{"id":136359,"date":"2026-11-05T00:03:47","date_gmt":"2026-11-05T00:03:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/?p=136359"},"modified":"2026-11-05T00:03:47","modified_gmt":"2026-11-05T00:03:47","slug":"my-home-burned-down-and-my-closest-friend-of-28-years-promised-to-help-me-rebuild-she-handed-me-just-1200-from-the-donations-she-had-collected-claiming-that-was-everything-but-when-i-disc-15","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/?p=136359","title":{"rendered":"MY HOME BURNED DOWN, AND MY FRIEND VOLUNTEERED TO COLLECT DONATIONS SO I COULD START AGAIN\u2014SHE GAVE ME $1,200, HID THE OTHER $17,800, AND TOLD EVERYONE SHE HAD DONE EVERYTHING SHE COULD, BUT THE CHURCH’S FINANCIAL RECORDS EXPOSED HER LIE"},"content":{"rendered":"

MY HOME BURNED DOWN, AND MY CLOSEST FRIEND OF 28 YEARS PROMISED TO HELP ME REBUILD\u2014SHE HANDED ME JUST $1,200 FROM THE DONATIONS SHE HAD COLLECTED, CLAIMING THAT WAS EVERYTHING, BUT WHEN I DISCOVERED THE REAL TOTAL WAS $19,000, I CONFRONTED HER IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CHURCH AND ASKED WHERE THE MISSING $17,800 HAD GONE<\/strong><\/p>\n

The night my house burned down, I lost almost everything I had spent a lifetime building.<\/p>\n

I was sixty-three years old. My name was Margaret Ellis, and for thirty-six years, I had lived in a little white house on Maple Street with my husband, Robert.<\/p>\n

Robert had died five years earlier, but his presence was still everywhere.<\/p>\n

His favorite armchair sat beside the living-room window. His old fishing photographs hung above the fireplace. In the kitchen, a wooden clock he had made for me during our tenth wedding anniversary still ticked every hour.<\/p>\n

That night, an electrical fault started a fire behind the kitchen wall.<\/p>\n

I woke up coughing.<\/p>\n

At first, I thought someone had left something burning on the stove. Then I saw orange light flickering beneath the kitchen door.<\/p>\n

I ran toward the hallway, but smoke had already filled the ceiling.<\/p>\n

I grabbed my handbag, my coat, and the small photograph of Robert that stood beside my bed.<\/p>\n

By the time I reached the front yard, flames were coming through the roof.<\/p>\n

I stood barefoot on the pavement, watching firefighters struggle to save a house that had been my home for more than half my life.<\/p>\n

A neighbor wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.<\/p>\n

Someone brought me a cup of water.<\/p>\n

But the person who stayed closest was my best friend, Linda Parker.<\/p>\n

Linda and I had been friends for twenty-eight years.<\/p>\n

We met when our children attended the same elementary school. We had celebrated birthdays together, attended church events, exchanged Christmas gifts, and supported each other through marriages, illnesses, and funerals.<\/p>\n

When Robert died, Linda had sat beside me for hours.<\/p>\n

She had told me I would never have to face life alone.<\/p>\n

That night, she repeated those words.<\/p>\n

“Margaret, listen to me. You are not alone. We are going to help you get through this.”<\/p>\n

I began crying.<\/p>\n

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”<\/p>\n

“You’re staying with me if you need to. And I’ll speak to everyone at church tomorrow. We’ll organize a collection. People will help.”<\/p>\n

I held her hand.<\/p>\n

“Thank you, Linda. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”<\/p>\n

She hugged me tightly.<\/p>\n

At that moment, I believed every word she said.<\/p>\n

The following morning, I was taken to a temporary apartment arranged through a local emergency assistance organization.<\/p>\n

I had one small suitcase of donated clothes and a plastic bag containing my medication.<\/p>\n

The rest of my belongings had been destroyed.<\/p>\n

Linda visited that afternoon with groceries, toiletries, and a notebook.<\/p>\n

“I’ve already spoken to the pastor,” she said. “Everyone wants to contribute. We’re going to organize a special donation campaign for you.”<\/p>\n

I was overwhelmed.<\/p>\n

“Please don’t let anyone feel obligated.”<\/p>\n

“Don’t worry about that. People want to help.”<\/p>\n

She volunteered to coordinate everything.<\/p>\n

She said she would collect cash, receive bank transfers, keep records, and arrange for the money to be delivered to me.<\/p>\n

I trusted her completely.<\/p>\n

Over the next several days, Linda became the face of the campaign.<\/p>\n

She posted updates in the church group, spoke with local businesses, and encouraged people to contribute.<\/p>\n

Whenever I called, she sounded busy.<\/p>\n

“Margaret, people are being incredibly generous.”<\/p>\n

“That’s wonderful.”<\/p>\n

“Don’t worry about the arrangements. I’m handling everything.”<\/p>\n

I thanked her repeatedly.<\/p>\n

I never asked for a detailed report.<\/p>\n

I thought friendship meant trust.<\/p>\n

About a week after the fire, Linda arrived at my apartment carrying a white envelope.<\/p>\n

She sat across from me at the small kitchen table.<\/p>\n

“I’ve brought you the donations,” she announced.<\/p>\n

I opened the envelope.<\/p>\n

Inside were twelve hundred dollars.<\/p>\n

I counted the money twice.<\/p>\n

“Is this everything?”<\/p>\n

Linda nodded.<\/p>\n

“That’s everything collected so far. Some people promised to donate, but they haven’t sent anything.”<\/p>\n

I looked at the money.<\/p>\n

Twelve hundred dollars was helpful, but it would not go far toward replacing what I had lost.<\/p>\n

Still, I didn’t want to sound ungrateful.<\/p>\n

“That’s very kind of everyone. Please thank them for me.”<\/p>\n

Linda squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n

“Of course. You deserve every bit of help.”<\/p>\n

Then she left.<\/p>\n

I placed the envelope in a drawer and tried to focus on finding somewhere permanent to live.<\/p>\n

Three days later, I went to the pharmacy to collect my prescription.<\/p>\n

On the way back, I stopped at a small caf\u00e9 near the church.<\/p>\n

An elderly church member named Patricia was sitting by the window.<\/p>\n

When she saw me, she waved.<\/p>\n

“Margaret! Come sit with me.”<\/p>\n

I smiled and joined her.<\/p>\n

She asked how I was managing, whether I had found a place to stay, and whether the insurance company had contacted me.<\/p>\n

Then she said something that made my heart stop.<\/p>\n

“That nineteen thousand dollars the church raised must be giving you some relief.”<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

“Nineteen thousand?”<\/p>\n

Patricia looked confused.<\/p>\n

“Yes. Didn’t Linda tell you? We were so proud of everyone. The final amount was nineteen thousand dollars.”<\/p>\n

I slowly put down my coffee.<\/p>\n

“Patricia, I received twelve hundred dollars.”<\/p>\n

Her expression changed.<\/p>\n

“What?”<\/p>\n

“Linda told me that was everything.”<\/p>\n

Patricia reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded newspaper.<\/p>\n

“I saw the article yesterday. Look.”<\/p>\n

She placed it in front of me.<\/p>\n

There was a photograph of Linda standing beside the church donation table, smiling while holding a large envelope.<\/p>\n

The headline read:<\/p>\n

COMMUNITY RAISES $19,000 TO HELP LOCAL WOMAN AFTER DEVASTATING HOUSE FIRE<\/strong><\/p>\n

The article explained that the church and several local businesses had joined together to collect nineteen thousand dollars for a longtime member who had lost her home.<\/p>\n

At the bottom was a sentence thanking Linda Parker for coordinating the campaign.<\/p>\n

I read the article again.<\/p>\n

Then I read it a third time.<\/p>\n

My hands were shaking.<\/p>\n

“Patricia, are you certain this was the amount collected?”<\/p>\n

She nodded.<\/p>\n

“I personally donated five hundred dollars. My husband and I saw the total announced at church.”<\/p>\n

I looked at Linda’s photograph.<\/p>\n

The woman smiling from the newspaper was the same woman who had handed me twelve hundred dollars and told me that was everything.<\/p>\n

I felt something inside me break.<\/p>\n

I didn’t want to believe it.<\/p>\n

Perhaps the money was being held by the church.<\/p>\n

Perhaps there were expenses.<\/p>\n

Perhaps there had been some misunderstanding.<\/p>\n

I wanted an explanation that didn’t involve betrayal.<\/p>\n

But I knew I needed to find out.<\/p>\n

That afternoon, I called the church treasurer, George Miller.<\/p>\n

George was a retired accountant who had served on the church finance committee for fifteen years.<\/p>\n

I explained what Patricia had told me.<\/p>\n

There was a long silence.<\/p>\n

Then he said, “Margaret, I think we need to meet.”<\/p>\n

We met the following morning in his office.<\/p>\n

He brought a folder containing donation records, bank statements, and copies of the campaign announcements.<\/p>\n

He showed me the total collected.<\/p>\n

Nineteen thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

He showed me the amount transferred from the donation account.<\/p>\n

Nineteen thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

Then he showed me the record of the payment Linda had reported making to me.<\/p>\n

Twelve hundred dollars.<\/p>\n

I stared at the figures.<\/p>\n

“Where is the rest?”<\/p>\n

George took off his glasses.<\/p>\n

“That’s what we are trying to establish.”<\/p>\n

He explained that Linda had been given permission to coordinate the campaign, communicate with donors, and arrange the collection.<\/p>\n

She had not been given permission to keep any of the money or decide that I should receive only a portion.<\/p>\n

The committee had authorized the full amount to help me recover from the fire.<\/p>\n

But the bank records showed several transfers into an account controlled by Linda.<\/p>\n

The amounts were not supported by legitimate receipts.<\/p>\n

George leaned forward.<\/p>\n

“Margaret, the difference is seventeen thousand eight hundred dollars.”<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n

Then I asked, “Did she take it?”<\/p>\n

George was careful with his words.<\/p>\n

“We have evidence that the money was transferred into her account. We have asked her to explain the transactions. She hasn’t provided a satisfactory accounting.”<\/p>\n

I looked down at the papers.<\/p>\n

“I trusted her with everything.”<\/p>\n

George placed a hand on the folder.<\/p>\n

“We’re going to investigate this properly. You won’t be left to handle it alone.”<\/p>\n

Over the next two days, the church finance committee contacted the bank, reviewed the transaction records, and requested written explanations from Linda.<\/p>\n

Her answers changed each time.<\/p>\n

First, she claimed the missing money had been used for administrative costs.<\/p>\n

When the committee requested receipts, she said she had paid several emergency bills for me.<\/p>\n

When asked which bills, she could not provide details.<\/p>\n

Then she claimed she had temporarily borrowed some of the money and planned to return it.<\/p>\n

But she had never told me.<\/p>\n

She had never asked permission.<\/p>\n

And she had never given me a single reason to believe the money was missing.<\/p>\n

The church leadership scheduled a meeting for Sunday.<\/p>\n

I was invited.<\/p>\n

At first, I considered staying home.<\/p>\n

I had already endured enough embarrassment. I didn’t want to stand in front of people and discuss money when I was still trying to rebuild my life.<\/p>\n

But then I thought about the people who had donated.<\/p>\n

Patricia had given five hundred dollars.<\/p>\n

A young couple had organized a bake sale.<\/p>\n

A retired teacher had donated part of her pension.<\/p>\n

A local grocery store had contributed a thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

They had all given because they believed their money would help me.<\/p>\n

They deserved the truth.<\/p>\n

So I decided to attend.<\/p>\n

Sunday morning arrived.<\/p>\n

The church hall was full.<\/p>\n

People greeted me warmly. Several asked how I was doing. One woman hugged me and said she hoped the donations had helped me get back on my feet.<\/p>\n

I smiled politely.<\/p>\n

Linda was sitting near the front.<\/p>\n

She wore a beautiful blue dress and a silver necklace. She looked relaxed and cheerful.<\/p>\n

When she saw me, she waved.<\/p>\n

I nodded but didn’t approach her.<\/p>\n

The service continued as usual.<\/p>\n

Afterward, the pastor stepped to the microphone.<\/p>\n

“Before we close, we want to recognize someone who has shown extraordinary kindness. Linda Parker worked tirelessly to organize the donation campaign for Margaret after the tragic fire.”<\/p>\n

People began applauding.<\/p>\n

The pastor continued.<\/p>\n

“Thanks to her efforts, our community raised nineteen thousand dollars. Linda, please stand.”<\/p>\n

Linda stood.<\/p>\n

She placed a hand over her heart.<\/p>\n

“Thank you,” she said modestly. “I only did what any friend would do. Margaret has been like family to me for nearly three decades.”<\/p>\n

The applause grew louder.<\/p>\n

I sat near the back, holding the folded newspaper.<\/p>\n

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.<\/p>\n

For twenty-eight years, I had called Linda my closest friend.<\/p>\n

Now she was standing before everyone, accepting praise for money I had never received.<\/p>\n

I slowly stood up.<\/p>\n

The applause faded.<\/p>\n

I walked toward the front, holding the newspaper in both hands.<\/p>\n

The pastor noticed me.<\/p>\n

“Margaret, would you like to say something?”<\/p>\n

“Yes, please.”<\/p>\n

I turned toward the congregation.<\/p>\n

“First, I want to thank every person who donated. I will never forget your kindness. I know many of you gave money you could hardly spare, and I am deeply grateful.”<\/p>\n

People nodded.<\/p>\n

I unfolded the newspaper.<\/p>\n

“But I have a question before we thank Linda for her generosity.”<\/p>\n

I turned toward her.<\/p>\n

“Linda, when you came to my apartment, you gave me twelve hundred dollars and told me that was everything collected.”<\/p>\n

Her smile disappeared.<\/p>\n

I held up the newspaper.<\/p>\n

“This article says nineteen thousand dollars was raised.”<\/p>\n

The room became completely silent.<\/p>\n

I looked directly at her.<\/p>\n

“Before you thank her, shouldn’t we find out where the remaining seventeen thousand eight hundred dollars went?”<\/p>\n

For several seconds, nobody moved.<\/p>\n

Linda’s face turned pale.<\/p>\n

“Margaret, please don’t do this here.”<\/p>\n

I kept my voice steady.<\/p>\n

“Then where should I ask? You collected the money publicly. You accepted public praise. And you told me privately that almost all of it didn’t exist.”<\/p>\n

Linda stood.<\/p>\n

“That’s not what happened.”<\/p>\n

The pastor raised his hand.<\/p>\n

“Let’s allow the treasurer to explain the records.”<\/p>\n

George walked to the front carrying his folder.<\/p>\n

He spoke clearly.<\/p>\n

“The official donation total was nineteen thousand dollars. The amount delivered to Margaret was twelve hundred dollars. We have identified transfers totaling seventeen thousand eight hundred dollars that have not been supported by authorized expenses or valid receipts.”<\/p>\n

A woman in the second row gasped.<\/p>\n

Someone whispered, “That’s impossible.”<\/p>\n

George continued.<\/p>\n

“The finance committee has requested a full accounting. We have not received a satisfactory explanation.”<\/p>\n

Linda began shaking her head.<\/p>\n

“I worked so hard on this campaign. Nobody understands how much time I spent collecting those donations.”<\/p>\n

George replied calmly.<\/p>\n

“We appreciate the time you volunteered. But the money was donated for Margaret. It was not yours to use.”<\/p>\n

Linda turned toward me.<\/p>\n

“Margaret, you know me. You know I would never hurt you.”<\/p>\n

I looked at the woman I had known for twenty-eight years.<\/p>\n

“I thought I knew you.”<\/p>\n

She started crying.<\/p>\n

“I had some financial problems. I was going to put the money back.”<\/p>\n

The room remained silent.<\/p>\n

I asked, “Then why did you tell me that only twelve hundred dollars had been collected?”<\/p>\n

She looked down.<\/p>\n

“Because I didn’t know how to explain it.”<\/p>\n

“You could have told me the truth.”<\/p>\n

“I was afraid.”<\/p>\n

I felt tears gathering in my eyes.<\/p>\n

“So was I, Linda. I was afraid when my house burned. I was afraid when I had nowhere to sleep. I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough money to replace my belongings. But I never imagined that the person I trusted most would make that fear worse.”<\/p>\n

She covered her face.<\/p>\n

Then she said something that hurt more than anything else.<\/p>\n

“I thought you would be all right with twelve hundred. You had insurance.”<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

“My insurance claim hadn’t even been settled. You knew that.”<\/p>\n

She didn’t answer.<\/p>\n

The pastor stepped forward and announced that the church would refer the matter to the appropriate authorities and cooperate with the investigation.<\/p>\n

Linda left the hall before the meeting ended.<\/p>\n

Nobody applauded as she walked away.<\/p>\n

I returned to my seat.<\/p>\n

My hands were trembling, and I felt exhausted.<\/p>\n

Patricia came over and sat beside me.<\/p>\n

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.<\/p>\n

I shook my head.<\/p>\n

“Thank you for telling me.”<\/p>\n

She squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n

“You shouldn’t have had to discover it this way.”<\/p>\n

That afternoon, I went home to my temporary apartment and cried.<\/p>\n

Not because of the money.<\/p>\n

Not even because of the humiliation.<\/p>\n

I cried because I had lost a friend.<\/p>\n

For twenty-eight years, Linda had been part of my life. I knew her birthday, her favorite meals, the names of her grandchildren, and the stories she told about her childhood.<\/p>\n

I had stood beside her when her husband underwent surgery.<\/p>\n

I had helped her clean her house after a storm.<\/p>\n

I had spent Christmas evenings with her family.<\/p>\n

I never imagined our friendship would end over money she had taken from people who wanted to help me.<\/p>\n

The investigation continued for several weeks.<\/p>\n

The church provided the bank records to the authorities.<\/p>\n

Linda eventually admitted that she had transferred much of the donation money into her personal account and used it to pay overdue credit cards, household expenses, and other personal debts.<\/p>\n

She claimed she had intended to replace the money before anyone discovered what she had done.<\/p>\n

But the records showed that she had continued spending it.<\/p>\n

The church recovered part of the funds from the remaining balance in her account. The rest was addressed through a formal repayment agreement and the legal process.<\/p>\n

The church also changed its donation procedures.<\/p>\n

No single volunteer would ever again control an entire relief fund.<\/p>\n

All contributions would be recorded, deposited into an official account, and distributed with written approval from multiple committee members.<\/p>\n

The pastor personally apologized to me.<\/p>\n

“We trusted the wrong person with too much responsibility,” he said.<\/p>\n

I replied, “The people who donated were not wrong to be generous. They should never feel ashamed of helping someone.”<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

“You’re right.”<\/p>\n

Eventually, I received the full support that had been intended for me, including the recovered funds and the remaining amounts arranged through the repayment process.<\/p>\n

It helped me secure a modest home.<\/p>\n

I didn’t try to rebuild the house I had lost. The insurance company had determined that the structure was beyond repair, and the cost of rebuilding was too high.<\/p>\n

Instead, I bought a small two-bedroom house on the other side of town.<\/p>\n

It had a little garden, a sunny kitchen, and a covered porch.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t the house Robert and I had shared.<\/p>\n

But it was mine.<\/p>\n

I painted the kitchen pale yellow, bought a comfortable armchair, and placed Robert’s photograph beside the window.<\/p>\n

The first night I slept there, I woke up several times.<\/p>\n

I listened for the sound of smoke alarms.<\/p>\n

I checked the kitchen.<\/p>\n

I looked outside to make sure everything was safe.<\/p>\n

Then I sat on the edge of my bed and whispered, “We’re home, Robert.”<\/p>\n

For the first time in months, I slept peacefully.<\/p>\n

Several weeks later, Linda sent me a letter.<\/p>\n

She wrote that she was sorry.<\/p>\n

She admitted she had been drowning in debt and had convinced herself that she could borrow the money temporarily.<\/p>\n

She said she had felt ashamed and frightened when the church began asking questions.<\/p>\n

She also admitted that accepting public praise while knowing what she had done was the worst decision of her life.<\/p>\n

At the end, she wrote:<\/p>\n

I know I may never deserve your friendship again, but I hope one day you can forgive me.<\/em><\/p>\n

I read the letter several times.<\/p>\n

Then I placed it in a drawer.<\/p>\n

I did not respond.<\/p>\n

I didn’t want revenge.<\/p>\n

I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life hating her.<\/p>\n

But I also knew that forgiveness was not the same as allowing someone back into a position where they could hurt me again.<\/p>\n

A year after the fire, the church held a small gathering to recognize the people who had helped families in need.<\/p>\n

I attended.<\/p>\n

The pastor asked whether I would share a few words.<\/p>\n

I stood before the congregation.<\/p>\n

“Last year, I lost my home in a fire. I thought losing the things inside it would be the hardest part. I was wrong.”<\/p>\n

I paused.<\/p>\n

“The hardest part was discovering that someone I had trusted for twenty-eight years had taken money that people donated to help me.”<\/p>\n

The room became quiet.<\/p>\n

“But I don’t want that betrayal to be the only thing I remember. I also remember the neighbor who gave me a blanket. The woman who brought me groceries. The retired couple who donated money they had saved. The people who checked on me when I had nowhere to go.”<\/p>\n

I looked around the room.<\/p>\n

“Those people reminded me that kindness is still real. One person’s dishonesty should never destroy our willingness to help others.”<\/p>\n

Patricia was sitting near the front.<\/p>\n

She smiled at me.<\/p>\n

I continued.<\/p>\n

“To everyone who donated, thank you. You gave me more than financial help. You gave me a chance to begin again.”<\/p>\n

The congregation applauded.<\/p>\n

This time, I didn’t feel ashamed.<\/p>\n

I felt grateful.<\/p>\n

After the gathering, a young woman approached me.<\/p>\n

She had recently lost her apartment in a flood and was struggling to accept help.<\/p>\n

“I’m afraid people will think I’m taking advantage of them,” she said.<\/p>\n

I held her hand.<\/p>\n

“People who genuinely want to help aren’t keeping score. Let them help you. And if someone is trusted with your support, don’t be afraid to ask for honest records.”<\/p>\n

She nodded.<\/p>\n

I smiled.<\/p>\n

“Needing help doesn’t make you weak. And asking where your help went doesn’t make you ungrateful.”<\/p>\n

That evening, I returned to my little house.<\/p>\n

The garden was quiet. The roses were beginning to bloom, and the kitchen smelled of fresh bread.<\/p>\n

I put the newspaper from that terrible Sunday into a box with the documents from the investigation.<\/p>\n

Not because I wanted to remember Linda.<\/p>\n

But because I wanted to remember the day I found my voice.<\/p>\n

For a long time, I had believed that being a good friend meant trusting without question, forgiving without boundaries, and staying silent to avoid embarrassing someone I loved.<\/p>\n

I no longer believed that.<\/p>\n

I could be generous without being foolish.<\/p>\n

I could forgive without restoring trust.<\/p>\n

And I could love people without allowing them to take advantage of me.<\/p>\n

Linda and I never became friends again.<\/p>\n

She eventually repaid the remaining amount under the agreement, but the money could not restore the years of trust she had destroyed.<\/p>\n

Sometimes people at church asked whether I regretted confronting her in front of everyone.<\/p>\n

I always gave the same answer.<\/p>\n

“No. The money was collected in public, the praise was given in public, and the truth deserved to be heard in public too.”<\/p>\n

I lost my home in a fire.<\/p>\n

I lost a friendship through betrayal.<\/p>\n

But I did not lose my dignity.<\/p>\n

And I learned something that I wish I had understood years earlier:<\/p>\n

The person who stands beside you during your darkest hour is not necessarily the person who deserves your trust. Sometimes, the real measure of friendship is what someone does when they believe you are too broken to notice what they have taken.<\/strong><\/p>\n

My house had burned to the ground.<\/p>\n

But the truth survived.<\/p>\n

And that was where my new life began.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

MY HOME BURNED DOWN, AND MY CLOSEST FRIEND OF 28 YEARS PROMISED TO HELP ME REBUILD\u2014SHE HANDED ME JUST $1,200 FROM THE DONATIONS SHE HAD COLLECTED, CLAIMING THAT WAS EVERYTHING, … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":136329,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-136359","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-best-best-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136359","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=136359"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136359\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":136360,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136359\/revisions\/136360"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/136329"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=136359"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=136359"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=136359"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}