# data[].attributes.body
Fighting against her howling wind I manage another step forward. She pushes back against my attempts to carry on, gripping my legs with a crushing force. Another step forces my lungs to take in the dust that plagues her world. My last good hand fights to grab the pillar that’s just in reach. Her sand claws its way back up my throat leaving scars in its wake and collapsing my body in on itself.

Keep going she urges, with the wind now attacking my eyes. My outstretched arm shakes under the struggle to pull myself forward another step. My last finger slips off my hand, the wind jumping at the chance to throw my body back. I find my face now firmly planted into the sand, dragging across my skin while I’m pushed farther back. My hands fruitlessly search to find grip in the sand.

Keep going, she urges again. “I’m all out of fingers.” I pout as if I’m a child. I lift my head, battling the tremors that imprison my limbs. I feel the muscles in my neck protrude in order to keep my chin above the ground. Try as I might I can’t act stoic any longer, the prickling of tears at the edges of my eyes egg me on. “I’ve never even felt the touch of a woman!” I cry, the ghosts of my fingers curling into fists. “You couldn’t at least give me that?!”

Keep going!  “I hate this place!” Sobs violently rattle my frame. “I hate this place!” I repeat, begging her to hear me.

Keep going! Keep going! She shouts in unison with my continued screams, creating a chorus of conflicting chants.

“I hate this-” my last scream is cut off with another sob when I yet again realize she can hear me clear as day.

The tears work to clean the sand from my eyes, and I regret not indulging them sooner. Get. Up. Keep going! “I wish you would put those whispers away-” My voice breaks on the last word, sniffles crawling up my nose.

The tension in my neck gives out rewarding me with a mouthful of sand. “Why? Why? Why? Why?” The sand that is glued to my cheeks with tears, now tumbles from the stretch of my mouth. “What do you want from me?” Years ago my blubbering would have devastated my arrogant makeup, but now I’m beyond the point of caring. It didn’t matter anymore.

Keep going! She answers predictably.

“I can’t!”

Keep going! She doesn’t believe me.

“I can’t! I can’t do it anymore!”

She’s silent for a blissful ten minutes. The wind makes my body feel like static as I feel the fight seeping from my skin.

By the time I hear her again my face has returned to the sand, denting my cheeks with an array of tiny holes. Get up. I’m not sure I could answer her even if I tried. You have to get up. It’s comforting to hear her so desperate in a way I have never before. You have to keep going. I huff in what’s almost amusement, blowing sand up my nose.

You don’t get to give up. Get. Up. her tone sours on the word ‘you’. I need you to get up.

Sinking my forehead deeper into the ground, a slow breath slips through my lips. I don’t think I can get up. I don’t think I should anymore. I don’t want to keep going. Not anymore.

I don’t think my voice can be deciphered through the sand that has gathered in my mouth, despite that, with a sense of finality I tell her, “I give up.”

GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP.  GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP. GET. UP.

# data[].attributes.body
When I walked into my apartment that evening, I noticed something strange in the living room, something different that usually isn't there. The figure was quite mysterious, a shape that looked similar to a cone, but much more round. It was unfamiliar to me, I should be afraid of the unfamiliar, right? I wasn't. It made no sound at all, the only thing that I could hear was the radiator. I found it strange that whatever it was, it hadn't even turned on the television. I supposed that it likely was under the impression that I didn't have all of the streaming subscriptions that I did. Whatever it was, I was sure it had a reason to be there, so I wasn't worried. When I turned the light on in the living room, I was able to make out what the mysterious figure was, it was a boa constrictor coiled on my living room sofa. I felt relieved that it was only a boa constrictor, because if it was a spider I might have just sat on it, and that wouldn't have been a very nice experience for the spider now would it? Tired from a long day at the office, I sat on the couch as a normally would. The boa constrictor was sitting on the cushion that I usually sit on; it was soft and worn from usage so I couldn't blame it for its choice to sit there rather than on the cushion that I ended up sitting on. Out of respect for my guest, I did in fact sit on the opposite cushion. It was something I wasn't used to, it was tough and lacked the sinking feeling of the other cushion. The 🤬 indent that I was so used to wasn't present, but I suppose it was worth it for the comfort of the guest was it not? I had never seen, nor had I touched a boa constrictor before. Despite the fact that my grandparents live in Arizona, and I vacationed there often, I had never seen a single snake that was so famous for being there, I began to doubt that they even existed. Kidding. I didn't reach out to the boa constrictor, as I feared that I would invade its personal space.

I don't travel to Arizona anymore, it was much too hot for me there. I remember traveling there as a child during my summers off from school. It would reach over one hundred degrees fahrenheit. The sun felt like it was always shining, it beat down on my skin violently like I was in a fist fight with the sun, and losing. When it got that hot I would go into the house, the air conditioner would be on almost all the time so it didn't take long for me to cool down. The air smelled fresher inside the house than outside, and I felt much safer in there. In the house I would sit down on the sofa, the television was always on. It was unfortunate that I would have to sit on the opposite cushion than I was used to, it was tough and lacked the sinking feeling of the other cushion. The 🤬 indent that I was so used to wasn't present, but I suppose it was worth it for the comfort of the guest was it not? My grandparents would always make fun of me for sitting on the same cushion every day, they obviously didn't understand how to properly treat a guest.

I looked back to the sofa that I was sitting on in my apartment. I had spent so much time reminiscing about the past, that it was almost time for bed. There was no bed in my apartment, so I slept on the couch. That was okay for me, because the couch was much more comfortable than a bed could ever be. The sofa was soft, and allowed me to sink into it with ease. The 🤬 indent on my favorite cushion made it easy to find the perfect resting spot every night. I arose from the tough cushion to and grabbed my nightly medicine. The pill bottle shaked fairly loudly when I picked it up, because I had just refilled it the day prior, but luckily it didn't wake the boa constrictor. I took my pill, and waited for a brief period of time before returning to the couch and sitting on my favorite cushion. I sat in the 🤬 indent, and all faded to black as I rested for the night.

# data[].attributes.body
The nurse left work at five o’clock.

The solemnity commenced by the pattering rain and wind gusts slicing through the night air matched the inclement weather of his mood. Despite bowing his head as a funeral celebrant would to shield himself from such an unpleasantry, raindrops beaded his eyelashes like tears and slicked back his hair like tar oil. It seemed that he was trudging through a sea of this same tar oil, his legs combatting an invisible force that stubbornly resisted his efforts to reach the safety haven of his car.

One of thirty-year-old Nurse Phil Filbrandt’s patients had died what felt like just moments before he promptly clocked out at the strike of 5:00pm. At 12:03pm on that otherwise unextraordinary Tuesday, Phil’s very first patient to ever die had done just that.

Phil couldn’t recall the patient’s name. He didn’t bother to muddle over this seemingly insignificant detail for more than a moment. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter; this patient wouldn’t be the first, nor the last.

From what the doctors and other nurses and other professional non-detectives could draw from an ominous disarray of clues found in the patient’s coat pockets, car, and conveniently passcode-free phone, they pieced together that the man had been the victim of a spontaneous heart attack. Otherwise, he’d been in perfectly good condition and incredibly healthy. Everyone in the hospital wanted to know specifically “Why?”. Why a heart attack? Why in his car? Why such a healthy, run-of-the-mill, fairly young man? Phil had briefly wondered who this unlucky stranger was, but again, that was merely a passing thought that didn’t stick. He didn’t dwell on it for more than a second.

Phil couldn’t even recall the patient’s face; it’d been obscured by the heat and adrenaline of the moment. Why couldn’t he remember? He shuddered, feeling peculiarly faint.

He finally reached his driver side door, thank god, and fell into the seat with a great heave, carelessly casting his bags into the neighboring passenger seat. Every motion and move he made felt robotic and premeditated, which calmed him as much as it unnerved him. With a great huff, Phil shoved his key into the ignition and turned it.

Only then did he happen to glance up at the rearview mirror, and the sight he beheld made him choke and swallow his own heart as he convulsed.

# data[].attributes.headline
A stench came from under my bed. It smelled like garbage. I was interested into what it was so I leaned over the edge of my bed frame. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness under my bed, a massive beast with brown fur and bright yellow eyes, was looking right back at me. My head snapped back up and I hopped back into my bed and under the covers. Panting, I hear a loud growl followed by some heavy breathing. I did not know what to do, so quickly thinking I grabbed the water bottle off my bed side table and through it under my bed. But the bottle sounded like it just hit the wall. Stupidly I went to look under my bed one last time to see if the monster was still there. As my head lowered, CRUNCH!!! … 

# data[].attributes.subject
A stench came from under my bed. It smelled like garbage. I was interested into what it was so I leaned over the edge of my bed frame. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness under my bed, a massive beast with brown fur and bright yellow eyes, was looking right back at me. My head snapped back up and I hopped back into my bed and under the covers. Panting, I hear a loud growl followed by some heavy breathing. I did not know what to do, so quickly thinking I grabbed the water bottle off my bed side table and through it under my bed. But the bottle sounded like it just hit the wall. Stupidly I went to look under my bed one last time to see if the monster was still there. As my head lowered, CRUNCH!!! … 

# data[].attributes.headline
Every day longing for a response, she hopes that her one true love will finally realize his grave mistake in not taking her back as she sits lonely and solemn in her room practically breakingdown at just the thought of feeling his touch again. The more she thinks, the more unstable she becomes as the hope leaves her mind, and her soul is engulfed in her own loneliness and longing to get him back, losing her mind at the thought of him, the grief that overcame her when he sent that final text goodbye. Due to her own instability with her emotions, jealousy started to seep into her mind and once she was overcome with anger and disgust, not even able to acknowledge that loneliness she had once felt and when or how it had turned into this rage. All of that pain, that rage, lead her to make the decision she had been thinking about since the beginning, that text she was waiting for needed no reply, she was going to drive one out of him using her most vile tactics she was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist and finally, she would have him back, her love, her everything. He had always said her decisions drive him away and thats exactly what this one did, and maybe there was too much underlying anger and sadness and disgust hinted throughout the paragraph, maybe her attempt to pull him toward her made him resist even further, maybe those tactics of guilt tripping and playing the victim weren't enough for him, so she had to reach for more. She needed him and he knew, yet he chose to do nothing, no care in the world, offended by the shots at his new relationship knowing they were last attempts to get him back and as he read further and further into the sea of words before him he paused and saw a glimpse of the girl she once was, the perfect girl before he ruined her, the happy girl before his words and his love turned her into that victim, into that jealous whining girlfriend who drove him away, and it was then that he realized that all of this obsession and longing was his own doing and maybe he secretly, even beyond his denial, longed for her as well.

# data[].attributes.subject
Every day longing for a response, she hopes that her one true love will finally realize his grave mistake in not taking her back as she sits lonely and solemn in her room practically breakingdown at just the thought of feeling his touch again. The more she thinks, the more unstable she becomes as the hope leaves her mind, and her soul is engulfed in her own loneliness and longing to get him back, losing her mind at the thought of him, the grief that overcame her when he sent that final text goodbye. Due to her own instability with her emotions, jealousy started to seep into her mind and once she was overcome with anger and disgust, not even able to acknowledge that loneliness she had once felt and when or how it had turned into this rage. All of that pain, that rage, lead her to make the decision she had been thinking about since the beginning, that text she was waiting for needed no reply, she was going to drive one out of him using her most vile tactics she was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist and finally, she would have him back, her love, her everything. He had always said her decisions drive him away and thats exactly what this one did, and maybe there was too much underlying anger and sadness and disgust hinted throughout the paragraph, maybe her attempt to pull him toward her made him resist even further, maybe those tactics of guilt tripping and playing the victim weren't enough for him, so she had to reach for more. She needed him and he knew, yet he chose to do nothing, no care in the world, offended by the shots at his new relationship knowing they were last attempts to get him back and as he read further and further into the sea of words before him he paused and saw a glimpse of the girl she once was, the perfect girl before he ruined her, the happy girl before his words and his love turned her into that victim, into that jealous whining girlfriend who drove him away, and it was then that he realized that all of this obsession and longing was his own doing and maybe he secretly, even beyond his denial, longed for her as well.

# data[].attributes.body
As the city burned, my mind was focused not on my family, or my friends, or even really the city itself, but on Him, the golden God Himself. He stood there, surrounded by warriors clad in golden armor, confronting the man who saw Him as family, the one who called Him father and God. The son, The Bearer of the Word and the ruler of our holy city, was surrounded by crimson soldiers of his own, though instead of fighting back, all of them, including himself, fell to their knees, and the crimson warriors repeated back to the Word Bearer what the Golden God said: that they were wrong to worship Him, and that this is the proper repentance for their transgressions. This image had instilled a great hatred within me, I didn’t believe a blasphemous word that the once righteous holy men had begun to preach. The crimson sinners then faced the warriors who destroyed our holy city, the cobalt destroyers led by a man as tall as The Word Bearer returned, who chastised the once-believers for their ways. This scene, it should have broken me, seeing the sinners abandon their beliefs, the cobalt tyrants destroying what was holy, and our God, commanding all this, but it didn’t, all it did was assure me of my beliefs and added to them: God is real, and he hates us.

# data[].attributes.body
I honestly never knew friends could break your heart too

All i can think about is telling you everything immediately after it happened

And facetiming you because i missed you

I missed you then and i miss you now

I miss how lighter and easier friendship was

And i missed the way we could laugh about something so dumb for 2 hours straight

I miss when you cared because honestly ever since our friendship ended

You haven't given me a second thought

My thoughts immediately relate back to you

And all the times we spent together

But yours consists of new friends that you’ve replaced me with

I wish i could replace you too

But there's no way to replace the hours we spent together

And the times you’ve seen me sob over the boys who shattered my heart

When you sat there and told me I never deserved it

I never thought the next person would be you.