# data[].attributes.body
One may see a hedgehog as an impractical pet, but I completely disagree. Yes, hedgehogs can be closed off if provoked or nervous, but if they have trust and let their guard down, they can be the sweet, soft animals most see them to be. My pet hedgehog Sonic is a interesting creature. When you think of sonic, you may think of the fast, blue hedgehog, but my sonic is a lazy spikeball who sleeps all day. But sonic isn’t just that. He has beautiful crimson eyes and delicate white spikes coming out of his back. His fur, a pure white, fluffing up when I pet him. Sonic has a delicate nose with a pink tip that picks up every smell around him. I always wonder what’s going on behind his eyes. I came across Sonic in an unfortunate way, but I’m glad I did. I was walking by a pet store that was shutting down, and on the window of it was a sign that read “Please Take Animals. Will be put down otherwise.” I knew I wasn’t at a place to be taking in a pet, as I lived alone, but I saw a little ball of spikes sitting in the window, just peeking out. I just couldn’t leave him alone.

# data[].attributes.body
My new buddy Casco was number one on trending. No one really knows how he came to be scientifically isn't possible . Many people have even tried to buy him for millions, even billions sometimes . I've been personally reached out to by multiple big names but I declined Because owning the WORLD'S FIRST… well actually hold on, let me tell you about him my family loves him he's so sweet to the young kids and is very gentle but also is also a top of the food chain predator and that's why we were worried about food cost especially with his size he is roughly 420lbs and you can't feed him dog food which would be handy, but glad we don't have to cause that would get expensive but he goes out and hunts for himself and will come back sometimes carrying whole cows which was very impressive to think about the sheer power those wings generate to carry a near 1 ton animal . My friend Stetson has been trying to help me train him but it's not going so well because he specializes in dog training and he's a good one at that but he wasn’t Much help with Casco Because he is no Canine. He brings a lot of attention to the business though people come from all over to get a look at Casco and eat some seafood. He loves it too because people will usually give him some of their meal . but maybe I tell you who he is now he's feathery and furry has a beak and wings but a tail with a fluffy tuft of hair on the end and big feet with larger claws if you haven't guessed yet he's a majestic griffin a large griffin with the biggest of wings who sleeps on the roof and carries me by back to school everyday hes the best .

# data[].attributes.body
Head of the table,

She dines with her canine friends.

Watching them consume

Glistening red flesh

Thumping softly there, alone.

Veins drip with warm blood

Making jaws water.

Slathering maws full of teeth

Swallowing it whole

Drinking in the scene

Chest filled with painful longing.

She has grown up fast.

# data[].attributes.body
The dark days

The inconsolable days

The days that feel like forever

The days that feel like all hope is lost

All the days that felt rough, the ups and downs

All the days you hoped would finally end

But then there are.

The good days

The blessedness

The days that make you wanna live forever

All the days you had been waiting for finally came

# data[].attributes.body
Quaint. Somewhat lonesome in that field it sits upon. The thin, tall grass sways, making the sound of pouring rain, brushing against each other. The walls creak with every gust of wind, and the chimney hasn't blown smoke in decades. People were inside, but there was no one to keep warm. The ocean slithers its way upon to the shore nearby, the ocean is such a beautiful place, yet this house gave it an evil feeling to such a pure blessing. The windows have been open for a few hours. Squeaking and needing lots of force to unlock and let in the breeze. Yet, the gate was closed, like it never had been opened. How did this happen? It’s so odd. Watching from the yellow lines of the empty road, you peer in. It’s almost eerily comforting, like seeing an old childhood toy that’s been well loved. The longer you stare, the more it’s stiff boards welcome you. Each creak changes to warmer tones of sound. You take a step forward. It’s already grown so fond of you. It wants to have you, as you want to look inside. The wind skims over the waves, growing higher and faster. Your scalp feeling the salty gust. Your skin is still blotched with pink and turning clammy from the remnants of tears. You’re not insane, you’re not out of your mind. You’re smart, intelligent, and they have nothing but cotton in their skulls. Who cares what you say about them? All they said about you? You can say whatever you want about them, tell their darkness to the house. Their secrets. How they all f*cked you over. Tell the house. The wind picks up wrapping you in prickling chill. Check your fingers, what color are they? Standing in your thin, t-shirt. It looks amazing on you. You look beautiful. It wouldn’t hurt just to get away from the wind for a little while.

# data[].attributes.body
From the point of view of a street corner

Everyday after the last bell rings I have a gaggle of pre-teens who stop by to regather themselves, meet their friends or just stand and talk. Everyday since I could remember the middleschool down the road would let out and its inhabitants walk down and all meet at “The Rock”. The Rock, I assumed, was me, because off of my cement halfway in the grass stood a rock. When I was created she was here; and no one felt the need to move the rock. I was poured and set around her. She's not anything special in size, from what I see the whole thing could have been avoided by getting a few men to roll her just a foot or two. Maybe they were just lazy, or she's bigger than she looks. Or maybe, she was simply there first, it would have been wrong to remove her when they were intruding on her home.

# data[].attributes.body
Yesterday I went to the flea market and I just got a brand new snake. We have no idea what breed it is but it sure is scary looking. He's about 4 feet long and has a bunch of different colors. Mostly orange and black although. I haven't named it yet. Its cage is literally half of my room. He was found in a rainforest in some random part of south america but we have no idea how old it is. It was so hungry the first day I got it, it ate like 6 mice in a day. My brothers and sisters love it yet my mom is not the biggest fan as she is terrified of snakes and pretty much anything that isn’t a dog or a human. Yesterday we had “bring your pet to work day”, of course I brought the snake. I had to carry  him in a duffel bag the entire time and at one point he even got loose. My coworkers were terrified but he is actually very nice. Once they realized that everybody calmed down and was extremely fascinated by him.

# data[].attributes.body
For all the times I’ve sat stuffed in Church pews I surely had to have born my soul to the Lord. He knows, undoubtedly, that I’ve dragged myself through personal Hell and then back again to you.

Yet there I sat again this morning. There I dragged heavy feet and lungs to your eternal wooden bed. You lay beneath the cross and I lay on top of you, arms and head pressed against your chest and ear straining in case your heart beat again. It did not. My eyes welled with tears and dropped onto that dress you loved so much. I apologized profusely and softly, but for the first time in fifteen years you did not stroke my hair and reassure me that everything was alright.

Someone must have eventually dragged me away, taken my hand and led as though I was a helpless child. I remained like a porcelain doll to the world around me, one rough tap away from shattering into pieces that would only inflict damage on others. Your brother had driven me back to the house and gotten me to sit on the couch, on your spot. The one where you could see the rest of the room and a glimmer of the kitchen beyond the corner. The spot where the Sun would shine through the windows and leave golden tracks of light across your face so you appeared to the rest of the world to be as ethereal as you always are to me.

Sometimes sorrow cannot be expressed through words, one must find another way. For me this is screaming, allowing my soul to wrench itself free of my body and talk for itself in the only way it knows how. Screaming is perhaps the absence of words as much as pure blissful silence is. So I sat there and screamed and eventually cried until my head and throat hurt too much to keep going. Our dog came over to rest his head on my knee once I was done, you know how much he hates loud noises.

# data[].attributes.body
After I had graduated from college my first instinct was to get an animal. I had been deprived of a frolicking, ferocious creature for much longer than a human should go without having a pet. I didn’t want an ordinary, standard dog or cat with wagging tails and a panting smile, I desired a unique, energetic brute with cognitive thinking and tiny fingers. So, I did what was necessary and traveled to the fragmented area of the Tibetan Plateau to retrieve a golden snub-nosed monkey. I researched their diet and human-like characteristics in order to construct an enticing way to capture one.

I ventured into the Plateau, scouting out any movement or vibrant orange accents. After about an hour of searching my ears were finally drawn to an array of various grunts and squeaks. I followed the unquiet noise until my eyes encountered a blazing golden-orange lump, perched on a low hanging tree branch. I deftly inched up to the creature with a plentiful container of lichens in hand, intending to slide next to it. Once I was standing almost parallel to the orange lump of fur I held out a lichen, he then peered at me with dazed eyes and we both made our way home.

I’ve had Li for almost a year now. He still flaunted his elegant golden-orange fur with a cream-colored belly and long black fur streaming down his immense arms and upon his crown. His face is my favorite part, highlighted in pale blue with his nostrils arranged forward and canines like a hippopotamus. Since I got Li we have grown together, learning each other's language and spending time playing cognitive games, and eating a variety of international foods. However, when it comes to other humans Li resorts to a shy nature. Timidly hiding behind chairs or curtains before making an effort to meet the infiltrator. Li’s social traits and loyalty has provided me with security and vitality. Reinforcing that I can do anything I put my mind to and that the world is full of wondrous creatures that can instantly change ones’ life.

# data[].attributes.headline
Art as Inspiration - Skeleton Hand and Rose

# data[].attributes.subject
Art as Inspiration - Skeleton Hand and Rose

# data[].attributes.body
It was a dark and dreary room with a round table and four chairs. Forgotten playing cards were strewn about and a single dying candle sat by one of the chairs that was occupied. In fact, it probably wasn’t even a room. It didn’t look like a room. It was just… nothing. Perhaps it was all shadows, perhaps it was the darkness under someone's bed. Perhaps it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Is that impossible? Perhaps not.

When you come to think of it, perhaps it is a realm that is not the one you understand. Perhaps this is all these occupants know, but then again it probably isn’t. They’re known, but have been forgotten about, like many others in other realms. They are still mentioned, but their stories are forgotten, similar to a few other occupants of other realms that are nothing but shadows and holes of what they were once imagined to be.

Perhaps everything exists, even when it is not said out loud. And perhaps everything is forgotten, eventually. With everything everywhere and nowhere with meaning and without purpose all entwined into different ropes of ideas and realms that you can’t understand because you have a mind.
Death does not have a mind and so therefore he is free.

That is who sits upon that one occupied chair out of four, staring at the playing cards with a rose in his boney hands. He had a name once, but whoever had dreamt him into existence had forgotten to write it down. Now he was only known as Death. He had a life once, or perhaps he imagined it, a life that his creator had not written down. Not one surrounded by bets and wages and duties. Sometimes he felt as if he was just pulled on strings, swayed one way or the other when it came to governing and falling in line. Perhaps he was, who am I to tell, who is he to tell, who are you to tell?

He didn’t sit alone for long, but perhaps it felt that way to him. Having the ability to drift off into nothingness as he stared at the rose, moving it gracefully through the bones of his fingers. Three figures returned, there was no sound as they moved about and sat down in their seats, picking up their cards.

“How’d it go?” Death asked, keeping his eyes on the rose.

“Dreadful as always,” one who was covered in continuous blood and had a voice of rage said. That was War. “Sorry about the mess and dragging you into this.”

“You say that every time,” Death muttered, stroking a petal of the rose. “You each say that every time. Why is it that even when I am not present, I have to participate?”

“It’s not my fault every time I present an idea for these creatures to do, he gets in the way,” another said, pointing accusingly at War. That was Conquest. Dressed for battle with a sword and gold wrapped around him. “It would be so much easier if he stopped pestering me.”

“I just match your bet every time,” War sneered. “What is the glory in your art if there isn’t war to follow? How will they feel accomplished and able to cheer?”

“Perhaps if you both stopped fighting I wouldn’t have to be dragged into the messes you refuse to clean up.” Death snapped his jaw.

“You should be yelling at Plague then,” War glowered, turning to the last of them. “He’s been drunk for however long and is the one that’s making you constantly work.”

“There are too many of them,” Plague protested for the thousandth time. “Death knows this, that’s why he even allowed me to do it.”

“You cheated!” War shouted.

“We’ve all cheated,” Conquest sneered. “Remember -?”

“Shut up.” Death interrupted, his hand tightening around the stem of the rose. “We’ve all cheated so there is no point in arguing about who cheated when and for what purpose.”

“Yes well Plague has just been having a joyous past few years while War and I have done nothing,” Conquest snapped. “You work all the time, how can we work when there is Peace with them?”

“There will never be Peace,” Death countered, stroking the flower. “They killed him, remember? We killed him, remember?”

“Perhaps -.”

“We killed Peace!” Death roared jumping from his seat, the flower decaying in his hands as he glared at the three of them. “So long as Peace is dead, and he will stay that way, I will get dragged into every fight, every disease, and do my job because you three just refuse to take a break!”

Silence.

“It’s not as if they don’t die naturally.” Plague pointed out.

“That’s because Life gets sick of them.”

# data[].attributes.body
The lowly, darkened street corner. I wait and wait. Sometimes a ray of sunshine beams into the afternoon, but it’s mostly rain. I’ll wait some more. The pavement becomes light and icy in the winter as I stand outside the apartment building. The walls of purple concrete are inviting but I still continue to wait. I’ll be there, he said. I knew he was always bad with time. I also knew he was bad with sobriety. Driving down a dark road at seven-o’clock, swerving back and forth between the yellow line. He had tried keeping the promise before, of course to no avail. For the majority of my life in between 2 cars and two homes, I thought it was my fault. He doesn’t want to come pick me up. The work stress had become the excuse, or that fact that driving was dangerous, even on the sunny days. I would wait for those hours and hours. I would wait for the sound of cars coming down the road, anything, to give me a semblance of hope that this time, I would actually be picked up. But the hours went on, and nobody that cared about me pulled up in that beat up old Nissan Frontier, or the now converted work car Civic. No headlights beam. My mom is telling me to come inside, but I just want one more hour. Another hour that goes to waste waiting for headlights and a horn that deep down I know I’ll never get. It could be only a matter of time before lost tears equal to those headlights being something I don’t want to see.

# data[].attributes.body
A bright yellow tulip in a beautiful bright colorful meadow with a tiny mouse in the center of the flower. While the sun is setting with a bright orange and pink sky the mouse happens to peek out of the center just showing his tiny paws and his cute soft face sniffing the air with his light pink nose and his long transparent whiskers. Sun setting quite quickly, he waits for the birds flying around the meadow to go back to their nests. With very little light left and the birds flying back to their nests; he jumps out of his bright yellow home and finds his friends stuffing seeds, nuts or anything that they can find to take back to their bright warm homes. The little mouse has to hurry or else his tulip will close their petals for the night. He happens to find some sunflower seeds and scurries back to his home, with just a petal left to close he barely makes it and takes a deep breath with his ears and whiskers being pushed behind him from the sigh of relief.