Caleb Jacobo

Prompt: morning run — I woke up late. I had slept the night at my sister’s place, two states west to California, and I don’t sleep well away from home. Molly had a pullout couch that she turned into my bed. I got the second best sheets, blankets, and pillows. The mattress was thin. Less than four inches thick. All of it made me wake up late. It didn’t matter though. It couldn’t matter. Nine...

Here is a prompt I wrote while practicing scenes with multiple speakers. This represents a first draft that took approximately forty-five minutes to complete. I hope you enjoy! — “Is this all of it?” Megan said. She made like she was going to count all the barrels and sacks that moment, while the rest of the ladies sat by. They held priority sheets, legal forms, civil justice...

Mechanics wrench, carpenters erect, masons shape, boatmen navigate, shoemakers welt, wood-cutters split, mothers and young wives love; create America. The great nation on the hill, the lighthouse in the dark ocean of human rights, has gone dark. It denies us the sight of our barren mountainscape; leaves us helpless to guide others beyond. The land is black and will remain black. There is light...

  Elephants and Lambs, a short story by Caleb Jacobo, is now available for digital download! In the short story, “Elephants and Lambs,” a wealthy young Czech man, Kazimir, is desperately in love with Dominika, the daughter of a senator, in a Soviet occupied Karlovy Vary, Czechoslovakia during the 1940’s. Igorek, the occupying Russian general, has taken Dominika as his lover, but Dimitri, a...

Prompt: Peace — John’s dinner was interrupted by the clanging of bells and screams of women and children in the courtyard outside his dim second story apartment. “The Jebs are coming!” A woman shrieked. “Governor, save us, save us!” Yelled another. John cracked his fist against the frost sealed window, heaved it up, and stuck his head out. A trail of fire in...

I decided to write a quick prompt inspired by one of my favorite Anton Chekhov short stories. — Prompt: Homage to Anton — I sped to the armory looking for some lead relief. The clerk, a tall frenchman with long and lanky hands, pulled out several pistols and revolvers to display. “This one is a colt sir,” he said, brushing over the guns with his fingertips as he spoke. “And this one...