Tiffany Cracraft

Creative Writing Portfolio

Short Stories (Pg. 1-6) Journals (Pg. 6-18) Poems (Pg. 18-24)

Short Stories:
Old Man and the Reaper
"Old Man" or otherwise known as Johnny, was a Scottish immigrant who recently arrived at the
US. He was at peace with his mundane life, living cheaply, writing love letters to his girlfriend.
Until one fateful day, he had been living happily without much discomfort or issues.

Johnny decided to stay up late one night perfecting a love letter to his girlfriend instead of
going out to a bar with his friends. Though, in this scenario, which choice would have been
worse? Regardless, it had been just like any other night for Johnny, except that he stayed up
late. He woke up late for work, running, rushing, and riveting the letter he had written the night
prior. As he runs and rushes, whipping around the various corners and streets of his new-found
Pittsburgh town. He realizes that he forgot his new mining axe. He had just needed to buy a
new one since his old one was worn down and unpolished, unable to smash apart strong rock
which had blocked his coal mining path in the past. Yet, Johnny realized that if he went back for
his axe he would be written up by his boss, or worse, fired, as he was an anxious man from a
faraway location. With this all-in mind, he decided to leave his new shiny axe at home awaiting
another, new day of use.

This was indeed a massive mistake..........

 Johnny arrives right on the spot luckily and avoids being berated by his boss and he begins his
lone expedition in the tiny, tight coal mine that he had been assigned to explore and remove
coal from. Today was not Johnny's day at all. As there was a large-scale category 5.5 earthquake
which rumbled the coal and ground around him and caused the roof and foundation of the cave
to fall inwards, effectively trapping Johnny inside the cave without a human around to help.
Johnny runs to the cave's wall hoping to find a lit torch under all the rubble, but alas, he is
unlucky. He runs for the wall and starts to bang on the rocks for help, however, Johnny's boss
does not hear his plight and he is trapped inside the cave all alone.

The night comes in and turns cold and bleak as Johnny tries to desperately find a crack in the
cave wall, to no avail. Johnny sadly sinks to the ground thinking there's no use trying to save his
pathetic life.

Johnny thinks to himself............

"All trapped in a cave, with nothing but my own thoughts to stifle me.

How do I get out of here? What do I tell my boss, my friends, my parents and girlfriend in
Scotland if I make it out of here alive?

They will definitely want me to come home after hearing of this horror story."

Then, just as Johnny starts thinking of the life he would've had if he stayed in Scotland, a spirit,
black wispy, creature appears to form from the ground.
WHO'S THERE?!?! Johnny exclaims in astonishment as a Whisper-like mumble travels from the
cave's quiet echo to Johnny's right to left ear.

"Was it a person coming to rescue me or a crazy delusion I must be having after being trapped
in this god-forsaken cave without food or sleep."

With that thought, Johnny closes his eyes and tries to quiet his undying starvation.

Just as he does that, darkness envelopes his very being, encapsulating him in a peaceful trance-
like hypnotic state.

His heart starts beating slower.........

and slower......

and slower...

until it finally stops trying to keep his starving body alive.

As Johnny deceases, he can see his life flash before his eyes and the life he wishes he could
have kept in Scotland.
 Then..........a faint low mumbled voice whispers......

"it's time to go."

Johnny can only think of saying this one thing to this quiet mumbled voice.........

"Resisting this call will not help, will it......."

With that last thought, Johnny's life force is drained from his core, up to his throat and out his
mouth.

It glows and vibrates with a slow cadence.

Johnny's upper portion of his body falls limp as Johnny's lower half stays sitting at the wall of
the small trapped-in cave.

Days later Johnny's boss is reminded of his expedition in the cave by Johnny's coworker and his
body is found in the cave, dirty, discarded with a desperate, yet soothed demeanor......
 Demonic Dreams
Once I awoke in a dream so distorted, yet realistic and realized. I glanced at my hands to notice
their likeness to bat wings. The elastic quality, bone structure and claws were so visible I
believed they were the hands I had in the waking world. However, when I looked at my watch
the time jumped quick by the millisecond. By these two signs and by having many lucid dreams
before, I knew I had once again entered a conscious form of REM sleep.

Since I was young, I’ve had these dreams. As I fall deep into slumber, my subconscious can’t
help but to leave my brain and body. My head throbs and I feel as if my brain is floating outside
my body. Becoming consciously aware within these new realms is unusual and forbidden,
nonetheless, it’s a nightly occurrence. Nevertheless, I registered the foreign world around me.

My surroundings encompassed a glitching desert with griffins flying at breakneck pace. The
wind whooshed past me to reveal a reflective surface below the dune’s slopes. I explored for
what felt like hours, and suddenly a phantom-like figure with chameleon, fox and owl-like
features appeared. They introduced themself, but their name fell on my deaf ears as it just
sounded like TV static. We walked together further within this dream world but then I noticed
something strange. As we walked further, the sand began to kick up a storm and what seemed
to be luminescent portals appeared upon the dunes of this tumultuous realm. I could not see
what emerged from the portals, but I knew I became imprisoned in a dangerous reality as soon
as loud booms hit the dunes.

The winds began to die down, so I opened my eyes to see the figures that came into view. They
were black, ever shifting and towering over the dunes. I saw their red eyes which glistened from
the portal’s rays. I saw their mouths which extended from one end of their abhorrent veneer to
the other. Then I noticed that one figure was larger than the rest with the same features but
with more sharp teeth, more mouths, more eyes and an added angular fish head which made
this particular figure horrendous.

My brain was beginning to go into haywire. What was I going to do? How was I going to get out
of this? Why can’t I wake up from this like I normally can? The phantom-like figure I had once
 trusted looked at me with a horrendous smile and malicious eyes, and then focused on the
angular fish demon. Finally, their speech was clear to me, and they said,

“I have arrived with the lost traveler.”

“Good, then we must start the ritual.”

“What ritual! I shouted with fear. “What will you do with me!”

“Only the right thing that should have been done a long time ago” stated the angular fish.

I felt the adrenaline shoot through my body after hearing this. All the figures recited a saying in
unison as I began to run. I tried to run and run and run. Faster, faster faster. I thought as I could
feel my soul being sucked within the dunes I had once walked through with ease. No, no no. It
can’t end like this; I have to get out of here. I was rambling in my head and heaving through my
breath. I can’t wake up, I can’t! Then I realized I could simply change this dreamscape if it was
truly lucid. I thought a beach, or a party, or even a coffee shop would be a nicer environment to
transverse but to no avail. I thought this was a lucid dream, but I understand now that I have not
been able to control a single thing since I woke here.

I kept attempting to gasp the air which disappeared with the whirling storm that brewed above.
The dunes arose from their rest and clenched my appendages. I resisted with every muscle in
me.

“You can’t resist this, you want this” Expressed the Angular Fish.

“Haven’t you desired to be released from the pressure of living a life you never sought?’

“It must be hard for you, constantly fighting your inner demons to have freedom from yourself.”

“You’re always overthinking, catastrophizing but never thriving.”

“Not like this, not this way!” I shouted and gasped for air. “I never wanted to die in a dream.”

“Too bad, that’s so sad,” Sarcastically stated the angular fish.

I remember my last breath of air as I fully sunk in the dunes, never to be conscious again.
Journals:

Oddities Looking In

Ghosts and hauntings and entities.

weird things within the unknown without acknowledgement.

belonging to the outskirts of society and judged as obscure, eccentric and

dangerous.

just because they are unknown to the general public, this does not mean they are
inherently bad or dangerous like they all say.

I feel a kindred connection with these beings and things that are seen as broken or
wrong or unnatural.

Observing every place, they are in without ever really being there in the present.
On the outside looking in.
Forever being seen as nothing more than a weird thing that makes the mind
curious every once in a blue moon.

Accessible Expression

Stickers, keychains, collectibles, trinkets.

all little shiny tiny objects that I can stick around my world that encompass the
things that fill me with joy.

I look at them, observe them and think to myself if they really show the person I
want to portray to the world.

Do they show the things I love, the things I strive for in the world, my beliefs, my
personality?

I've been collecting little things since I was a child.

from Pokémon's cards, to marbles, to plushies.

I've been like this all along since I was little.

I've just changed the things I like and the things I collect.

Before they were based on other people collecting the same kinds of things as
me.

In school I would see other kids playing with marbles and Pokémon cards and
plushies and I thought, sound looks fun, let me see how that is for me.

My identity back then was merely a construct of facets of other children’s.

Yet, as I've grown up, I've collected things that make me happy and fill me with joy
rather than what I can collect that I use to play with other kids.

since I'm not in elementary school anymore, I'm a college student who knows who
I am and what I like. I can now figure out the things that make me happy and
obtain them.

Conflict

I walk through the night with bats and cats along my path.
I want to feel something against my fingertips as I traverse this long winding trail.

Everything was too little today yet too much at the same time.

Everything overwhelms and underwhelms my mind at the same time.

They coincide with one another as if they are similar or even a comparable feeling.

Music Media Meetups

Music envelopes our cores, souls, and characters as human beings.

It’s a way of connection between people that can forever change and have various
interpretations based on listeners.

Just as any other art form it is based on preference of taste such as beat, rhythm,
genre.

My specific interest in music started from other media that I was interested in
when I was little.
I'd watch Pokémon mainly and then find animatics and AMVs to watch as a kid
and those were the songs that encapsulated my childhood.

Then it evolved into animatics of other shows, and it led me to my interest in

anime as a middle schooler as well.

I still listen to some of the official soundtracks of shows I watched when I was
younger to this day.

In high school, I realized my love of music and animation and art which helped me
decide that I wanted art to be in my career someday.

I continued to watch animatics and short films until I got into college. I now still
watch them just less than I used to.

Even in college, I met people who enjoy the same artists as I do, and we would
listen to their music together from entire albums to new tracks coming out that
night.
I went to my first concert ever with a couple of friends and I enjoyed it even if I
wasn't used to the smell and the mosh pit.

Music has always been a big part of my life even if I hadn't played any instrument
continuously.

It helped me connect with others and with the different kinds of media I love to
this day.

Inevitable Restraint

Trapped within my own wants and desires. Yet doing everything I can to chase
after them.

My continuous attempt to get out of this loop and gain control is futile.

I only wish for the little things, like love, good friends and happy events.

Nonetheless, no matter what I do to obtain these things they always come out of
my grasp at the last minute.
There is always something which goes wrong that prompts me to reset once again
with another group, state or school.

I try with all my might to solve any issues I have with communication, but it seems
as though it’s of no avail.

I just want to feel content, and peaceful, yet, when that peace comes, I feel the
need for change and inconsistency.

A hamster in a ball would be the analogy I would use. The hamster runs, never
quite finding an exit out of the ball but it knows there's something out there.

A new world to explore, new adventures, new journeys, and decisions to conquer.

Yet, it’s so close yet so far.

Maybe those new peaceful adventures are what I'm so desperately seeking.

Dissociative Dissonance

I feel as though I am simply moving through the motions of life at times.

As if I'm not living for myself but I am living only for those around me.

It's a heavy, exhausting state of mind to be in everyone else's state of eye.

I want things to be different, I want to love and feel happiness.

But that's only a wish, not so much something I put thought to every time I feel an
emotion or have a thought.

That is not on my forefront, it is only a wish that encompasses the back of my

mind with the rest of my wishful thoughts and my repressed thoughts.

I've repressed so much only for it to come up in various subconscious accidental

ways in my life and I don't even understand that myself.

My peers will say they know me or that they can read me, but how is that so when
I cannot even read myself fully.
How is it that they know me after hearing one more story about me from another
person who is not myself.

To me, they simply cannot.

Otherness Curiosity

Why must humans decimate and hate those who appear different than them?

Nations go to war, opposing sides destroying the other by words, weapons and
wit.

People destroy people.

When all that's needed most often is a calm conversation.

I had always had different standards, understanding the thoughts of all those
people but never the judgement they held.
Whereas my curiosity peaked, and I explored those woods, others stood back in
fear and some even ran away.

Some judged the messy, unkempt trees and grassy terrain of the woods and
scoffed.

I've always been allured to the darkness that encases the wood's surroundings,
ready to go with an explorer pack in tow and my big black hiking boots tied on
tight.

Prepared with everything I needed to have at my fingertips.

I was made this way.

With a zip of my backpack, I was ready to go once again.

Differences Distances

I've been described in so many adjectives, odd, obscure, misunderstood........

Everything that people know about me encompasses those ideas, when I am so

much deeper than even, I portray myself to be.
My entire iceberg could never fit in the tip of theirs. They know I'm deep, but the
pressure to get down to the bottom of my depth is too much for others to bear.

Their minds often combust, implode under the weight of all my thoughts.

Yet, I've become used to all the processing, digging myself a deeper hole, forming
more ice to my iceberg, it’s inevitable.

It's what I am, it’s how I was made, it’s how my mind is and how I will forever
think and traverse the world around me.

I am often on the outside of a group just as a shadow lives outside a body on a

bright day.

I'll always be there but never fully be seen.

A cryptid in the woods, a robot constantly fixing itself based on other codes
they've implemented in my system.
I'll never be the person I used to be, and I can't be who they want of me.

I'm always in the present but I can't ever stop worrying to live in it.

I'm not human, I'm me.

Poetry:

Nocturnal Comfort

As the sky grows darker and duller, I find a sense of wanderlust and contentment.

The longer I stay up the longer I feel safe and at peace.

Even with the exhaustion it brings. It's invigorating and refreshing in its own way.

I love the surrounding quiet the night provides in its cold windy gaze.

Such strange uncharted territory can be explored as the night grows old and
brighter.
More warm and open to the sun's glow and bright form coming from the hills
once again.

Another day yet to begin.

Weather

I am bright, warm and lovely one moment and cold, distant, loud and thundering
the next.

I encompass every living and dead thing around me. All the trees, grass, dunes,
oceans, rocks and animals.

My upset scares all that come across it in the dead of night or in the dew of the
morning.

Living things relax in my warm presence or hunt for their next meal.

I will always be there in the back of all things’ minds, never able to be erased even
if those things want me to appear different for their enjoyment.
The winds, waves, warmth, and ever-changing nature is me. It’s my breath, my
noise, my life.

I must protect and change everything and everyone that I envelope as it is my

everlasting duty.

Time Everturning, History Repeats Its Demise

As civilizations disguise dreams as ordinary reality.

Society is in a state of paranoia and delusion, within the mysterious chaos that is
life.

Some are deluded obstacles in their own way only waiting for the stars and dust to
erase them from the universe, as if they were only ants in its grasp.

I find peace within this notion, that we are small particles of the past, uncertain of
our place.

There's a humble comfortability in knowing that our human existence is only futile
to the vastness of all the things the universe encapsulates and creates.
Life seems like the apex of the universe's entire existence in this sense.

Yet, humanity doesn't allow for that truth to metastasis, authority only masks the
truth with liqueur, celebration, and beautiful lies.

Poems:

Childlike Ideals

A tool used to transmute any kind of creativity. A creator’s mind is the master of
this utensil.
Raw, long black, and metallic.

A vessel full of ink and at the end, lies a ballpoint in which is somewhat similar to
the sheath of a sword.

Only wielding the tool to convey our creative minds at the opportune time.

Ink bleeds through a page putting the artist's ideas and thoughts on raw display.

As if they were only speaking from their heart and soul and not from their brain
the way all else intends.

Children run through their homes grazing their walls with a pen in hand.
Creativity, thoughts, ideas coursing through the veins.

Only to have consequences and order put upon them like shackles and chains.

Holding those ideas back from expressing their full thought and potential

We all do this. As humans grow, we become more ordered, less messy because of
what we are taught.

Tradition, stability, organization used as a tool to stiffen creativity instead of

intertwining with it.

Those shackles and chains they force on us as malleable children get so tight, they
make our skin raw, red stinging, then numb and purple.

As children scream for their voices to be heard, for their ideas to be loved. They
are only shoved away for the more “mature way” the “logical way” of wielding a
pen.

So tightly, and so contained and controlled.

Irresistible Escape

I am an invisible spirit looking at the world and universe through an all-knowing

lens.
I am everything and nothing all at once.

I dance, love and emote all at once when it is not allowed of my kind. I am wild,
messy and kind but I will never be what they want of me.

This yearning for love is forbidden for me but yet........it encompasses everything I
am.
Yet, I cannot be this way, I can't allow myself to become something I'm never
destined to be.

For many consequences and punishments await me if I fall under those spirits
around me.

I’ve heard of those who’ve escaped the wrath of authority…those who despite
being punished by their mouths being sealed shut or their wings being clipped so
they can no longer fly and spread their message.

They got the courage to escape against all the others, so why can I not? I plan
without any action being taken, only to become exactly what I’ve hated for so
long.

Living in harmony with those around me is yet just another unattainable dream I
will eternally desire. Yet, never have the courage to move towards it effectively. I
can only lurk in the shadows, passing on my dream only to those who will listen to
my please.
I sit in a dark, cold room. I am on my knees trapped by chains to a black brick,
dirty wall.

Once all come here, I’ve heard they will never escape…

But I only have hope that I can gather the courage to become like the ones who
escaped before me.