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 Ride That Changed Everything
Introduction There’s something oddly intimate about sharing a ride with strangers. You sit side by side, heading in the same direction, your lives briefly intersecting before they unravel again into their separate stories. Now imagine that happening on a city tour — not the boring, scripted kind, but one that feels like a social experiment on wheels. That’s the premise of The Ride That Changed Everything, a cinematic and emotional journey that turns an ordinary city tour into an unforgettable exploration of connection, chaos, and unexpected truths.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Porcelain Heart 🐾
1. The Heart of the House Maggie Calloway didn’t have much left from her mother. A few old recipes written in cursive that curled like ivy, a faded photograph from a summer picnic, and one small porcelain heart—delicate as moonlight—painted with forget-me-nots. It sat on the mantel, catching sunlight in a way that made it glow faintly pink at dusk. Her mother had given it to her on her eighteenth birthday, saying, “When you feel lost, hold this. It’ll find you again.”
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
Look What the Cat Dragged In
Introduction Some stories scratch at your imagination long after the last page. “Look What the Cat Dragged In” is one of those sneaky tales that strolls into your thoughts like a stray feline, dropping something unexpected at your feet. It’s a story about secrets, timing, and the messy beauty of unfinished business—the kind of narrative that makes you think about how a single phrase can unravel an entire web of truth.
By Karl Jackson3 months ago in Fiction
The Line Between Us
The ballroom had been stripped of its glitter. Where there were once chandeliers and champagne flutes, now hung banners stitched with crests of the divided provinces. The air was thick with the scent of old wine and newer suspicion. Everyone in that grand room knew why they’d come—to negotiate the peace after two years of quiet war—but no one could quite remember who had started it.
By Karl Jackson4 months ago in Fiction
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 Jackson4 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 Jackson4 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 Jackson4 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 Jackson4 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 Jackson4 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 Jackson4 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 Jackson4 months ago in Fiction
