Jeff Johnson
Bio
I am that late bloomer that decided to follow his passion late in life. I live for stories that are out of bounds, unusual, and beyond normal limits. I thrive on comedies, horror stories, and stories that tug at your heart.
Stories (41/0)
4:30 Express
I woke up this morning and had my morning coffee. I knew I had far too much to do today. I'm supposed to catch the 4:30 am express to mothers, but somehow I am not motivated. Probably knowing I will have to endure my dreadful sister and her three brats. My sister and her husband have recently had an unfortunate parting. He's in jail for money laundering. She is evicted and staying with our mother until she can get on her feet.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Criminal
1974
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned, for years but, one night a candle burned in the window. I sit outside on a make-shift seat, looking at the house. It made me afraid. Dad and my uncles built a fire. Mother went inside and fumbled to find stuff by candlelight. The seat was two logs that had fallen. I sat with dad and cousins, watching the fire burn. I love watching the fire and listening to the stories. Their stories are enchanting and horrifying. I swish my feet back and forth and think there might be snakes and jerk my feet up. The leaves on the ground, the weeds, and the vines enhances the sense, "We shouldn't be here." I don't remember ever being comfortable around this house.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Fiction
Song of the Universe
"There weren't always dragons in the valley," I mumble to myself as I run for cover again for the third time today. I land face first in what I thought was mud turns out it was dragon poop. I stand up and try to clean my face, and overhead a dark shadow appears. It grows larger. I bend down to pick up my sword and feel a breeze that knocks me down. I stand, gain my balance, and feel the strong urge to find water to bathe.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Fiction
HEARTS' ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN
"Marge! Where are my socks?" He shouts. "In the box, dear, with your other clothes." "No, Oh, never mind, I found them. The last thing I need is trench foot." She shouts, "When does the boat leave?" He answers, "In about an hour." She says, "You know that gives us a little more time." He laughs and says, "No, I'm exhausted." He adds, "What will you do while I'm gone?" "Mary Ethal wants to take me to the country with her family for two weeks. She has promised it will be relaxing." He laughs and grabs her waist and kisses her cheek softly. She slips something into his pocket.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Fiction
The Whisper Of An Owl
In the dark of the night, feathers ruffle as they rub against a tree branch. A large Barn Owl moves around, watching the ground. Here deep in the woods, only the creatures live and make their home. All the animals can feel it when the weather is changing. Things in the air signal it's time to hunt to eat; hard times lie ahead.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Fiction
Well That Went Well
I am a Pug lover, and as a pug lover, I have been owned by Pugs since I was Twenty. So, after years of being owned by Pugs, you begin to brag about how wonderful they are and how much fun they can be, as well as how quirky they can be, as well as the energy bursts, the figure-eight poop, the pee trot you see where I'm going with this.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Petlife
Magic
What is Magic? We define it as the power to influence courses or events through supernatural forces, but what if Magic is deeper and more entrenched than that? Here is where my short story will take us into a world where Magic is far broader than we ever expected.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Fiction
Meeting Real Self
I sit here tonight typing, thinking about those days, those painful drying out days. My head and body were numb and defeated. You see, I knew traumatic events, but nothing so profoundly personal and so deeply painful had ever happened to me as getting sober. I felt like the universe was abusing me at times.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Psyche
Recovering With Alcoholism
I have heard people say "Real Self" more than I care to count. I like to think of "Consistent self." After all, that's really what we are talking about when we ask that question. When I was faced with getting sober or dying, I had to make some powerful choices. "Do the work, or die." that simple. An inner battle went on within me for a while because a part of me stopped caring. I was thoroughly numb, and I wanted it that way. I worked hard to numb my life. These "Feelings" were getting in my way, and I wanted nothing to do with them. I had some questions to answer, "Could I see where I lost control?", "Could I see where It was unmanageable?" and "Did I want to live life without a drink or drug?"
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Psyche
- Top Story - November 2021
Recovery Is PossibleTop Story - November 2021
What is our "Real Self?" I mean, aren't we all putting on a facade for everyone? When we meet people, don't we put our best foot forward? Don't we want to make a great impression when we try to get a job? Authentic Self seems elusive, or so I thought. Oh, that's just "Dime Store Psychology." You see, I had one of those jobs that I had to put on many faces.
By Jeff Johnson2 years ago in Psyche
Even Fairies Grieve
In a time long, long ago in a land where humankind was yet to explore the world. There was a forest nestled deep in the heart of a jungle. There was a gorge. Within that gorge, there was a sanctuary where all the animals of the woods lived together. The chasm was perfectly placed, which made it the perfect temperature year-round. The weather was also was excellent, year-round, with just enough water to quench all the thirsty trees and creatures. All the animals came together at times to get a drink.
By Jeff Johnson3 years ago in Fiction