mind can’t quite tell what’s real anymore.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Quiet Between Seconds
There are moments in life when everything slows down. A heartbeat stretches, a thought lingers, and the world seems to hold its breath. For most people, it’s just a feeling. For me, it’s literal. I can stop time—not slow it, not distort it, but freeze it completely.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
Night Among the Relics: The Haunting Beauty of Being Trapped in a Museum
There’s something quietly enchanting about museums—their marble halls, the soft hum of air conditioning, the ghosts of civilizations staring at you from behind glass. But imagine being locked inside one overnight. Not as a stunt or a dare, but by accident. That’s the premise of Night Among the Relics, a story that captures both the eeriness and magic of being surrounded by history when the lights go out.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Wasn’t Me
Ethan Vale was the sort of man who lived quietly in the spaces between moments. He wasn’t dull, just unremarkable—an accountant who preferred spreadsheets to people, black coffee to conversation, and the hum of fluorescent lights to the chaos of the outside world.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
