{"id":1379,"date":"2026-05-11T17:38:24","date_gmt":"2026-05-11T17:38:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/?p=1379"},"modified":"2026-05-11T17:38:25","modified_gmt":"2026-05-11T17:38:25","slug":"my-little-neighbor-wouldnt-let-anyone-into-his-house-until-a-policeman-arrived-and-went-inside","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/?p=1379","title":{"rendered":"My little neighbor wouldn’t let anyone into his house until a policeman arrived and went inside."},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Iam 91 years old and had basically accepted that my life was going to end quietly, with no visitors, no calls, just me and the ticking of the clock, until a skinny 12-year-old boy with a skateboard moved next door and one night I heard him crying alone on his porch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am 91 years old, and for a long time I had the feeling that I had already died, only I hadn’t yet had the decency to lie down for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My husband left decades ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Birthdays consisted of me, a cupcake, and the television.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

My children moved out, started families, and gradually drifted apart. At first, there were visits. Then phone calls. Then text messages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Birthdays consisted of me, a cupcake, and the television. Holidays were frozen dinners and reruns. Most days, only the hall clock chimed and the house creaked as if trying to talk to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That’s the kind of loneliness that makes you feel transparent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Nobody ever called Jack.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Then Jack moved into the house next door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was twelve years old. Too big for his age in that lanky way, his cap always backwards, the skateboard glued to his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d see him at the door in the afternoons. He’d walk up and down the sidewalk. Practicing tricks. Falling. Getting back up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They called other children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Dinner’s ready!” or “Homework!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

His house remained dark most nights.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The doors opened. The porches lit up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nobody ever called Jack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His house remained dark most nights. There was no car in the driveway. No lights in the windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first, I told myself I wasn’t being nosy. I was just watching. That lie worked until the night I heard him crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was late. I woke up to a soft sound. It wasn’t the television. Or the pipes. It wasn’t a baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

There she was again. Muffled, broken sobs.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I held my breath and listened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There she was again. Muffled, broken sobs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I got up, put on my robe and slippers, and went to the window. I moved the curtain just enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack was sitting on the porch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

His shoulders were trembling.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He was wearing a t-shirt, even though it was cold. His knees were drawn up to his chest, wrapped around his arms. His cap was on the step beside him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His shoulders were trembling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was no light on the porch. No glimmer from inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before he could dissuade me, I opened the door and left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Jack?” I called softly. “Honey, are you okay?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Are you cold? Is your mother home?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He raised his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His face was covered in tears. He looked terrified, as if I’d caught him doing something illegal instead of sobbing his eyes out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m fine,” she said. Her voice broke. “I’m fine.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Are you cold? Is your mother home?” I took a small step closer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stared at me for a second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I didn’t sleep much after that.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Then he grabbed his cap, ran inside, and slammed the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sound echoed throughout the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stayed there, old and useless in my dressing gown, and shuffled back inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn’t sleep much after that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, I watched over his house as if it were my job.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

At seven o’clock, my stomach felt like a closed fist.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He usually went out on his skateboard after class.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That day, nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At four o’clock. At five o’clock. At six o’clock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dark porch. Motionless curtains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At seven o’clock, my stomach felt like a closed fist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Just say something so I know you’re okay.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I made a pie to keep my hands busy. An apple pie. The only thing I still know how to make without a recipe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When it cooled down, I took it to the door next door and knocked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Jack?” I called. “It’s Mrs. Doyle. I brought a cake.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I called again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

By morning, I had already made up my mind.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Honey, you don’t have to open the door,” I said. “Just say something so I know you’re okay.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No footsteps. No television. No “go away”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just a closed door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went home, put the cake on the table, and just stared at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I called a taxi and went to the police station.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

By morning, I had already made up my mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I called a taxi and went to the police station because I don’t drive anymore and, frankly, at ninety-one years old I shouldn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The receptionist appeared to be twelve years old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Ma’am, can I help you?” he asked, standing up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I hope so,” I said. “I’m worried about a boy on my street. I might be wrong. I’d like to be wrong. But if I’m right and I don’t say anything…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“I don’t see many adults around there.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He nodded and picked up a clipboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What’s your name?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Helen. I live in Maple.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“And the boy?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Jack. He’s twelve years old. He lives next door. I don’t see many adults around there.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“He did well to come.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I told him about the crying on the porch. The dark house. The unanswered door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn’t laugh or tell me I was exaggerating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He did well to come,” she said. His badge said LEWIS. “Let me call Officer Murray. He handles social controls.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few minutes later another officer came out. Older. Calm. The kind of man who makes you feel like things might turn out alright.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shook my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“But if something happens to that boy and I just sit there doing nothing…”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Helen? It’s Murray,” he said. “Tell me about Jack.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I did it. Again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He listened to me. He took notes. He didn’t interrupt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I finished, I wrung my hands in my lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know I’m just the old lady next door,” I said. “But what if something happens to that boy and I just sit there and do nothing…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“I’ll stop by this afternoon.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“You’re not ‘just’ nothing,” he said. “You’re someone who realized. That matters. I’ll stop by this afternoon. Would you like to be there?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” I said, without thinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Okay,” he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That afternoon, his car entered our street. He approached my door first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Are you ready?” he asked me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

After a moment, the door opened a little.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Not even a little,” I said. “But let’s go.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We went to Jack’s house together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murray knocked on the door. Firmly, not aggressively.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a moment, the door opened a crack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw an eye, a piece of his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Is your mother home?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Jack?” Murray said. “Hi, I’m Officer Murray. Your neighbor was worried.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack’s gaze jumped towards me, and then back again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Is your mother home?” Murray asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He’s working,” Jack said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Okay,” Murray said. “Do you mind if I come in and we talk for a moment? You’re not in any trouble. I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Do you have an order?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Jack narrowed his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Do you have an order?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost sighed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murray’s mouth twitched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“There’s no order,” he said. “I didn’t come to arrest you. Just to check that you’re okay.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“The house is old.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Jack hesitated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, from somewhere inside the house, we heard a loud creaking sound. As if something heavy had broken or fallen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was startled. Murray stiffened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What was that?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The house is old,” Jack said quickly. “It does that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The place wasn’t good.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Jack,” Murray said, calmly but more firmly now, “please step back.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack’s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it moved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We went in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The place wasn’t good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Is anyone home?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

There was an old sofa. A wobbly table. A couple of boxes. No paintings. No lamps. No sign of adult life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Police!” Murray shouted. “Is anyone home?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The kitchen sink was full of dishes. The trash was overflowing. A pot sat on the stove with something burnt inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He checked the short hallway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

A mattress on the floor.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The bathroom. Empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bedroom. A mattress on the floor. A thin blanket. A pillow. A backpack and a skateboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murray returned and confronted Jack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How long has your mother been gone?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Have you been here alone for that long?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Jack stared at the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“For a while,” he murmured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How long is ‘a while’?” Murray insisted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack shifted and tugged at his sleeve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“One week,” he said. Then, hurriedly: “Or nine days.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Mom sends money when she can.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I put my hand to my mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Alone?” I said. “Have you been here alone this long?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack’s back stiffened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m fine,” she said. “I go to school. I cook. Mom sends money when she can. She had to help my grandparents. There wasn’t room for me. She said I’d be okay.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“You shouldn’t handle this alone.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He sounded like he was repeating something, without believing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m almost thirteen years old,” he added, as if that made him an adult.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murray’s voice softened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’re still a kid,” he said. “You shouldn’t be handling this alone.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack’s eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Please don’t take me.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Please don’t take me,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go live with strangers. I’m fine. Just… don’t get my mother in trouble. Please.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack turned towards me as if I had some power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Tell her,” he begged me. “Tell her I’m okay, Mrs. Doyle.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I approached, my knees complaining.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“You’re not okay.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“I think you’re brave,” I said. “But no, honey. You’re not okay. You’re scared and alone, and you’re pretending you’re not. That’s not right.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murray looked between us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Mrs. Doyle,” he said softly, “do you live alone?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” I said. “Only me. For a long time.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“If we get his mother’s permission and clear things up with Child Protective Services,” she said, “would you be willing to let Jack stay with you for now?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Would you want me there?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Of course.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack blinked rapidly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Would you want me there?” he asked. “I make a lot of noise. And I fall down a lot. And I forget things.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ve had a lot of silence and few falls,” I said. “I think we’ll manage.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murray smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Jack, nobody’s going to drag you out tonight.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Okay,” he said. “Jack, no one’s dragging you out tonight. I’m going to make some calls, talk to your mother, and do this properly. Is that alright?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The following week was filled with paperwork and phone calls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Child Protective Services came. They inspected my house. They spoke to Jack’s school.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“I thought it would be three days.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

They called her mother in Alabama, where she had gone to take care of her sick parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She cried so much through the loudspeaker that I could hear her breathing becoming labored.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I thought it would be three days,” she repeated. “Then Dad got worse. Then Mom relapsed. I kept thinking, ‘I’ll come back tomorrow.’ I know I messed up. But I didn’t know what else to do.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the end, they came to an agreement: Jack could stay with me, as long as his mother kept in touch and didn’t disappear again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

He moved into my guest room with his backpack.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He moved into my guest room with his backpack, his video game console, and his skateboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood at the door, uncomfortable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“So… what should I call her?” he asked. “Helen? Or…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You can call me whatever you like,” I told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked at her shoes and then looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

We established a routine.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Is it… weird to call her Grandma Helen?” she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

“It’s perfect,” I said. “I would like it very much.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We established a routine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was making breakfast. He pretended to hate oatmeal and scraped the bowl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Did you see this type of math?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He was going to school. I watched him through the window, like a clich\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would get home, throw my backpack on a chair, and raid my fridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We did our homework at the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Did you watch this kind of math?” he groaned once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No,” I told him. “We were just trading goats.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The house stopped sounding like a tomb.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He almost choked with laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We watched movies. He taught me about superheroes. I showed him black and white movies where people actually talked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I taught her how to make pie crust. She taught me how to use her tablet without breaking it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The house stopped sounding like a tomb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few weeks later, her mother returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“You can’t just disappear like that again.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He knocked on my door, his eyes swollen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack flew towards her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You can’t just disappear like that again,” he said, patting her shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know,” she cried. “I’m so sorry, darling. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We sat down at the table and talked. About her parents. About money. About being alone with too many people depending on you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I understood how desperation can distort judgment.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

We don’t excuse what he did. But I understood how desperation can distort judgment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After that, things weren’t perfect, but they were… better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes Jack slept at his house, sometimes at mine. Either way, most evenings he ended up at my table, complaining about homework and asking what was for dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother started saying, “Go ask Grandma Helen,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

He started carrying my shopping for me and scolding me for climbing on stools.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Years passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grew. His cap didn’t seem so silly anymore. His voice lowered. He started carrying my shopping and scolding me for climbing on stools.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Sit down, Grandma,” she would tell me. “You’re going to break.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would slap him on the arm and sit down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile, my body was giving me new complaints.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I went home, sat down at my old desk, and took out my will.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Then came the word: cancer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“At your age,” the doctor said gently, “we focus on comfort, not cure.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went home, sat down at my old desk, and took out my will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I still had my children’s names. Children who hadn’t walked through my door in years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\n

“You don’t have to do it.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Then I took a pen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I finished, everything I had\u2014small savings, jewelry, and this little house\u2014I had left to Jack and his mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The people who had been by my side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told his mother first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, crying. “Your family…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“But why us?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\n

“My family is the one knocking on my door. That’s you.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Later, I told Jack about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He remained very still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Why?” he asked. “I mean… thank you. But why us?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Because when I was alone and ready to disappear,” I said, “you sat on my couch, ate my spoiled oatmeal, and let me be your grandmother. You gave me a reason to wake up.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“You’re attached to me,” she said. “Even when you’re being bossy.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He hugged me so tight my ribs burst.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’re attached to me,” she said. “Even when you’re being bossy.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Fine,” I said. “Someone has to be.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don’t know how much time I have left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I know one thing:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I will not leave this world like a ghost in an empty house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

And this house will continue to be full of life long after I’m gone.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

When I’m gone, there will be a boy\u2014almost a man\u2014who remembers that an elderly neighbor came out one cold night and asked him if he was okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There will be a woman who knows that this house is hers now, not just on paper, but in memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There will be skateboard marks on the steps and pencil lines on the wall where we measured how tall Jack grew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And this house, where only the ticking of a clock used to resonate, will continue to be full of life long after I’m gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All because one night I heard a child crying and decided not to look away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Did this story remind you of anything in your own life? Feel free to share it in the Facebook comments.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Iam 91 years old and had basically accepted that my life was going to end quietly, with no visitors, no calls, just me and the ticking of… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1394,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1379","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1379","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1379"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1379\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1409,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1379\/revisions\/1409"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1394"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1379"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1379"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dailynewus.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1379"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}