Charles Pendelton
      © 2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 25

             The Hedgehogs are here

As I began to contemplate these new surroundings, I saw an astonishing thing. Every tree
that encompassed the area was suddenly very much alive, as if nature had gone on to evolve
without us. I wiped my eyes as an abandoned tot would have to find that upon waking, he had
been cast into a caricature from a whimsical book. A book I remember so vividly as a child.

                                 A book plainly titled: “Where the Wild Things Are.”

Intriguing faces extracted from the canvas of a Salvador Dalí painting
incorporated themselves within the plethora of leaves and bushes of
the surrounding area.

With arms reaching out from hyper-extended bony branches, they
seemed to be watching our every move with the utmost detail.

Their eyes were distinctly slanted, and while they truly had a
gremlin-like demeanor, every one of them appeared to be
smirking as if they knew something I didn’t, for they were
now infused
with knowledge that far surpassed the intellect of mortal man.

The very aspect of their appearance was thought to be constructed of
dream work, and only in this fictional realm of time could they be seen.
While their optical range of perception was far greater than anticipated,
they seemed to understand us better than we gave them credit for.

This scenario would serve as the catalyst to a wild evening
drenched in hallucinatory phantasmagoria.

A predetermined course was already planned and set by the hands of God
for the wayfarers to endure on their flight of imagination. Reality had now
become the illusion, and yet only for a brief while could one see the external
world through the eyes of a deranged poet. The alchemist’s wooden divining
rod had been magically transformed into a venomous serpent.

These ghastly figures, comprised of legions, were all but laughing at their
frightened host, who
stood before them in awe. There were so many species
of these mutant tree dwellers I could
not count, for they were innumerable.
And how flagrantly they mocked my character.

From my standpoint, they appeared to be laughing, but in the quietness of their
supreme diabolical nature, I could only perceive it as being purely demonic.

if to be waiting for the exact moment our blood would be spilled.

From the corner of their eyes, they observed me as if desperately trying to
undermine my stability. In this discriminating order, we were outnumbered

a billion to one.

It felt like we were being watched by a thousand hyenas,
just waiting for their opportunity to rush in and make the kill.

At close proximity, however, I, in turn, studied them.

Such fascinating creatures, I thought, as I gazed into the eye of another
An arid breeze helped motivate their limbs and allowed them to move
unrestrained. This
only proved to further exaggerate my predicament.

Full of life and charged with a fury that would never
they continued their assault on me with persecution.

Poised in a premeditative
stance, they snickered insidiously to one another,
and I cringed as to what their intentions might be.

I would not be brought down by these leviathans hiding in obscurity
of their own uncertainty. All they can do is peer out at me from lighted
shadows cast down to earth from a dusty sky. They could in no way
harm me, though they looked menacing enough.

To a complete novice standing in these
shoes, he or she might find that this
world had indeed become maniacally demented. Cloaked in an
attentive gaze
they beckon misfortune unto all, and with piercing eyes, they made us feel as
we were being slowly dissected.

Peter, however, could be found muddling sluggishly around in the dense
dark gloom of never-never, trying to figure out in that angry little mind
how anyone could have wronged him to such a degree.

Through the daunting, acrid darkness, a laconic breeze brushed past
me to vellicate the unearthly movements of these strange and unusual
creatures. A slow-moving current of air burst through their delicate
branches like a gentle wind chime, animating all perception while
focusing their full attention on trying to make me cower in fear.

In truth, those wicked eyes were beginning to haunt me.

                                                                         Pg 120

Like silent waves through gleaming steel on the downside of a razor-sharp
combat knife or the malevolent oculus of a freshly carved Halloween pumpkin,
with a growing stare so ferocious it cuts deep into the wafer-thin layer of the
child’s lucid imagination to torment him throughout the night.

The mind knows when something is clearly amiss.

When a simple object begins to have its own point of view, and you
know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the object gazing back at
you has its own little agenda, and the agenda is concerning you.

On delicate wings, what appeared to be a pterodactyl flew over the tree line directly
above and released a screech. I was not alarmed by this, for this is what I expected.
The sane entering the mind of the insane, only I did not expect it to be this real.

The cartoon strip was alive, and I was in the big leagues now.

Just remember one thing, if anything at all. . .
Be very careful, Captain; people get lost in here.

The demonesque forms all around me began chattering in a whisper tone,
and they were
talking about us. I was so keenly intent on hearing what
they had to say that I attempted to
listen to sounds above human levels.

Filtering in all the acoustics of my surroundings, I would
process and expel any
earthly movements, tree rustling, or obligatory remarks unrelated to or
negating my
cause. Under no circumstance whatsoever would I let on that I was doing this. 

In a state of continual disquietude, I was troubled, but with great temerity, and unyielding
perseverance, I was able to endure those groping eyes. Eyes that festered in a guise of
mischievousness, and went way beyond that of being satirical.

I then tried to imagine how an artist could paint such a surrealistic picture
before realizing it was humanly impossible.

Then it happened.

In the vespertine stillness of the cool night air, one spoke aloud while relaying the message
down the line that stretched well into this urban jungle. I heard one of them say to the other,
the hedgehogs are here. Then like a bolt of lightning through the forest, a brooding silence
fell over the area, and it seemed as if the whole of Staten Island had just gone into shock.

John wandered about studying points of interest and things only he could interpret
while Peter stood alone, unwavering in his seclusion like an enemy of the state
who had just returned from the war with missing legs and mental health issues.

Whilst I was now faced with this terrible and dreaded situation.

My mind was controlling my emotions. But my emotions were flooded
by so many partial thoughts I could do nothing, but watch myself fall
deeper and deeper into an abysmal void of profound recourse.

Like a base jumper without a chute,
or a cellist
in the middle of the Sahara Desert
playing a song for the sun...

We were losing.

My emotions were now on a steel burner and, apparently, running themselves.

Suddenly, I was shy.
Then it was time to fly.
Where would we even go?
Nowhere to even know.

Thoughts spawned like efflorescent flowers in an ephemeral field that covered
the mind, while a mystique was brewing from within to make the outside world
change into that it was not by giving it options it had not before.

Everything now appeared to have a very cynical motive.

Even the shadows produced by the soft lambency of far
away planets tried earnestly to learn our objective.

As thought patterns shifted and illusions became real,
emotions were nothing more than a light flickering in
the darkness of a long-abandoned movie theatre.

                                                                         Pg 121

One wrong move through the branches, and we could easily end
up with a very
serious laceration to the eye, but one mistake on
the tracks could prove
to be the end of everything.

I tried not to think of these things, because ‘these
we knew from the start. The dangers of the outside world.

Now, if we
were in the middle of an archery field, perhaps, or an intimidating part
of the city, for
that matter, that would be cause for some dire concern. But I wasn't
in any
direct danger from other people. I was in danger of misinterpreting things.

It's kind of hard to lose the common sense you're born with, so long as you don't
gloat on the absurdities for too long a period of time, (((and))) you have the
to divert your illuded perception when it begins to string you along.

I found it necessary to talk to myself for a while, just to remind myself where

I was, and how careful I needed to be. I would say things to myself like,“nice
and easy,” (or) “watch your step over there,” (or) “Just follow my lead.”

It's kind of like learning your ABCs, I thought.

Always Be Careful.

And in the end, you wind up laughing about it because everything is normal
again, but how funny was it when you were there and had to pray for the higher
power to save you? Don't think God isn't watching you at all hours of the day
and night because he is. Believe in him if it suits you, but one day you will
learn the truth... Only a fool goes off to war without first praying.

Everyone in a gang, hurting people. . . GET OUT.
Everyone addicted to drugs. . . GET STRAIGHTENED OUT.
Everyone doing things they shouldn't be doing. . . THINK.

What people cannot seem to grasp is that the world around them is nothing
more than a big recording device. The only way your recording can be erased
is by prayer. Even the most ruthless men pay homage to the Lord when
passing a church. Something as simple as pulling the wings off a butterfly
will eventually come down to something being destroyed in your universe.
And no, it will not be fair, and yes, you will cry. Of that, I can guarantee.
Whether it be the fire that tomorrow brings, or the life that the living gives.

So, pray now and pray earnestly that you may somehow escape a fate in which you have been
predestined to partake because the window that is open today will be closed tomorrow.

Everything you do in this life
is not without its consequences
if it is done for the wrong reasons.

But who listens to old people anyway? What do they know about
We are merely a reflection of yesterday's children trapped
inside a frail and withered dwelling place, waiting to perish.

Take it for what it's worth.

No, it wasn't the world around me that drew cause for any real
concern. It was the strange goings-on inside which caused me to
hesitate and wonder — the whys and woes of my own existence.

                                                                         Pg 122

In fact, it was all a play. A play that had gone terribly wrong.
Who is on the string now, my puppeteer? asked the marionette.

Trying to put my thoughts in order was like trying
to untangle an algorithm; it just couldn't be done.

I was not at any time filled with devils.
I was simply trying to solve an endless riddle.
Like waking up in the middle of the night, and
opening the bathroom door to find out you're on stage.

Oh, but such soliloquy from this dry mind
left gazing in a vacuous stare.

Where voices down in deep dark chambers utter secrets.
They've long upheld their end of the bargain.

This action, I found to be my own conscience gloating.

All time had stopped during this moment of reckoning, frozen still.
That split second of wonder. That discernible flaw which tends to
challenge one’s own rationality, had, in fact, become the emotion.

That splendid awe is now all that is left of the young man who
awoke too soon.
The mind becomes stuck in a threshold as the
pulls itself apart, leaving only you to fix the mess.

Like a blind man on the moon, I was trying
to put a puzzle together with no pieces.

There was no reason or reasoning to be found anymore.
I was, in fact, insane.

I heard passages being read from the so-called ‘book of truth’ by the bride
to her trainbearers, who were both dressed better than she was. Glowing
with the acumen of life’s rich reward, I watched as the book cascaded away
along rooftops of lakes and into the pristine shadow of the illuminated quarry.

Like a deceitful manifesto reclaimed by its rightful owner, I could see far
beyond that of knowing. Tossed out like a tattered old scarf was the much-
coveted book of truth, and no, it was no Bible; and now it has drowned.

                   Score one for the conjugal mind.

When the subconscious mind plays host unto itself, creating labyrinths
fear ladened with torment, it serves us wisely to observe and to note
all the
rules of the game,
for this game is unlike any other.

In this game, you are the pawn moving across the chessboard,
and every good player knows the pawn cannot win the game.

That twisted agenda is Satan's promise.

In this world, there is nothing worse, than of that. So, play the game
correctly and go home with a medal, or would you prefer the alternative? 

“What now?” said the man in the vortex, unable to see his legs.

At this point in time, I live without existing. I can feel my
body both grow and die at the same time. In this strange
acronym of life, I find we are living on the edge of reason.

I just had to open that box.
I had to see with my own two eyes what was inside it.
It seemed so harmless; it was only a little puzzle box.

But now it's so much more.

The real humdinger comes when you finally realize that instead of opening it,
it is in fact, opening you.

                                                                         Pg 123

I then began to think of the hippies and their love nests. (Communes)

Pinko freaks basking in the same sun as our young men going off to
war. People with white picket signs telling you to make love, not war,
while flower power and electric Kool-Aid tests fueled a generation
toward groovy music, utopian writing, and brain-numbing decadence.

                                                The Fringe - Flower generation

In the late nineteen sixties, kids were dropping sugar cubes as fast as they
could get their hands on them. The craze for mind expansion was only an
excuse to throw the word freedom around because I was a witness to the
magic and the madness of (what was to become) the ‘Me’ generation.

The very last thing we need in today's society are hippies.

When a world full of normal people becomes psychologically impaired, it's only a
matter of time before the persistent usage of mind-bending hallucinogens creates
a fraternity, rather than an organization of chosen leaders. A non-working society
of social misfits who make up their own rules as they go along eventually become
deranged lunatics running off the cracker into the soup.

                           Dave Holbrook & Steve Arsenault with the Venus Flytrap - California hippies

The neuronal wiring that comprises the human brain is delicate,
and it was now being tampered with from an unknown source.
I was allowing myself to be manipulated by a foreign substance
while my brain was transposed to the will of another.

You could spend your whole life traveling the globe and
still not see the wonders I've witnessed in a single night.

Then you could ask me if it was all worth it,
and I would have to tell you no.
Should you ask me why? Then I would
explain it to you in the simplest of words:

It is because a normal functioning human being was
never meant to be burdened with such terrible afflictions.
The likes of which have already been imparted unto the damned.

And yet, there is a certain power that comes
from seeing into the minds of deranged

An alluring glimpse of a forbidden continent we travelers can
behold while hanging onto the very threshold of our sanity.

So how do we solve this dilemma?
Could I live the rest of my life in this condition?

Certainly not, bolstered the timely old fellow in the
far-right corner of my cerebellum with a gray monocle
and a magnifying glass to clarify my perspection.

If you try to solve it logically,
you will go mad for there is no logic in it.
The only logical thing to do would be to run.
But to run away from monsters is foolish
because they always get you in the end.

Some monsters only exist to confound wisdom.

This world I have created for myself is not real.
Neither is it logical.
A pastime perhaps to dwell,
but why?

To reflect on ‘nothing-matters’ is a foolish game,
for they are everywhere, in every-thing,
and they are not going home yet.

Do you know anyone who has ever succeeded by running away from
a problem? Maybe someone in a witness protection program who has
been relocated to another state. That just might be your only exception.

You could run forever, but you can never hide from yourself, so why try?

I knew the drug would change me, and yet I did it anyway. In fact, I know
the dangers all too well. Only this time, I thought it would lead me
on a
strange and wonderful path to enlightenment, but I just wasn't ready.

Sometimes, it's just that little drop of apprehension that proves
to be your downfall.
The tiny crack in the ice everyone ignores.

Those damn regrets seem to follow me around like ravenous wolves.

                                                                         Pg 124

If you think of trying to cope with a problem as you would prior to ingestion,
you would have quite an awakening, for the thought
process changes so rapidly in
here and to such a degree that in the very end, we're all left to re-examine ourselves.

When the demon steps out of the shadows to greet you in the wheatfield,
you had better be ready to face your darkest hour with sword in hand,
or you just might end up having to stay in the dream a little longer. 

Did you ever hear of the young man who took too much LSD in the early 1970s?
Apparently, he turned into an orange. So now, no one could touch him for fear
that his skin may bruise, thus turning his pulp into orange juice. Food had to
be left by his bedroom door, and no one could be in the same room with him.

He was eventually committed to a lunatic asylum, and that’s no joke.

When something potentially helpful is used for all the wrong reasons,
nothing good can ever become of it.

Never become careless in disregard for the things that have the
most power in this world are the things that cannot even be seen.

Be good in life and be honest in your affairs, and in return,
the Good Lord will help you with what you need to succeed.
*(So long as you put forth the greater effort)*

Rectify your wrongdoings and establish a motive for living.
Give of yourself if you can and give unto those who have nothing.

Life in itself is relatively easy, so long as we follow the basic guidelines
dictated within our society to co-exist amongst each other. Handed down
from nature are a set of rules which even the animals must follow to ensure
proper living. When they stray from them, they are devoured.

I now knew what needed to be done.

As I stood there contemplating this belief, it was imperative
that I act quickly, for I sensed the spirits were getting restless.
When there is nothing but confusion in a sea of total calm,
the improbable skirmish will account for the last detail.

I extended my arms in an outward manner, whereby trying
to exemplify matters
by baring my emotions to the wind.

“Be not alarmed by us,” I said aloud in my
head, “for we are
only here but a moment, and then we shall leave. Please
the intrusion into your world, and be not angry with us who now
your true face. We mean you no harm. We are lost and tired.
We are confused
and weak. Have pity on us that we may join
you in your serenity. It is all we
can hope for.”

Then like a ray of sunlight through a cloud,
all was made well in our
newfound place.

They began conversing peacefully with one another as if we weren't even there,

for a bond of trust, it seems, had been formed. No longer were we considered
a threat to them, and it appeared they now accepted us, and even seemed to
enjoy our company. I felt as though I had made peace with the entire world.

I soon said farewell to the tree demons, for it was time for us to move on.

This journey would take us well into the morning hours, for as dazed and
exhausted as I was, I had the motivation to go on without stopping indefinitely.

                                      The Flowerpot Men - White dove

                                                                         Pg 125


Inkpop reviews for chapter 25

Beautifully Inked - Very detailed, very pictoresque. The way you write
it rather unique, haven't seen it before, actaully. It makes me picture a
guy sitting on a rocking chair looking at the world around him with great
analization and really just taking it all in. Bravo and well done, mate.

BlakeUrban - This is what I aspire to. Ya got an undeniable gift my man.
Good, Great, Grand!

Drowning.Silently. - Wow your literary style is one of the most unique I've
seen here. It's like I'm in a tunnel of swirling colors and images come flying
toward me..but yet I ghost on through to something else more chaotic or
serene. I do agree that this is a wonderful piece of work, regardless if the teen
community accepts it or not. You described something of this madness and made
it into something tangeable but yet when you reach out, and almost grasp that
tangeability, it falls away and corrodes into something even more brilliant. You've
done an excellent job with this, as well as protraying the mind of the insane.
Awesome, awesome work :)

G G Anderson - Dang your imagery is amazing- really really cool- I will
continue to read and definately will check out the middle chapter- reAlly REally
REALLY good- like I have said before- you are gifted-

Heather Marie Tumbleweed - omg your imagry is so beautiful, but playful,
check out my poem i will leave happy or broken harmony

isabella2296 - The imagery is absolutely, 100% gorgeous. It's also really
incredibly playful with a lightness I just can't put into words (although, judging
by how amazing this is, I bet you can!) I think my favorite line is the very last,
about flickering in the darkness of a long abandoned movie theatre. Just
absolutely incredible, really.

Leigh Fallon
- You bring poetry to a completely different level. There is so
much to love here. Every line is a literary masterpiece, full of beautiful imagery
and the deliciously selected words. If I had to name a favourite "Eyes which
festered in mishcieviousness" jumps out at me. I love the playful lightness of
this. Truly gorgeous, our numerous poets on Inkpop will have both an education
and a delightful experience when reading your work. Good luck. Leigh

(The above comment from Leigh was solely for page 120)

Leigh Fallon - This all reads like an out of body experience. You truly have
the most exquiste literary style that just oozes knowledge and experience. Its
slightly bizare too, sort of like falling down the rabbit hole if you know what I
mean, I just never know whats going to pop up next. I get the impression that if
I was reading this after consuming half a bottle of an lushious french red that I
might just be on the same wave length and be able to appreciate it more... do
you get me? Honestly, I don't know if you're going to get the readership you
deserve on here. Its that little bit highbrow and literary, not that teens can't be
high brow and they would (we all could) learn so much from your writing, but I
fear you won't get the praise you deserve. Have you tried posting this in book
form on Authonomy? It might get the recognition over there. But I don't want to
lose you from Inkpop either. Your work is nothing short of brilliant.... I think I'll
open that bottle of wine now, I can then ponder the "efflorescent flowers in an
ephemeral field" while shouting "The hedgehogs are here!" Talk to you later. Leigh

LorynMarie - I LOVE how descriptive you are about the trees, giving them a very
imaginative persona. It really drew me in on the first page. (I also like how you split
them into pages, that's pretty cool) I haven't read the rest of this book so I really
don't know the entire plot or anything, but this chapter is very well written. There
were a few places that you could have tightened up the sentences a bit and the
book title in the beginning should start with caps I think. Other than that, very
well written! -Loryn

Macrae by Nature - I think this is great, one word of advice, maybe thin out
all the adjectives, especially like the word 'delicate' before wings and the words
'efflorescent' and 'ephemeral' While I love people with a good grasp on
vocabulary, I think sometimes a message can be killed by overcluttering it with
adjectives. This is just a beautifuly written page. I think that you are incredibly
talented writer.

MIC - "With a growing stare so ferocious it cuts deep into the wafer thin layer
of the child's own imagination, to torment him throughout the night"---ooo, now
this is really cool!!! Look at me ... I'm already drooling over your work, and it's
the first little bit ...

"The sane entering the mind of the insane"---love it

"Then it happened!"----yes! This is so great!

"One spoke aloud while relaying the message down the line that stretched
well into this urban jungle"---so great!!!

"It seemed as if the whole of Staten Island had just gone into shock"---
Loving this!!!

"My mind was controlling my emotions, but my emotions were flooded by so
many partial thoughts ..." ---so great ... and the rest of the line is so great, too!

"Like a cellist in the middle of the Sahara desert"---hah! So clever!

"emotions were nothing more than a light flickering in the darkness of a long
abandoned movie theatre"---so cool

Every line is crafted so well!!! I am LOVING this!!! There's not an empty spot in
here, so full and moving, and fascinating, captivating ... yes, I could go on. Your
writing is so intelligent ... I love to really think ... and your writing does that for
me. So many clever moments!!! This is great! ~Morgan :)

(((Morgan was the "Top Pick" on inkpop for the month of Jan 2010.
Her book "Shadow Watchers" was recently flagged with a star
and has been reviewed by the Editorial Board of Harper/Collins.
Her work is exceptional and can be labeled, Adventure, Science
Fiction/ Fantasy, Romance.Seventeen year-old Clara Reynolds
has always known someone was watching her. Then the doctors
diagnosed her as delusional.)))

Mirka-Celeste Jamie Branzanti Velasquez - Well done. It's very good but
personally I think that you use too many really big and complicated words.
I did understand them don't worry , but if you want to reach a greater audience
try to think of everyone. Which includes people whose vocabulary might not be
as great as mine or yours. Other than that I think it was a brilliant piece of work
and I think I would definitely buy this book in a store. Great job.

raeofsunshine56 - The imagery is simply superb! You have truly out done yourself!
As always, I bow down to you sir!

Rebecca Ryals Russell -
Charles, You have an interesting premise here, but
it is so buried in words it got lost for me. I've edited the first few paragraphs
to give you some idea of how to simplify but say the same thing. Take this as
you will, it is simply a critique. My style is spare and to the point, like Hemingway.
Parts of this reminded of Poe, so to each his own. Aren't plants and trees already
alive? Maybe you need to describe what is 'alive' about them instead of telling us
they are 'alive'. Where the Wild Things Are needs caps. I wiped my eyes...-this is
very confusing imagery and too long with too many ideas. Try breaking it into 2
or 3 sentences. ...painting incorporated... no comma between. Try this revision:
Hyper...branches they seemed....detail. As if they all knew something I didn't they
appeared to smirk wickedly despite their gremlin-like demeanor. (remove the eyes
part - not needed) Paragraph 3 is way too wordy. Try this rewrite: Legions of these
ghastly creatures all but laughed outright. How flagrantly they mocked my character.
Innumerable species, these mutant tree dwellers observed me surreptitiously waiting
for blood to be spilt. I was outnumbered a billion to one. I stopped reading there but
noticed hyenas has no apostrophe and leviathans are giants. I hope this helps or
gives you some ideas on how to edit to be less redundant. You want readers to get
your ideas so don't weigh them down with words or they'll stop reading. BTW, don't
educe the number of 'big' words you used. Make your audience come up to your level.
If the ideas are good enough and the presentation simple, they will read it.

Sofia Araya - this is defenitly very unique! i enjoyed the imagery and could
picture everything that was happening. you're style is very different, but i am
glad that i read this because i enjoyed it. i do have to agree with Leigh Fallon
though about not having the correct type of readers here on this site, meaning
that this isn't something i would normally see in the YA section of a book store. -Sofia

Miscellaneous reviews for chapter 2

Daniel Schumacher
- Beyond that which should be sought after

Kevin Miller - What kind of writing is this. I really like where it is taking me.

Janis Yan - This is the level of writing which I call the genius stage.
It is as profound as it is unattainable (to most of our society) and
usually the individuals who possess it do not even know where to begin.

Brook Parucci - I can not tell you how many times I have read this chapter!
To be able to put something like this together does not even compute in my brain!
It is so far ahead of its time! Aliens from space could probably match wits with you!
Hey, you don't mind that I've copied this chapter do you? Thanks!

Charles Pendelton - How do you know I'm not from outer space? *(LOL)*



                                                          This review was posted on Dec/18/22



                                          This review was posted on Jan/18/23

                                                          alits29's review





                                       This review was posted on Jan/20/23

                                               iqrabashir871 's review
The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 25 - The hedgehogs are here

                                              Reader's Report by Iqra









                                       This review was posted on Feb/2/23

                                                   Hajranoor's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 25 - T
he Hedgehogs are here

                                            Reader's Report by Hajra



                                  This review was posted on Feb/10/23

                                  nehanegi1905 's review
The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 25 - T
he Hedgehogs are here

                                    Reader's Report by nehanegi1905




                                             This review was posted on Feb/17/23
                                                      kanchanninawe's review

The Embryo Man and Other Tales of Woe: Chapter 25 - The Hedgehogs are here

                                                  Reader's Report by kanchan




                                                           This review was posted on Mar/21/23

                                                                  Reviewed by yashodha_95




                                             This review was posted on Apr/26/23
                                              Reviewed by aamnaaaa


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given unto the person or persons responsible. Whether it be an artist, photographer, cartoonist., etc.

PG 120) Where the wild things are by Maurice Sendak -

PG 121) Pterodactyl
screensaver -

PG 121) Terre Lointaine (Distant Earth) by 
Vladstudio -

PG 121) The project sets for operas by Rossini's Journey to Rheims
by Rafal Olbinski -

PG 122) Prahlad
praying to Vishnu while in the fire by Unknown

PG 122) Revelation by Jason Engle -

PG 123) The usurper
by Jeff Christensen - 

PG 123) Voracious
by Leah Palmer Preiss -

PG 123) Manhunt
by Tetsuya Ishida -

PG 124) Make love not war poster,
circa 1967 -

PG 124) Trick with the tail #2
by Alexander Sasha Spivak -

PG 124) Saints preserve us
Martin Wittfooth -

PG 125) Scourge
by Esao Andrews -

PG 125) An optical illusion -