# data[].attributes.headline
magic, time, travel, and forgotten places- hailey 

# data[].attributes.subject
magic, time, travel, and forgotten places- hailey 

# data[].attributes.body
Once there was a curious and adventurous soul named Alex, who lived in an old Victorian house passed down through generations. The house, with its creaky floors and whispering walls, always seemed to breathe secrets into the ears of those who listened. One stormy evening, as the wind howled outside, Alex was tracing the familiar patterns of the wooden floorboards when a peculiar hollow sound caught their attention. Pushing aside an antique bookshelf revealed a hidden door, camouflaged so perfectly with the wall that it seemed an illusion. With a heart pounding in exhilaration, Alex pushed open the door to discover a room swallowed by time. Dust danced in the silver of light, and there, in the center, stood a grand piano, its ebony surface dulled by years of neglect. Sheets of music lay scattered around, and a single candlestick holder sat atop the piano, wax long since melted away. As Alex explored further, they found letters tucked into the piano seat-love letters, written with a passion that time could not dull. The room, it seemed, was a sanctuary for a forbidden romance, hidden away from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. The emotions that once filled the space seemed to echo through the silence, a symphony of joy and sorrow. Alex felt a connection to the past, a kinship with the lovers who had once found solace in this very room. With each note played on the piano, a piece of the story came alive, and Alex knew that this room was not just hidden space but a treasure chest of memories, a testament to love’s enduring melody. The discovery was a poignant reminder that within the walls of familiarity they may lie stories waiting to be undercovered, melodies waiting to be heard, and past lives waiting to be acknowledged.

# data[].attributes.body
In the bustling town of Fryville, there was a fast food restaurant known for its golden fries and juicy burgers. The manager, Mr.Baker, was a man of precision, who ran the restaurant like a well-oiled machine. His associates knew the drill: clock in, check the schedule pinned on the corkboard, and scan the to-do list that detailed tasks from cleaning the fryers to prepping the condiments station. Among the associates with Jamie, who was particularly adept with the fry scoop, a tool that had become an extension of their hand. They were also a whiz at the cash register, tapping the touch screen with lightning speed as they took orders with a smile. The team worked in harmony, with headsets to communicate, timers to manage the cooking, and checklists to ensure everything was up to code. However, there was one associate, Alex, whose relationship with the job was as rocky as an overcooked nugget. Alex often mixed up orders, leaving customers with a frown, and their station was a mosaic of spills and splatters. Mr.Baker has given Alex several chances, providing coaching and additional training on the digital scheduling system to manage their shifts better and even pairing them with Jamie for mentorship. One fateful Tuesday, during the lunch rush, a series of mishaps unfolded. Alex accidently dropped a whole batch of fries onto the floor and then, in a fluster, gave out a burger without the requested no-pickle amendment. Mr.Baker, with his keen eye for detail, saw the incidents unfold and pulled Alex aside. It was the third strike. With a heavy heart but a mind for business, Mr.Baker let Alex go, emphasizing that in the fast-paced world of fast food, precision and attention to customer needs were paramount. The firing was a tough but fair decision. The team felt the ripple of change, but they also knew that maintaining the restaurant’s reputation was key. Jamie took it upon themselves to double-check the stations, ensuring that Alex’s absence wouldn’t cause further disruption. The story of the day was a reminder that in the fast food dance, every step, every flip of a burger, and every smile to a customer was a part of a larger choreography that required everyone’s best performance.

# data[].attributes.body
The Calling

“Where were you last night?” The tall woman with brunette hair asked.

“Why does it matter?” The curly haired boy questioned. “It's not you care anyways.” He sat on the coach with his greasy hair drooping over his eyes. The boy had Hands in the pockets of his jeans, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

“Jacob, I have been extremely concerned for you.” The figure stood above Jacob like a tall statue looming over an ant.

“It doesnt matter.” Jacob began to have annoyance in the tone of his voice. He began to get himself up from the coach.

“Dont talk to your mother like that!” The woman moved her body like an actor for all Jacob cared. Useless fake emotions he thought. “Can't you see? Jacob, you're hurting yourself.” Her stature stood tall questioning what her mind had assumed of Jacob going out and smoking pot with his buddies.”

“I'm done with this mom. Simply done.” Jacob stood tall for a moment as if he were to reach the clouds and drooped down to an arched position. His shaggy black hair covered the flame that had engulfed his eyes. He simply put his hands into the pocket of his jeans and walked out of the house.

Her voice became one of a blur as Jacob left the yard and entered his old grey 1983 Toyota Sedan. He turned on the loud engine and shifted the gear. Jacob drove off, away from the sunset.

Smells Like Teen Spirit melodically on the radio as Jacob drove towards what he considered his end.

How low. How low. How low. How low. Each thought repeated itself like a broken record player as Jacob soared through the highway. As each yellow beam of light from the grey cars peered into the dark interior of Jacobs car, a thought would suppress itself into his brain, growing more numb by the second. Each car that drifted past him made Jacob feel more relaxed, and at peace.

“I brought you cookies.” Jacob awoke to the warm atmosphere of his childhood household. The orange light of the sunset seemed to create rayes of welcoming light into the calm house. Birds chirped outside and Jacob's mother stood infront of him, speaking to him.

“Do you hear me?” She stood there, arms on her hips. “Sweety, you dont want to sleep too much in the afternoon, now. You’ll have too much energy at bedtime.” She turned towards the direction of the kitchen and gave him a come over here gesture to Jacob. Afterwards, she entered the kitchen.

When Jacob got up from the coach he felt the blood rush into his brain, feeling light headed for a short moment. He looked around. There stood a canvass on the brown oak wood, it displayed a group of men running towards a setting sun through rolling fields of grass. Jacob stared at the painting for a moment, suddenly, he could remember the name, Fear. The title of the painting created a mix of revealed and confused emotions of an incomprehensible power. Tingles made their way down Jacobs arm like droplets of water down his shoulders, biceps, forearms, and inevitably his fingers. All the complex emotions Jacob felt disappeared just as quick as it had appeared. Within the shock, Jacob took another look around the nutmeg walled living room and realized there were pictures. Pictures of his forgotten family. However, the closer he tried to get the picture, the more his fathers face seemed to be unintelligible. His mother looked young and beautiful. Her smile had a joyful large grin, hugging her lover in the process. He himself was only a baby with little baby hair growing on the top of his head. His smile had been of confusion as a baby would be, but hidden deep within it, his heart was filled with peace and ignorance.

“The cookies are going to get cold, honey!” His mother yelled from across the house.

Jacob walked sluggishly and confused towards the kitchen. With what seemed like each step he took forward, the kitchen would grow farther. Step. Step. Step. Step. Jacob began to experience the release of hormones from the adrenal gland. His heart beat increased. Sweat arose from his forehead. Faster, faster, faster. Jacob thought. His walk turned into strides. Strides turned into a run. Run turned into a sprint.

Jacob heard the disoriented voice of his mother. “Jacob… Sweety… Dont leave me…”

Just when he thought he saw the manifestation of his mother down the hallway, a dim light appeared. The light grew brighter and brighter.

Jacobs fear manifested to excitement he experienced as a child. He felt he was chasing a grand bonanza. Let me hold this light in my palm. Just for a second. Jacob thought as he reached closer and closer.

Jacob thought he heard sirens. However, the more he listened, the more soothing a melody it became. It was the chriping of birds.

# data[].attributes.body
In a quaint, cozy cottage hidden in the dense jungle, there dwelled an unusual boa constrictor named Seraphina. Unlike her kin, Seraphina had an affinity for human artifacts, taking particular delight in lounging on the plush living room sofa. On a bright afternoon, with the cottage's inhabitants out exploring, Seraphina glided in through an ajar window. She slinked into the living room and elegantly spiraled onto the welcoming couch, soaking in the sun's rays piercing through the glass. As Seraphina lay there, the sofa's comfort enveloping her, she marveled at the vibrant cushions and their complex designs. The fabric's softness against her scales was soothing, and she surrendered to the tranquility, her eyes shut in contentment. Suddenly, the sound of nearing footsteps disturbed the silence. In a flurry, Seraphina uncurled and sought refuge, but the family entered and spotted her on the floor, her bright green eyes reflecting alarm. Contrary to expectation, the family greeted Seraphina with warm smiles. Familiar with stories of the amiable jungle snake, they recognized her harmless nature. With care, they lifted Seraphina, returning her to her favored spot on the sofa. There, she curled up again, embraced by a newfound sense of acceptance. Seraphina was a beloved visitor, spending lazy afternoons on the couch, relishing the sunlight and the presence of her human companions. In that secluded jungle cottage, a remarkable friendship flourished between a boa and her human hosts.

# data[].attributes.body
The pond nurtured for life, the perfect being of life. One where each individual, frog, fish, bird, insect who lived in the pond lived to its most perfect self. Structure followed as a Greek architect design. Each pillar had its beauty in which it was perfectly designed for.

Ithax, who was still young for his age, walked in the complete forest. He could recall the amount seconds he would walk with exact precision for he had walked through these woods for half of eternity at the same time of the day all six of the seven days a week. He had reached a large boulder, it was multiple times his height and stood there looming over Ithax. The boulder, at its angle, had and will always block out the sunlight at exactly 4:35pm where the trail had ended. The same red Robin would and had always flown above the boulder at exactly 7.77mph. Grazing slightly above the large boulder. An elk would cry from exactly 145 degrees from the North. Ithax had known it all. ‘It is beautiful.’ “Beautiful.” Ithax said to himself as he continued to walk down the trail on the other side of the boulder. Rays of the orange sun shone brightly between the automated breezes of the trees. Pine and Oak. Days were barly a concept to Ithax, for they had slipped out of fingers as individual grains of sand.

***

Ithax had returned home to where his father and mother lived, just as it was for himself. He was still ‘a boy’ according to the standards of the higher ups. It was nothing but a blue house, constructed who knows when. However, as he was reaching his hand out to the splintered door knob, he had a sudden urge to not. The idea frightened him to the core of his body. What am I doing? Ithax thought to himself as he slowly turned his head to check if anybody was watching, the higher ups were not here nor his mother or father. The curiosity of this sudden rebellion erupted a mix of emotional wonder. What mysteries lie behind me. Ithax wondered as he moved his right foot behind himself on the ancient gravel path. He hesitantly turned his hips, then his shoulders, and finally, head. Ithax saw fields and gardens stretch beyond his eye could see, the forest could be spotted curved over the horizon. The setting sun had stretched the tall apple trees' shadow long and thin. Ithax suddenly realized. If this beauty was created for me, who is it for? He understood that had broken the unspoken rule of the garden. There was no turning back, but who knew? His parents? Perhaps his higher ups would find out. Ithax spotted an elk in the distance, snacking on the tall grass surrounding the trees. He felt a curious wonder draw him to the tall tree. Ithax took his first step on the patches of dry dirt and grass, his foot felt like it had turned into a pile of bricks.

His second step.

Now Ithax felt an underlying congestion of emotions in his gut, screaming and yelling to get out.

His third step.

Ithax felt like a stiff statue, with the thought of when his parents would be home. Exactly four minutes and fifty six seconds.

His left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. The orange dusk began to glow as a euphoric wonder settled inside Ithax. What is this feeling? He wondered, the tree was near and the Elk was well.

The Elk had suddenly jolted his head from its grassy snack. It began to squeal and stare at Ithax. The two held eye contact long enough for a red shiny apple to fall onto the brown, white spotted hairy back of the Elk. Its impact had shocked the Elk and made it swiftly run away as soon as Ithax had arrived.

Those eyes. Ithax had recognized them. “Fear.” The word slipped out of his mouth as strangely as the sudden recognition appeared to him.

Ithax saw the apple on the ground, he felt a desire to eat it. His stomach growl shook deep within him for it. So he had knelled down and grabbed the apple. However, when his soft hands had struck the red crispy exterior, he felt tingles run from his fingers, down his cloaked arms, and through his spine.

Fear. He thought. Is this fear of the unknown or fear of the knowledge?

The apple was held firmly in his hand. Ithax felt the fear amit from the fruit. He took a bite.

# data[].attributes.body
In Manhattan, with the big skyscrapers and busy streets, there was a man who lived there named Alexander Drake. Alexander was a flashy businessman known for great style. He always dressed in the best tailored suits and really nice accessories. His presence never failed to turn peoples heads as he went through the city streets. Alexander's office was located in a really big and nice building in the financial district where he made big deals and made connections with the city's people and workers. His office was a reflection of him, decorated with modern art pieces and sleek furniture. Despite his flashy exterior, Alexander was a good businessman who had built himself from the ground up. He always would take risks, often venturing into uncharted territory where others feared. His boldness and competitiveness would make him a great Manhattan businessman.

One day Alexander was getting ready for a crucial meeting with potential investors and he received a call that would change his life. His longtime friend and business partner, Thomas had stumbled upon a technology with the potential to disrupt entire industries. Alexander wanted this so bad he immediately arranged a meeting with Thomas to discuss the details. They sat in a Cafe overlooking the central park and Thomas revealed the invention and it was a cutting edge energy that could take the power out and move it to somewhere else. Alexander saw this as an opportunity to make a lasting impact while reaping profits. Determined to bring the invention to market he put some money into the development and commercialization of technology. Soon the one flashy businessman found himself to be the forefront enterprise groundbreaking that promised to change the world. As months passed Alexander's relentless dedication and determination paid off. Their technology grabbed so many people's attention attracting major corporations. Alexander was still the flashy businessman but even more known and he made so much progress and was successful.

# data[].attributes.body
Details

Climbing step by step, pushing harder against the ground, Ava gained ground on the rocky terrain. Following the natural boulder path, making sharp turns to avoid large, thick tree trunks, the twins ascended. Making sure to check her brother, Zach, was close behind she bounded towards the opening in the treetops up ahead. The mountains in the summer were their favorite spot to be, however on more than one occasion it has ended on a less fun note because Zach decided to do some solo wandering.

As they progressed, the multi-shades of tree-tops above opened up to reveal more of the lit up blue sky. Stopping only to tie shoes and check out hidden caves and ditches, they made their assent in their shortest time yet.

The best part about summer is there are no expectations. You can do what makes you happy with less responsibility holding you back. Summer is filled with opportunity. Most people spend time with their friends in the summer, but I appreciate my brother just as much. There's no one more fun and authentic than someone you grew up with under the same roof. Looking at the bright colored highlights that are flowers in the neutral background of the forest, I smiled. What could be more perfect? Nothing, in my opinion. Nothing more perfect than a pop of color in an uncertain environment.

That's how Ava felt, when she was out of the woods. That's why she appreciated them so much, they showed her a reality behind everything. They showed her how immense the world was. Those woods put it all in perspective for her, with the sweat drops not stopping, ever, when she was under the bright sun hustling through the trails and opportunities for adventure. Listening to her fast steps running, her brothers chasing behind, and the creatures around, she knew she was home. Coming up to the clearing at the top, she felt that surge of happiness she felt every time they climbed all the way to the top. She felt proud. Looking out at the array of fluctuating landscape filling their horizon, they decided to stay for a while and just enjoy the view. What a summer!

Eventually, though, it would be time to head down. The sounds of the rest of the world would fill back in, and she would no longer be with the serenity of the woods.

The fall.

# data[].attributes.body
Do you remember when we used to lay on the couch? Hours laughing at those stupid shows you used to put on. Eating until our stomachs would cramp. Smiling until our faces hurt. Those are the days I could live forever. Never forgetting them as I've seen you have. We don't lay on the couch anymore. Your space now barren with the absence of you. Even when you are lounging in that spot it feels empty. Like the man sitting in your skin, laying in your spot, is an imposter of the memories we used to have. I loved the way your eyes used to look at me. Filled with the promises you never held, words you never meant. It wouldn't take much for me to believe you. Your words are like a trance around my heart. Rose-colored glasses lined my eyes to hide me from the truth of you. I now find those glasses shattered on the ground. Right next to my heart you used to hold.

The word sober spoke an ancient language in your ears. Something I always hear but never see. Saying you will but that smell on your breath cut through that trance I believed for so many years. No amount of tears I shed, words I cried, or pleads I sang were enough for you. You would never love me more than the high you chased.

I used to always wonder how your legs would never get tired after years of you running to find that feeling you so desperately craved. I tried my hardest to keep up to you, hoping you'd remember the promises you made to me. Waiting for the day my voice would be enough to bring you back to me. That day never came. My legs got too tired.

Do you miss me? A feeling I can no longer fathom. How am I to miss a man who isn't there anymore? Whoever took your face, your name, your being, isn't you. I can't face the fact that you are not you. I spend my nights searching my phone for the appearance of your name I know will not show up. I will never fully know why you held enough power over me to make me feel this way. Knowing things are the way they are but fighting my brain, not waiting to believe it. You made my life so hard. I don't understand why you like this life you've made for us. Digging a hole for yourself but throwing me down in there with you. I can't seem to crawl my way out. My legs failed me once more.

I can't even look in the mirror anymore. Seeing traces of the face I used to love being woven into mine. The skin I used to press up against yours is now burned with the void of you. My heart still races how it would when we would laugh. Now in a way only enjoyable to the demon you left inside of me. Nothing in my life is as it was. My eyes shut with tears suffocating them. I couldn't let you hurt me again. I won't.

A vibration next to me awakes me from this restless daze. My phone. The notification I had prayed to a god who was deaf to my cries, now lay under my fingertips.  My heart sinks far past my reach, my frail arms now being too weak to pick it up. It's you. You call me begging for my forgiveness as you have many times. Every time I try to believe this time would be different. It never is. You beg me to come downstairs. Walk into your arms. Hold you once more and never let go. No. I can't keep doing this to myself. You are no longer you just as I am no longer me. Despite my pleas my legs begin calling your name. Curse these damn legs.

# data[].attributes.body
Another restless night lay ahead of me. Something I dread for the knowledge of what is to come taints my brain. I've tried everything. Nothing seems to keep this faceless man from impeding on my slumber. His aura becoming a scent I can't escape, his touch an icy reminder of his presence. He won't leave me alone. An empty bottle of pills lay on my nightstand. Now just another sign of my ineffectual attempt of sleeping like a normal person. My eyes sunken, drawn with darkness around the windows that showed my youthful hope. Shaken hands and whispered voice. I'm unhelpable, unsalvagable, lost  or at least that's what every professional has said. Sleep paralysis, an incurable disease. I'm unprotectable.

My thudding head hits the pillow that lines the foam beneath me. I try to prostate my body, hiding from the inevitable. No amount of blankets or medicine can create protection, believe me, I've tried. My heart begins to race with the fact I will see him soon. Beads of sweat line my face, covering my body. My last moments of consciousness become a fight against my lungs. Gasping for breath that seems to leave my body before I allow it. And then, silence. A moment of serenity eases my soul creating a false sense of comfort that will soon be taken in his grasp. Sleep hits my body with a violent thrash. Minutes after becoming one with my bedding I'm comatose. I'm unprotectable.

His presence is an unexplainable feeling. The knowledge of an entity being there, when no one is really there, is enough to create a vicious storm in my brain. Peices flown around creating mess of what used too be so beuatiful.. I miss the person I was before knowing of the thing I've become all too familiar with. He stands in the corner of my room. His movement strikes my sleeping mind awake. Unable to move, I'm forced to watch him out of the corner of my eye. He knows I'm scared. I think he enjoys that though. You’d think after all these years of knowing him I'd get used to his nightly appearances but, no. Every night is like a terrible nightmare I'm unable to awake from. This feeling gets worse and worse with every sun setting. This feeling no longer feels like a feeling but now an alternate universe I'm trapped in. He swiftly moves closer to my body, slowly but surely. His face, now shown with an eerie smile. I feel his icy, bony fingers dancing around my legs. Bumps of fear try to create a barrier between this man and I. Nothing can protect me. I'm unprotectable.

Minutes feel like hours. Trapped in this endless nightmare of him. His hands trace my body. I clench my eyes shut as a last attempt of hiding from the figure in front of me. Silence of the night is broken by his demonic laugh. Deep in tone I feel it vibrating throughout my soul. Finally the darkness is pierced by the morning sun shining through my curtains. Saved from that man, that feeling, that laugh. Able to breathe after hours of choking back oxygen and salty tears. I am saved. For now. Until the night falls once more, as it does every day despite my prayers. Not even the sun being able to hold me in its warm arms. I am unprotectable.

# data[].attributes.body
Write about an unlikely friendship

(character ad Thomas Jefferson)

Making friends with Thomas Jefferson wasn't an easy thing to accomplish. He is a busy man! Spending hours daily baking batches of cookies to mail to his door, leaving clues to who his admirer might be. Although my identity is yet to be discovered, I have heard news of searches for the President's secret admirer. I went to his inauguration, of course. It was spectacular! And there, that's when I was noticed. Through fault of my own, my tall, cookie shaped hat caught his attention. Although I wanted to be friends, I was nervous! What if he didn't like the cookies? As he approached, my palms began to sweat. He reached out, and left me with a huge hug. From then on, my best friend was the Ol’ Hickory, Thomas Jefferson.