# data[].attributes.body
Chestnut, greasy hair neatly coiffured to reveal a fine, radiant face. Glittering hazel eyes, set thightly within their sockets, watch intently over the village they've sought solace in for so long.
A scar stretching from the top of the left cheek , running towards her upper lip and ending under her right eye leaves a pleasurable memory of forbidden adventures.
She stands seductively among others, despite her athletic frame.

There's something mystifying about her, perhaps it's her bravery or perhaps it's simply a feeling of delight. But nonetheless, people tend to subtly ignore her, while helping her out in any way they can.

# data[].attributes.headline
The Very Irritated Zazer (because his earlier post got deleted)

# data[].attributes.subject
The Very Irritated Zazer (because his earlier post got deleted)

# data[].attributes.body
He has strangely spiked yellow hair in the shape of his last name (M for Muto), and massive, cute, and, yes, massively cute eyes which are like those of a puppy dog, for reasons unknown to everyone.

# data[].attributes.body
My Sister

Her luscious, brown hair covered her face, not daring to reveal anything. You could just make out her eyes. Brown, like her hair, but more of a darker shade of caramel. Her nose had a little pimple on it, but that didn't stop its magnificence shining through. It was the perfect shape. Then there was the thing that no one could miss. Her mouth. Her smile saturated everything else and her teeth shone like the sun, but they were much more then that.

She was wearing the most amazing dress and even though i'm not a peticular fan of her, she did look like the most beautiful human being ever to grace this planet.

# data[].attributes.body
He had that browny-black hair, that wasn't greasy, but still dark, murky green eyes. his skin was tan, but not overly dark, as he spent most of his time at Buffalo Wild Wings or in his house. He wore denim jeans, worn, yet not torn and keeping the same whitish-blue. His shirt was always a polo, like most men wear, but his were frequently striped. Most prevently his dark navy-blue and white striped one. He wore brown leather shoes, the kind that weren't exactly black, but close. He always seemed to be smiling, laughing or making puns. He always full of energy, except when he was sick which was often, although we denied it.

His name: Emile.

# data[].attributes.headline
William: The old man on the side of the road

# data[].attributes.subject
William: The old man on the side of the road

# data[].attributes.body
The man sat there, watching with his deep-blue eyes, waiting for something, anything. His gnarled hands were clasped around a walking stick, lined with knots and grooves in the wood. He sat on the side of the quiet road, clutching his sickly blankets and patting his dog continually

His hands were full of a long life, lines and scratches showing his many year's experience. The uncut nails were dirty, the fingers were long and bony. The clothes he sported were battered and soaked, with irremovable stains coating the thick jacket and frayed trousers. A brown fedora lay low on his storm-grey hair, only just touching his furry brows. The man's shoes were half-destroyed, the disgusting toes just poking through a round hole.

The old man was balding. He did not have a beard, though he showed

no signs of shaving showed. His face was bony and the pale cheeks were thin. The mouth was cut into a wide line going straight across his face. Wrinkles showed here and there, proof of his age. Though his face was so grim it was those eyes that sent the kids on their way, beaming like happy babies.

Those deep blue eyes twinkled like the soft sea. Like the ocean glittering under the merry rays of the evening sun.

# data[].attributes.body
'How dare you!'

Her eyes were like the pupil's of a snake, but red. Her long, black hair streaked across her face making it look like she'd been dragged backwards through a bush, and I definitely. I was holding back my laughter. Of course she was mad, but everyone in that class had to admit that that prank was FU-NNY! Once I was sure that I would not burst out laughing and completely embarrass myself, I looked into her eyes and tried to act solemnly, and that I was sorry. I was staring up at the horrifying face of Ms Watson.

"Black clothes suit her" was my first thought. And they did. Her bared teeth and coal-black eyes made her look like a witch. Just a black cat and a few broomsticks would do it.

Okay, I guess I've been holding back a bit. What happened was that at sport, no one was having any fun playing 'Bull Rush'. I was going to be the hero of the day, and save everyone by getting rid of sport once in for all!

'Ms Watson, I feel sick!' I grumbled and toppled over. At once, my friend Tara ran over and whispered, 'Prank?' I nodded with a mischievous grin on my face. She grabbed my arm and took me to the witch, her face concerned. The witch looked at me carelessly. I stood up grabbed her arm, toppling her over through the green and brown bushes, her black dress all over the place. I Then, I ran

# data[].attributes.body
Glossy, silky ebony hair. Big, soft blue eyes. She sat elegantly, reminding you of a bird, the way she could instinctively react to sounds and actions. She was the picture of beauty, the way she sat and moved. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her skin was the shade of hot cocoa, as warm and smooth as the sunset. Her face had a soft expression on it, yet could also be as unforgiving as stone. She could bring down people with her glare. Her arms and legs were slender, silky as soon as you touched them.

# data[].attributes.headline
If f->2x(2)=4, then this is my continued post (from 'Jet 2nd to 5th')

# data[].attributes.subject
If f->2x(2)=4, then this is my continued post (from 'Jet 2nd to 5th')

# data[].attributes.body
My brother is that sort of person. The kind who forces you into making his wishes come true. The kind who blames every bad thing he does on you. He is dangerous - both literally and metaphorically. Avoid him or pay for it.

He breaks so many rules that a rule was put in place to stop him breaking rules but he broke that one as well.

# data[].attributes.body
His eyes are weathered, but full of joy. His nose is big. His teeth are fake. His hair is like wisps of silver smoke, comed delicately across his head.

His belly round, his arms strong. Wearing an old shirt and white pants, he occupies himself in his garden. My grandma gets angry with him when he wears his good pants in the garden, but he doesn't care.

# data[].attributes.body
I sat solemnly in a vinyl chair in the dentist waiting room. The receptionist sat in a fabric office chair behind the huge desk, picking up the phone on a average of once every three minutes. Doing this, she spun around and flicked her lush abundance of auburn locks around glamourously. With a ring, the door flunked open, and an opinionated delderly woman strided in. She moved awkwardly, making the showy string of pearls laid upon her neck bounce up from her chest. The woman outspread her arms and began to talk.

"I DEMAND A REFUND" She started. "THE TOOTHBRUSH I BOUGHT FROM YOU HAS SNAPPED!"

The receptionist, trying her best to remain polite, replied, "Sorry, mam, but unless you still obtain your receipt, that will be impossible." The receptionist looked up, widening her large eyes shaped like saucepans, the colour of ocean. Now she stood up, staring into the deep eyes of the old woman, and the cascading wrinkles, framing her eyes. The phone rang, once again. And the receptionist answered it immediately.

# data[].attributes.body
His hands filled with pure aura. His cloak flapped in the wind and his black hair ___ in the wind. His shining blue eyes shon as greatly as the stars and a aura filled him from top to bottom.

# data[].attributes.body
His knarled hands tousled my hair, his brown eyes looked solemnly into mine. I grabbed the sloppy joe; Riddle with holes and covered in seeds and hay from the harvest. His teeth perfectly alined were set in his defiant, stubborn jaw. Eyes twinkling like a child, yet old, weathered, filled with wisdom. Reaching for his hat, he popped his old cap onto my head saying, "Your head is about the same size of mine." It was a running joke in our family. The sun beat down on his face as his wrinkles creased up into a smile as we trudged down the old track and my grandpa gave of this somekind of vibe. This is were we were truly alive.

# data[].attributes.body
No eyes. They have no eyes. Pale white faces. No eyes. They wear Victorian-style suits, complete with a black velvet top hat. They have no eyes or nose. Their mouths are filled with rotting, sharp uneven teeth. I can tell they have black blood, that is the color of their lips and tongue. They raise their glove hands. I remember this. I remember this all too well.

A man sits in a dungeon, far away from what is happening. he hears the whispers in the back of the world. he hears what is happening to me. he mutter in a gravelly voice under his breath. Seemingly to no-one in particular, but secretly, talking, whispering to me.

"Do you hear the whisper men?

The whisper men are near

if your hear the whisper men,

then turn away your ear.

Do not hear the whisper men,

whatever else you do

for once you've heard the whisper men

they'll turn

and look at you"

# data[].attributes.body
I stared up at the buildings that soared up into the air as far as the eye could see. Most people thought that the smoke and the buildings are horrible and I agree, yet there is some beauty within them, lurking under the surface. I've always loved the buildings' vastness, the people in the windows, of people doing their jobs to the limit of their abilities. Here I feel at home because it may be the only thing that accepts me for who I am, truly am, not just a fake image of myself that my parents have put place.

# data[].attributes.body
Her hazel eyes stared back at me. the eyes weren't hazel hazel like my, but more brown than green, an uneven balance. Her hair was a dark brown, like wet earth or mud, it almost looked black and that is what many people mistook her hair colour for. Her face had a determined look set upon it, a face that many would mistake for stubbornness. Her face was the same shape as mine, a face that curved towards the chin at the same time as mine (this was proved with an app where you can take a picture of half a face and then put someone else's next to it). She was my mum, where many would say she looked like my sisters, she was exactly like me with all my imperfections and features. Many would say I'm like my dad, but no, I was exactly like my mu

# data[].attributes.body
His face is creased into a constant frown as he sits at the hard birch desk, staring out the open window at the old gum tree and the nesting birds. His eyes sparkle with kindness and slowly, ever so slowly his face transforms until he is beaming. His short black hair is ruffled by the wind as he turns to face me.

# data[].attributes.body
The delicate clouds coated the sky, creating strings of light, shining through on the all buildings. The brilliant sun smiled down onto the trees and what seemed like minute houses scattered amongst them. The clouds were multi-coloured and from the sunset, it almost looked like an artwork stewn across the sky. It seemed like calm colours were splashed across the bright blue sky and turned into fluffy clouds. They shuffled across the sky, always moving on. Sometimes I would wish to be a cloud. Just floating across the sky, not a care in the world, so peaceful and tranquil. They moved in such patterns that even the smartest human wouldn't be able to solve such complex things. Watching them made it seem like the sky was cheerful, and everything would be alright. I would not let that fool me, for the sky could turn any moment and become a monstrous creature, striking the ground with bolts of shimmering electricity, clouds black with anger, booming with power down on the earth. There was nothing that could barricade the path of the sky, it was the master of all and could sink ships and turn mighty buildings intpo rubble and debris. It could choe to be the master of destruction and pandemonium or freedom and tranquility. Such change would be thought to be impossible, but no, the sky is capable of anything.

# data[].attributes.body
His hair was short with a large bald patch. His eyes were seemingly gold, staring at everything. His nose had a bump on it, but was barely noticeable. He wore a waistcoat and a striped fedora was held in his bulky hand. His hands had long fingers. His trousers were long and slim with a gray tone to it. His smile was broad and shining, contrasting to his darker skin. He was sunglasses with a gold-plated frame. His shoes were made out of brown leather, with the end jutting out.

# data[].attributes.body
She was wearing that long, silky blue dress, and shiny, white heeled sandals. The flowing black hair was pulled together in a plait, a chic silver hairband holding the short fringe back. Her delicate brown eyes were clearly visible under the short, black eyelashes. Her lips shined under the sun, lip gloss smothered over the rosy, red lips. Her long fingernails and toenails were neatly painted with nail polish, a cute little pattern: flowers. Minature. She was the perfect girl. Perfect all over.

# data[].attributes.body
The park was a giant creature. King of everything. The fountain was beaming with light from the scorching ball. The crystal-clear water dappled as a fierce drake approached. I gazed around curiously as it had been my first day ever to a foreign country.

At the apartment, I remembered my home, Australia. The kangaroos grazing on long grass, sparkling, appearing to be painted. Their young were a lighter shade and way more adorable than the agressive parents, which fight on an colossal green sea. It could even be a boxing ring.

I let the memory rest inside my befuddled mind. The sun was already dropping. The sky had a kind of maroon colour. The apartments just kept on running, until my dark but shining eyes could not see into the unpredictable horizon. The birds chirped in the recently-done nest. The tree was infested with all kinds of miniscule insects. I stepped inside. Everything seemed to fade away...

# data[].attributes.body
My dog Rocky is a huge Labrador. His chocolate fur ripples in the wind, showing the sleek muscle underneath. His eyes are a deep yellow, almost brown, and as big as saucers. His head is at least as large as mine, and the coat on it is a dark ginger, verging on brown. His powerful nose, always wet, is, as usual, searching for new scents in the long, tussocky grass of our front lawn. His pink tongue sticks out sideways, wavering in the wind. He walks over  and starts dousing me with that tongue, giving me the sensation that I am underwater.

His collar, a thin metal chain (he chewed through everything else), is on his neck, looking uncomfortably like a necklace. His tail wags from side to side at superspeed, as dangerous as a whip. He has an air of mischief about him, an air that probably means he is about to rip something of mine to shreds. I try to put him on one of his leads (also metal) and attempted to walk him up to the shops. Before I have gone three paces, the lead is ripped out of my hands, a tribute to his strength.

# data[].attributes.body
Her hair curled gently over her shoulders, a delicate caramel colour, perfectly tied back into a ponytail, which may have looked drab and boring on some people, looked elegant and pretty on her. A navy ribbon was tied in a perfect bow on her hair elastic. Her skin had a beautiful creamy sheen and she radiated good health and perfection. Deep brown eyes, rich as chocolate peered from her face, with thick black lashes like curtains.

The plain school dress looked like the highest fashion when she was wearing it. Black Mary Janes, shined so much you could see your face in them, accompanied by pure white socks completed the outfit. A little gold watch clung to her wrist, the kind with dots instead of numbers. Dirt would not dare to blemish her silky skin, and freckles were never seen on her.

Flawless was one word to describe her. Scruffy was one word to describe me.

From the moment I saw her, I detested her.

# data[].attributes.body
I looked up from my breakfast as Elise walked in, ready for her cereal. Her strawberry-blonde hair shone in the sunlight, making it look like it was golden, and not greyish-yellow. Her deep, brown, almond-shaped eyes peered down at me, and she stretched her pale pink lips into a thin smile. Her hair was tied back by a green scrunchie, clasping it at the back firmly like a hand. Her pale skin was streaked with freckles, and her turned up nose showed no sign of a snob. You couldn't tell that she got out of bed fifteen minutes ago. She looked like the hard-working student that she was. The typical year two kid.

# data[].attributes.body
His eyes were deep, looking into them like trying to peer into an endless lake to see the bottom. One eye was devoid of emotion, a black abyss, empty and lifeless, the other the colour of flowing blood, hateful and full of past hate and rage. His lips were curled back in a crooked snarl, thick, black hair draped down his shoulders, heavy chainmail covering his bloody visage. A blue cloak rippled down from his shoulders to his knees, enwrought with golden and diamond flakes. he held himself up like he was a king, practically screaming royalty, his haughty manner demmanding attention. the pattern of his chainmail had been forged by a master, each individual ring forged with care then linked together to create a beautiful artwork, a painting so beautiful it was worthy of the finest artists. His greaves had been tempered with the finest leather, iron links outlining them, fitting perfectly with the chainmail. He appeared wise yet young, strong yet old, a figure worthy of respect and awe, yet fear inspiring, the look on his face stating that he would be ordered by no one, not even death himself in his black robe. His boots were worn, trodden down by thousands of steps walked across the lands, close and far, distant lands were the world no longer followed logic.

# data[].attributes.body
His black fur bounced up and down with every bound and leap. As he ran into the distance the tinkle of his litte bell echoed in the silent park. He wore nothing but a tiger-striped collar around his neck and from it, a small nametag hung. I could still hear the rattle of his collar and off to my right a flickering street lamp went out and were plunged into darkness. At my feet, a soft brush of newly-trimmed fur told me Alfie was alright. His shadow stretched about a metre ahead and the light behind me came back on. Poking his tongue out at me, he licked his nose, making it shine and glimmer like the still ocean- no waves or wind, a look of pure perfection.

# data[].attributes.body
The harsh cold winds battered my dark hair from a soft mound of feathers to a stiff spike. My clothes were reduced to straight and an unchangeable grey clod.

The sea was crashing against the the rocks, lapping like a dog, eager to strike at a moments notice. The rocks were a fortress, keeping the sea at bay.

# data[].attributes.headline
Queen Maria of Love Hearts etc, etc, lav.

# data[].attributes.subject
Queen Maria of Love Hearts etc, etc, lav.

# data[].attributes.body
"Ugh! Why do I ALWAYS end up being the only person standing alone?"

"You're not."

I turn to the mysterious voice behind me and it takes almost all my willpower to stay conscious.

Nikki was dazzling. She had sparkly silver eyeshadow covering her eyelids, so wherever she looked the area would always be sparkling. Her already long eyelashes had been curled up and she had evidently run her lashes through with mascara because they were darker and slightly thicker than usual. The black and silver contrast actually complemented her dark-coloured eyes. I don't know many people who can pull that look off, but apparently Nikki can manage. Yay Nikki! (she's one of my closest friends at St Charles, after all).

As the dim light of the evening settled in, Nikki's tanned skin started to stand out against everyone else's pale skin. I looked down at myself and realised that I, too, stood out from the crowd. Well, at least I've got something in common with my awesome-looking friend.

Today, she was wearing a very nice cream-coloured blouse and some worn out jeans, but no matter how torn and tattered her jeans were she was still incredibly beautiful. Her long, dark brown hair was tied up in a plait, yet it could still just barely brush the back of her knees. I stared at her shoes. They were the kind that lit up every time she put her foot down on the ground. I've seen many people wearing this, but hers seemed to stand out more than anyone else.

# data[].attributes.body
Long brown hair gently fell over her shoulders. Her eyes were the colour of chocolate, or autumn leaves.

She wore her favourite outfit. The blue dress that glimmered in the sunlight. Her silver sandals glistened and sapphire teardrops drooped from her ears, shades of blue hung over each of her eyelids. Her long nails had each been painted with the same deep shade of blue, like the ocean.

The crystal around her neck dazzled and shone in the sunlight. Her face smiled and smiled, it never faded away. Her rosy red lips contrasted against her white teeth. Her gentle chuckles flew across the room and once more, she pulled that charming smile.

Slightly pink at the cheeks, I walked away from the mirror.

# data[].attributes.body
He has strangely spiked hair, and massive, cute, and, yes, massively cute eyes which are like those of a puppy dog,

# data[].attributes.headline
Oliver. P.S, this actually happened today

# data[].attributes.subject
Oliver. P.S, this actually happened today

# data[].attributes.body
Her golden-brown hair draped down her neck like water cascading down rocks. Blue eyes whizzed around in her sockets like my brother when he had had too much Coke. The coffee-tainted dress looked spectacular, and if she spilt some coffee, she would only feel a warm, tingling sensation. Black jewellery engulfed her neck and hands, almost shadows. Navy blue stockings clung tightly to her long, yet ever so skinny legs. This was my mother getting ready for her first day at her new job.

# data[].attributes.body
He is staring at me. Blue eyes. White hair. Fair skin. Strong arms. And an aura of strong power. He was like a god in disguise. Then he walks away. He strides strongly and stares with a blue light in his eyes. I know where he gets his nickname 'blue-eyes' from. I have heard tales that he is a dragon in disguise. He walks out of the room. I follow him out the door and into the school playground. I am just in time to see him march into the forest. I sneak in behind him and he walks quickly, turning a lot. He paces into the clearing, then turns into a dragon. He turns into a brilliant white dragon with amazing eyes of blue. It roars loudly, its shining white teeth glinting in the sunlight. The Blue-eyes white dragon then flies off, white wings flapping and mouth roaring.

# data[].attributes.headline
James The Watermoose In The Ocean - 3rd 

# data[].attributes.subject
James The Watermoose In The Ocean - 3rd 

# data[].attributes.body
The brown birds nest of hair, sits on his head waving when he moves. The awesomeness of looking at his face makes you want to faint with wonder. The handsomeness of his dark brown unforgiving eyes makes you want to grovel at his feet and do his chores. His hands are so clean and beautiful, that you would wonder how often he washed them.

(he awesome person I am describing is ME)

# data[].attributes.body
He walks, strides. He uses an unseen force to grab my attention. He sits down and eats chips. He looks at me and rudely blows a raspberry in my face.