Exhausted and Awake

I’d rather be physically exhausted.
To be able to close my eyes and dream,
Peacefully.
But my brain rampages a mile a minute,
With useless information and odd timing anxiety filled with phobia.
I’m mentally fatigued by the feeling of dread, of burden, of who am I.
Am I doing enough
Too much
Too little?
What if I did more today?
And less tomorrow.
Would I even put the balance?
Or would it even matter…
My brain talks all day
With not a word to say
To escape my lips
For you to understand what she’s saying.
It’s all foreign to me
And I can’t translate.
I’d rather be dancing
But she’s screaming about what hasn’t happened.
Why?
We were okay.
Now we’re not.
And I’m sitting for the first time today
But it feels like too long.
I should be moving.
And she won’t budge
A prison
Locked up
Breathe
Even though I forget how to.
I’d rather me sleepy
Because if I was
I could actually wake up.

When I Die

When I die, let my mother dress me one last time.
As her baby, who took the world by storm.
Let my father tell the tales of me and remember to catch him when he weeps.
Remind my sister that I’m still proud of her,
And tell my brother that he grew up the man I hoped he would be.
Let my husband admire my lips,
A kiss of forever as time slips.
Let my child remember the laughs we shared, the tears we shed, the love we have.
When I die, let my soul dance with you.
In the darkness of your grief.
I’ll be your shining light once more.
Follow you from a distance as a guardian, only feel my presence like a wave hitting the shore.
Soft but inviting.
When I die, bury me beneath the tree we sat and talked under for hours.
Where we watched the birds sing.
I hope to see you there from time to time. I’ll asks the birds to play our favorite line.
When I die, know I’ll be catching your tears and wrapping you in the love that will never fade.
A soul that will never go away.
Waiting for you.

Dancing With the Water Drops

Such a feeling to stand under a sullen cloud. Arms out to embrace the sonnet of the thunder. Spinning like the unprofessional ballerina you are. Dancing between the drops. Feeling full as they splash at your feet. A moment of release as the downpour encumbers you. Skin to skin with nature. Cleansing the problems as the wind blows them away. Awaiting the sun to shine on a new you. To warm your very soul again.

The Night

While the sun brings warmth and rain, songs from the birds, and color no where near plain
Have you heard the moon and see all she reigns?
The magic she brings in the dead of night, the eyes that glow with such powerful light.
The stars that follow her every move.

The peace that seems so easily to obtain.
The mountains that blend into the sky.
The grass that’s now an ocean passing by.
The wind chill that raises your hair.
But not being afraid of what’s out there.
For the moon and her magic, her glory, her song.

Is what brings is through the night as we trudge along
In the uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring.
We’d rather stare in her beauty than close our eyes to sleep.

The Night
Tiffany Schoonover

I’m Baaack

So, I have been on absence as Life is well… life. And yesterday, I decided to rewrite “The Bridge” for the 8th time. *cue stressful laughter*

No, but seriously, I am all too excited about this go around. So excited in fact I wanted to share the first chapter. If you read the original, no you didn’t. LOL

Let me know what you think of it. I’m honestly proud of how far this book has come. My goal is to be done by the end of this year.

*disclaimer, I have NOT edited yet, sorry, haha!*

The Bridge

Chapter One: An Accidental Meeting

A gentle hand wipes away the condensation from the shower that accumulated on the bathroom mirror. The face staring back grimaces. The purple hue under her eyes shows how much sleep she skips because of the returning nightmare that fills her mind at night. The light in the bathroom reveals the gray hairs attempting to take over the auburn that used to be well maintained. The pine-tree-green eyes trace the rest of her features and stops at the scar on her forehead. Though the line is thin, the story is huge, and dark behind it. The woman takes a sharp inhale and turns off the lights.
Her hands reach for her brush and the black curly wig on her dresser. She carefully puts it on her head and smiles. Next comes the contact lenses and make up.
In moments, Lucinda Morgan, the woman with a dark and twisted path, becomes Abigail Foster, the widowed wildlife photographer.
Her lips twist into something sinister.
“Hello, I’m Abigail.”
Her smile fades away as her mind twists back to the past. A shadow of a man dances in her eyes, taunting her once again. The heat in her body rises. She clenches her fist and growls, Leave me alone!”
The figure makes no attempt to respect her wishes. It isn’t a surprise. He didn’t listen when he was alive, why would he start now? Even after what she did to him… He only begged for his life and hers.
What are you doing Lu?
“Don’t call me that! You will never call me that again!”
The figure chuckles, or what?
Lucinda lunges from the chair and into the mirror, shattering it instantly. Blood trickles down her cheek, she growls as she swipes it away. The figure, now distorted through the glass pieces, laughs at her.
“You think it’s funny? All of this?” She gestures around her.
“It was you. All because of you that I am alone. Because of you I am no longer me. Because of you I hide.”
Me? I wasn’t the one holding the knife to my throat.
Lucinda stands abruptly and sprints to the side of her bed. She throws a rug off to the side and lifts one of the floor boards. “You mean thus knife?” She waves it around, “I still have it. They never found it. They didn’t know to look for it.” She smiles, “How could they? You died in an accidental fire, remember?” Her eyes glow as she stares into the figure, waiting for his reaction.
Silence.
“What? Nothing else to say?” She scoffs.
She walks to the pieces of glass on the floor and towers over them. The figure slowly fades away before her eyes.
And when she blinks, her eyes meet hers. The mirror, unbroken, reveals a tear stained face sulking back at her. She places her hand on the mirror, confirming it is real, she rushes to her night stand. Frantically digging for a bottle with her name on it. When she finds it, she gasps. It’s been empty for years. Holding the lump in her throat, she tries her best to brush this episode off. Five years. You have been okay for five years. Keep it together.
Lucinda walks back to the mirror and leans in. Quietly she says, “I am Abigail. I am Abigail Foster. I am okay. I am safe. I am free.

The wind nips at Abigail’s nose. She wondered outside for fresh air and to let her mind catch itself. She looks around her little place of solitude and giggles at the memories she had at this place as a child. The camera in her hands captures the perfectly fallen snow on the pine trees. She sits and admires the beauty of silence. It’s been years since she rebuilt the home that burned down. When she closes her eyes a little too long, she can feel the flames at her finger tips and the smell of smoke fills her nostrils, the heat causes her skin to burn red, and the sounds of birds squaking in a panic, jolts her from the memory. The memory sends chills through her spine. She shakes the feeling away, stands and heads down a path to the lake’s dock.
“A ride is perfect to clear my mind.” She sighs as she gets in her boat and drives from the dock. The solitude and stillness above the water is serene. She looks to the woods where her home is, the woods surrounds it perfectly. No one would know where the two story log house sits unless they see it for themselves. A perfect get away for the perfect criminal…
She looks to the bridge that divides the lake in half. Its quite a distance away from her, but the sky is clear enough for her to see the outline. She spends hours out here imagining the lives of the people that frequently cross. But today, its quiet. A freeze warning was due later today. Abigail didn’t mind the cold. It kept people inside and away. Spring and Summer are the months that put her on edge, but this, the snow and ice, are her freedom. Freedom to breathe and be out. Freedom to think about happiness, or the thought of it. Freedom of the nightmares and fear she will be found…She breathes in the solitude one last time before heading back as the wind is picking up and snow falls again.
As she’s riding back, she let’s herself fantasize about the life she truly wants. A person to love her, a child to adore her, a home with love and trust. I deserve it. I want it. She sighs, but how do I get it? Way out here? All alone… The jolt of the boat hitting the wooden dock snaps her back to reality. She tries to laugh off her fantasy, but her other emotions win the battle. She yells out her frustration and leaps out her boat.
Her feet touch the dock and in that moment, a strange feeling overwhelms her. She leans against one of the trees to catch her breath. Go back. Her head spins. Her eyes dart around, making sure she is alone. The trees are the only one to greet her. Go back! Her heart skips a beat. Without another pause she jumps back in her boat nearly falling into the icy water, she catches herself and zooms off back onto the lake. She points her boat to the bridge. It’s calling her. Hurry, help! Abigail’s hairs stand up. She’s afraid and feels she has no control over her body. She grips the steering wheel and leans in to try and see through the snow.
The small outline of the bridge slowly grows in front of her eyes. The snow makes it slightly difficult to see, but she knows where she is. The wind picks up quicker and she shivers. Her hands feel like stone. The blood in her veins slow. What am I doing? She grabs a blanket from the chest on her boat and wraps herself up and she waits for whatever needed her. Just wait.
A few moments pass and the wind stops. The silence around her is deafening. The blanket she has wrapped around has made her blood circulate, but her body is still numb. Her shivering has worsened. This is stupid. She sighs and reaches for the wheel and then, a crashing sound echoes above her.
A cloud of smoke fills the sky above her. A voice faintly yells for help. Abigail is frozen. She doesn’t know what to do. Her phone isn’t with her. She stays frozen, sitting, watching, waiting. More commotion and more voices wail out into the wind. Abigail shakes from head to toe, maybe from the cold, or maybe from the excitement of the accident. She swallows, waiting, wishing she could help.
Then, it happens.
She watches with her eyes wide open as a truck falls from the bridge. It is almost like a slow motion film before her eyes. The eeriness of the horn vibrates through her body. She didn’t blink until the truck lands into the water and submerges. Her mind begins to race. I hope no one was in there- a hand? Is that a hand!? She squints for a better look. It is! Quickly she steers her boat towards it. The wind growls as she races to the person and the snow falls with a vengeance.
Once she reaches the spot she saw the hand, it’s gone. She panics and looks all around the sides of her boat. Oh, no! No! Where did it go? Oh, I hope it was attached to something. Abigail squeals. A gasp is heard behind her. She turns to see a man gasping for air and swatting frantically at the water. She lunges for him and pulls him into her boat. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here. What’s your name?” The man moans something. “It’s okay.” She wraps the blanket around him and speeds towards the bank to her home. She looks back at the man, he’s unconscious. She checks for a pulse, it’s faint, but there. You’re really lucky. She starts to smile, but then, a thought intruded her mind. No, I will not. She shakes her head, trying to focus through the snow.
Once back on her property, Abigail rushed back to her home and grabbed her phone intending to dial 9-1-1. But, the thought became increasingly louder. Take him. You deserve it. Do it. This is what you have waited for. Abigail looks out the window into the cold, he needs help.
Yes, and you know who you can call.
But…
Just wait. Do it.
Abigail closes her eyes for a moment and sees the life she wants. It’s within reach. She opens her eyes again, is this real? She runs to her boat, the man is still there. She smiles and dials a number she hasn’t in years…

Knock, knock. Travis Denton rushes to his front door and swings it open. “Where is he?” Abigail points to her car. Travis sprints to it and opens the back door. A man lay spread out on the seats. “How did…never mind. Help me get him inside.”
Travis immediately gets him into a bed and hooks him up on an I.V.** and covers him in heating blankets. “How long was he in the water?”
“Not long at all. I immediately got him out and then called you.”
Travis checks his vitals. His temperature was just below normal, not life threatening and his Oxygen levels were normal.
He looks at the man and sees bruises and cuts and immediately begins to clean them.
“What happened?”
“He fell in.”
“How? He’s covered in injuries and judging by the wound on the back of his head, he most likely has a concussion if not a traumatic brain injury.”
Abigail pauses, trying to come up with some elaborate story.
“Mmm.” The man moans. Abigail’s eyes widen. Oh no. He’s waking up.
“Hello, can you hear me?” Travis asks. “I’m doctor Travis Denton. You’re at my personal practice in my home. Can you tell me your name?”
Abigail holds her breath.
The man groans again and shakes his head lightly to say no, and groans louder.
“Careful there, you’ve got quite the injury. I’m going to do all I can for you while we’re held up in this storm, and then I will have you transferred to the ER in the city, okay?”
The man groans in response.
Travis leads Abigial out of the room before he goes back to dress and assess all of the man’s wounds.
A couple of hours later he emerges and asks Abigail questions.
“Who is he?” he asks wiping his glasses.
“A friend.” She responds.
“Does he have a name?” he asks suspicious of her behavior.
Abigail is silent for a moment, then, “Jacob.”
Travis stares at her, “Like your ex husband?”
Abigail nods sheepishly.
“Alrighty, what were you two doing in the lake in this weather?”
“I, uh, I take photos to sell. The woods were beautiful and I, um, we, we thought a nice boat ride would get a better picture of the the um trees.” Abigail fumbles.
Travis sighs, “Abigail, I have known you for a few years. I know when you’re lying.”
Abigail laughs to herself. Yeah, you know the lies I’ve told as truths.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I don’t care if you two were out there doing something… out of the ordinary. I just need to know if something else happened so I know how to treat him and pass on that information to the hospital.”
Abigail laughs nervously, “No, I’ve told you exactly what happened.” She forces a smile.
Travis looks at her for a long time before saying, “Okay then. Let him rest and I will keep an eye on him. Let me know if I can do anything and get anything for you.”
Abigail thanks him and goes to wait in the living room, where she used to spend time with Travis in.
She wraps her arms around herself. What am I doing?

Abigail jolts awake to a terrifying sound. She has fallen asleep on the couch. She sits up and hears the sound again. She gets up and runs down the hall to the room where the man is. He’s tossing in bed, yelling out in pain.
“Travis! Travis, come quick!” Abigail yells.
Travis emerges from behind her with a needle.
“What are you doing? What is that?” she asks concerned.
“Morphine. It’s for the pain.”
Within moments, the man calms down and stops flailing. Once his arms hit the bed, something falls off. Travis reaches for it. Abigail sees what it is and snatches it. “Oh, thank you. That’s his wallet.” She says quickly.
Travis pays no mind and continues to re-adjust his patient and his I.V.s
Abigail turns away and opens the wallet.
Samuel Jenson. His name is Samuel.
Abigail tucks the wallet in her pocket and smiles.

The next morning, Abigail and Travis go to check on the man. The storm ended an hour ago and the ambulance is on it’s way to transport him.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Travis asks.
The man clears his throat, “Where am I?”
Travis tells him and asks his name again.
The man stares at him for a long, long time, “I…I don’t know.”
And in that moment, Abigail knew.
It was Samuel, but now? Now, it’s Jacob. And she will make sure it stays that way.

Just Add Spring

The perfect time of year is when the greens turn every color of the rainbow. Spring is here and the rain kisses the flowers and my skin. The sweet aroma and taste of lemon grass, nature’s own candy, the soft glow of the sun through the limbs of my favorite tree, and the MANY bees saying hello to me. Spring is here and I’ve never been so happy. The flowers bloom with such intensity and the grass is softer than carpet under my feet. Such a beautiful day and hopefully they end with rain to out me fast asleep.

Pet portrait

With A Heart Like This

It’s a curse, I think, sometimes to have a heart like mine. The one that hovers the edge of forgiveness and forgets. When I want to cut the bonds that have shriveled and greyed, yet I ache when I see their pain. My brain recognizes the manipulation their own gives out, but my heart is golden and glass and I keep running back. And sometimes the saying of family “is that and more” rubs me to my core. And I tried to mend what’s broken, but they’ve taken all the tokens. and the bridge that one was whole, leans to one side. And it come to a point where you have to decide what is good for you. To have the peace and be free of frightening dreams, and then the heart of mine, gives the chance, just one more time. Always wrong and hurts like hell, bit this heart of mine doesn’t give up that well. And when it cones to safety it leaps that way, but the knots on the rope tangle together. And it’s a mess. And when I go to untie one, the rope ties the rest.

A heart like mine is a curse, I do believe. Because if my heart was cold and black, I feel I could breathe.

Runaway Dreams

There’s a little stream by the willow,
That flows only in April,
When the rain puts me to sleep.
I like to think it leads to a place,
So I dream about it on my pillow.
I follow it down pass the roots on the tree
And a little yellow bee has me follow.
I lose it in the sunflower’s petals,
Blending in the beauty.
The sun pokes out for a quick hello,
A wave of clouds tell him goodbye.
And before long the moon reins high.
The pitch black sky makes her glow,
And her light shines directly to the willow,
That resides by the stream
As the rain falls in April.

-Tiffany S.

Logo preview

Starting my shop this year (FINALLY).

It’s Sunshine and Claws Clothing. 100% handmade by yours truly.

A little if everything will be in my shop. I can’t wait to have it up and running to share! Here’s the *unfinished logo* that I will be completing digitally.