https://www.linklandfence.com/airport-security-fence/airport-security-fence.html 

I'm on the hunt for a set of two black upholstered dining chairs with brass legs. I can't seem to find what I'm looking for. High back, arms aren't necessary, prefer a velvet or cloth material rather than a faux leather. Here is an example of something that would work great if the legs were brass instead of gold. Seems like everything is either gold or silvesteel.
I'm considering just buying something and then buying the brass legs separately and swapping them out, but I'd prefer to not have to do that.

So yeah. See title. This happened a couple months ago but I have not been in the right mental state to type this out. Throwaway for obvious reasons.
The backstory:
We have had an unconventional relationship from the beginning. My brother (let's call him James) was placed for adoption at birth, since my parents were very young at the time. He grew up in California with a mom, dad, and older brother who was also adopted. We are fully blood related, as our parents stayed together and had me 11 years later after they were finally in a stable position to raise a child. When he was 23, my parents found him through an online service and reached out to him. I know some adopted folks don't want anything to do with their biological family, but James did (to my parents surprise and delight). So, at the age of 12, I met my "long-lost brother" I never knew I had.
We got along like two peas in a pod. Despite our age gap and wildly different families and environments, we ended up being incredibly similar people. I felt like I had known him my whole life. As I was growing up, I saw him about once a year; sometimes he would visit us, sometimes we would visit him and his family. After a few years, our parents interacted less and less, but we still had a strong relationship. We played video games together almost every night for years, and those are still some of the fondest memories I have of growing up. As I got older, we started going on adventures together: backpacking, snowboarding, beach trips, etc. Over the last 15 years, we developed an incredibly strong bond--unlike conventional brother-brother relationships, too. Since we didn't grow up together, we never really fought or got on each others nerves that much. Sure, I didn't see him in-person that often, but I always knew he was just a call/text/game away.
I grew up in a southern conservative environment, and only after going to college discovered that I'm a little bisexual. Especially as a man, it was much easier for me to go along with the more-socially-acceptable option of dating girls. I had known James was gay since I was 14 (he told me this despite my parents asking him to wait until I was older). And since I trusted him so much, when I finally figured out my sexuality at the age of 20, he was the first family member I told about it. I went to him before my parents since I knew he would understand and be able to give me advice on dealing with the social dynamic that comes with that territory. I'm mentioning this now because it will be relevant for the aftermath.The point is that I felt that I could trust him with anything. Absolutely anything. So I did, specifically with deep, personal issues like sexuality.
When SHTF:
On a snowboarding trip a couple months ago, we decided to get some weed and whiskey and chill out in the hotel after our first day on the slopes. In hindsight, getting cross-faded was probably not a great idea (for several reasons), but in a weird way I'm glad we did because, as he later told me: "that combo is like a truth serum" to him.
So there we are, drunk and high, shootin' the shit, talkin' about life. In that moment, I just felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude wash over me. I realized how lucky I was not only to have him as a brother, but also how lucky we were that we could afford to go on these adventures together and share so many experiences. So I tried to tell him how I was feeling. I don't remember exact words, but something along the lines of "the relationship we have is so special and important to me, I love you so much, bro." As I'm telling him this...
All of a sudden he grabbed my face and leaned in to kiss me right on the fucking mouth. Eyes closed, lips slightly apart. There was no way to mistake it for meaning anything else. I stood there like a deer in headlights for a moment, and he managed to make contact before I could realize what was happening and push him away. Dumbfounded, I had no idea what to say or think. My entire view of our relationship was shattered in an instant. Poof. Like WTF BRO!?
The aftermath:
He started apologizing profusely for misunderstanding, and we talked for probably another 2-3 hours about what it all meant and what the hell he was thinking. We also talked for several hours the next day before he dropped me off at the airport to go home. I essentially took on the role of a therapist, asking him questions to try to dissect where these complicated emotions were coming from. On the inside, I was so fucking pissed and still in complete disbelief/shock, but I couldn't let him know that out of fear for my safety at the time. After all, I was stuck 3 hours away from the airport and he was my ride back. Not sure of what else he might do and not wanting to risk setting him off, I placated him. I pretended like everything was fine, and that I understood and forgave him for everything.
I was so upset, terrified, distraught, [insert emotion here], etc. But I just played it cool, kept asking him questions, and saying it was all okay.
I distinctly remember asking him: "how long have you had this fantasy?" To which, he said "you don't want to know."... yeah, you read that right. LIKE WHAT?! So all these years we've known each other, he had been thinking about fucking me? Turns out that when I told him about my bisexuality, he apparently thought I was coming onto him or something. That I was only telling him because I was interested in him. He mentioned that over the pandemic (when we were playing a lot of video games together), he often thought about us building a bunkehideout/cabin in the middle of nowhere and living out the apocalypse together... and I guess having sex all the time?
He explained how, in his mind, that since we didn't grow up together that it was possible for him to develop these fantasies in the first place. He claimed that he read somewhere that siblings are often attracted to one another, but never act on it because they grow up with each other. I could go on about more things he said, but this post is already long enough.
My concern:
James has had a troubled social life for a long time. Lots more to say here, too, but the long story short is that he has never truly felt connected and satisfied with his personal relationships. He's never said this to me directly, but I know. And he knows it, but is too afraid to admit that he has grown complacent in a lot of aspects of his life over the years. He still lives with his parents, is addicted to porn, has limited social interaction with people his age, and his last real relationship (to my knowledge) was more than a decade ago. I'm fairly certain that his fantasy of me was rooted in a deep longing and desire for love and connection. But that's the thing--we did share love and connection. I still have no idea why he had to bring sex into our brotherhood, and I'm not sure I ever will understand.
Despite what he did to me and how much pain it has caused me, I still love him and care about him deeply. To be honest, I'm extremely concerned he's going to off himself. In his drunkenness that night, he even said so. I wish I could just forget about it and continue having a relationship with him, but the truth is, I don't know if I can ever trust him again. I've been re-thinking all the time we spent together for the last ~15 years, and I keep having this gut instinct that tells me he had an ulterior motive the whole time. It hurts to even think about, much less type this out, but: I'm thinking I have no other sensible option except to cut him out of my life. I don't know how I can trust him, or even give him the opportunity to re-gain my trust.
My question:
Should I cut him out of my life, or try to rebuild our relationship?
​
TLDR: Brother is gay, I told him I'm bi a few years ago. We are fully related, but he was adopted and I met him for the first time when I was 12. He recently confessed he has fantasized about having sex with me for a long time, and that his fantasy became stronger after I told him about my sexuality. I rejected his drunken advance, and now I think I have to cut him out of my life, but I'm worried he's going to off himself. And before anyone asks, YES, I AM IN THERAPY.

a few months ago i had 2 consecutive bad trips, which sounds stupid of me but let me explain. the first bad trip, i completely forgot it went bad. i woke up the next morning just remembering it as a good trip - because i took benzos to kill it and that made me forget both the bad trip and the fact i took benzos at all. it wasn't until the exact same thing that happened the first time that i remembered, and had a flashback of the awful shit i was experincing
i was seeing purple links for online posts about bad trips on my 2nd one, and it all flooded back. i was being hunted by this insect-like creature that was 'hunting' me. on both trips, the second i got spooked by this non-existent thing it started invading my thoughts and getting worse and worse. both times i took benzos to stop it before it got really bad. while i dont remember much of what i experienced, i remember being terrified enough to quickly end it
after both of these trips, i started suffering some form of split personality, i dont know how to explain it exactly but - it felt like there was multiple people inside my head, like manifestations of different parts of myself, sometimes talking to each other, talking to me, etc. then at some point, shit got really weird and things would change in my room without me remembering it - i'd wake up and my room was in a completely different layout, or work i was supposed to have done was already finished with no prior knowledge to doing it. stuff was happening without me realizing/remembering i did it. i wasn't taking any sort of drug that could cause this and i didn't have any benzos so it was definitely something internal
fast forward a few months, these episodes have completely disappeared - probably as I stopped taking acid after the 2nd bad trip. i think LSD had been causing some form of split personality to surface in me for a while and since then it has completely gone, but i am still left with the paranoia and fear of this non existent creature. anytime i hear a sort of vibration or so near my ear, fake or real, i jump. sometimes when I sleep i get sleepless nights as images of this thing flood my head and make me scared to sleep, and sometimes i feel like im outright high again on LSD
while the other aftereffects of my bad trip have gone away, this paranoia still hasn;'t and I'm still fearing something that doesnt exist. does this go away with time, or do you think my brain is just fried from that trip? my mental health has definitely improved since quitting LSD (i have bpd and it has gone down a lot since i stopped) but im not a fan of these sleepless nights and constant fear of something, that doesnt even really exist. is there anything i can do to help or is this just me now

Long post ahead
TL;DR I am a graduating CPE student and I am presented with a teaching opportunity by our department chair as a full time college instructor with a relatively high salary (30k above). Do I risk career stagnation if I pursued that opportunity? Would it be hard to enter the industry coming from a college instructor job? Is starting small in the industry more worth it in the long run? I hope to hear your thoughts on my dilemma.
If you want to know the context about the question or if you have the time to entertain my semi-rant, please continue reading below.
Context: So I'm a graduating computer engineering student from one of the top(?) universities in Region VII this June with a latin honor distinction. These past few weeks, I have been focusing my efforts in job hunting while upskilling and it really is indeed exhausting.
I initially received an offer very early on after passing one of the campus recruitment exam done by a company which we were incentivized to attend for additional grades on a certain subject. It had a decent starting salary (~22k for probationary) with an extensive training program pero I rejected it because I thought at that time I deserved better and the 2 year bond was one of the things that deterred me from taking the opportunity. In hindsight, I guess I was too out of touch with reality.
After rejecting my one and only JO, I was met with the reality of job hunting. It was then I realized that entry level roles that required no experience was very scarce, especially ones that provide intensive training. It was also around this time that I realized that I was not able to retain any of the essential knowledge that I should have focused on during my academic years. Basically I consider myself as a mediocre programmer (I can't even program without looking at cheat sheets and stackoverflow) who doesn't even understand by heart the concepts of object oriented programming and data structures. I somehow envy some of my peers because they have built quite a portfolio and learned a lot of tech stack early on, all while performing excellently in class on top of that.
Anyway, job hunting really humbled me. I realized I have a whole lot to learn and I can't be picky about roles since I've got little skills to offer. I initially intended to apply only to software development jobs but lately I have started to apply for Technical Support Desk, NOC Engineer, Analyst, basically any entry level role that requires no experience based on the job posting as long as it is remotely relevant to my field of study. I even got desperate to the point that I emailed a company that I really like to work for in order to follow up on my application more than a month after the technical interview, even though I know deep inside that I flunked that interview. I emailed just to feel like I'm doing something productive since there were no more entry level roles to send my application to for the time being. The response indeed confirmed my suspicion, because the reply stated that what they need is someone which is proficient in programming.
Unexpectedly, I just got a PM from our dept chair (on the same night I got the response to my follow up email stated above) asking if I already accepted any offers or if I'm interested in applying as a full-time instructor for our college faculty. The ballpark figure of the possible salary shocked me quite a bit since it's higher than any entry level salary that I could possibly get in my current level (above 30k). I initially said yes because I am open to any opportunity that comes at this point as long as it's within my field of study.
I was initially excited at first but then I started to wonder about my possible career progression in case I decide to really pursue the opportunity. I really need advice on whether starting my career as a college instructor is a good choice, or would it stagnate my career. Would it be hard to enter the industry at a later time if I chose such career option? Assuming I am indifferent and unbiased im exploring both options, what could you suggest: to start small in the industry and gain domain knowledge and skills over time that would increase salary drastically in the long run, or start with a relatively high salary but risk career stagnation (is it really a risk?). I would really appreciate people who would give sound career advice, provide constructive feedback, or point out any misconceptions that I may have assumed.
Also, if you managed to reach this part, thank you for taking your time to listen to the uncertainty, confusion, and indecisiveness of an internet stranger.

How far are typical shots on deer here? (Recently moved here) I have a .308 but I would like to take a deer with my .300 blackout AR since it seems like it’s all sub 100 yards….. my question is. Am I crazy? Just trying to prepare my setups for the new terrain. Ty in advance

“Melody,” I suppose…
Then I’ll be “Kuromi.”
“Roulette.”
…!
I’ll take my second choice, then. Call me “Zero.”
Please address me as “Kira” from now on.
T-that’s an…interesting codename. Hehe...n-not creepy at all!
Anyway, I’ll be “Mecha,” 'cuz that’s short for “mechanic”!
Guess you guys can call me “Leaf.” Despite the circumstances, it’s nice to meet you all.
“Misao” is totally better than all your terrible codenames!
“Smile” seems fitting, I suppose...
Oh, I know, I know! I’m the one and only “–”!
“Dash,” huh?
No, no, no! It’s “–”!
That’s what I said!
Nuh uh! You said “Dash,” which is way wrong and you should feel really bad about yourself. I’m “–”!
...
One by one, the fifteen came up with codenames, and introduced themselves to the group. After everyone had named themselves, Monotaro threw Monopads to each of them.
Okay, don’t forget those codenames! And don’t forget this very important fact: the mastermind’s gonna strike again!
You won’t know how, you won’t know exactly when, but some innocent sap’s blood’s gonna be on your hands tomorrow if you don’t act! Ahahahaha!
Monokuma vanished. Monotaro stayed behind, briefly, as if he’d again forgotten his cue.
Oh! Right! So long, bear-well!
And then Monotaro was gone, too. With his departure, the fifteen were seemingly left to their own devices for the day. On top of everything they’d just heard about being thrown into a killing game with a murderous mastermind, there was still the matter of what to do with the unfortunate dead boy in the Library.
Could we…bury him?
Of course we can, Melody. This building must contain tools we can use, and there’s plenty of space outside to choose a lovely spot worthy of your classmate.
Yeah, what, uh, Kira said! It’ll look…nice.
Sounds like a plan. Who wants to help me carry him out?
I was the one who found him, so I sort of feel obligated to volunteer.
Then I’ll go grab a shovel from the warehouse. I didn’t have a lot of time to check it, but I know there’s gotta be one in there!
The fifteen became a procession, as the dead boy was carried out of the Library and up the stairs. Everyone went along, and outside, though they were trapped in a domed cage under a blue sky, there was a stone set in the grass around the back of the Academy building that marked a good, picturesque place to lay someone to rest. It was a natural gravestone.
Once the hole was dug, and the dead boy lowered into the hole, Melody said a few words.
I…don’t remember his name. I don’t think I knew him very well, either. I…remember wanting to, though…
She told the group about a memory she had of the dead boy, about a time he’d cared for an injured crane. Once she’d finished, one voice piped up. It was Dash.
All those pretty vague details about this random guy…you sure you’re not just lying for attention? That’d be pretty messed up.
That caused a bit of commotion, but the impromptu funeral was soon over. The rest of the day stretched out in front of the fifteen, trapped in this strange place, with strange people, playing a strange—and already deadly—killing game.
I know what Monokuma said. But he said what he said to get us to distrust each other. Even if there is a mastermind among us, we need to stick together. So, do you guys want to get something to eat? We’ll get a chance to get to know each other better.
Good idea.
That’s an acceptable proposition.
Hmph…whatever. But I’m only going with you losers because I’m hungry!
After finding the Dining Hall stocked with food, the hungry fifteen settled down to eat and learn a little bit about the group. It was clear that everyone’s memories were hazy, about almost everything, though there were bits and pieces that people still remembered of their past lives before being trapped here. This strange collective amnesia was puzzling, to say the least. While they couldn’t do anything about that, they could try to figure out as much as they could about this “Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles.”
We’re all sticking together until we find an exit. Everyone got that?
There has to be something Monokuma and Monotaro overlooked, right?
Right! We’ll definitely find a way out of here!
Things did not go quite so swimmingly.
As a group, the fifteen spent the rest of the day exploring the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, trying to find a way out that their captors had overlooked. They uncovered many things during their search, as every floor of the Academy was open to them, and there were several other buildings to investigate, as well. Many rooms they could get into, but a few doors were locked.
One such door was the Ultimate ??? Research Lab on the Fifth Floor of the Academy building. Another was the sixteenth dorm room in the dormitory building, the one the group presumed to be the dead boy’s. The third was a futuristic-looking door in the Courtyard. And the last, found late in the day, when they were all feeling tired and some felt discouraged, was the underground metal hatch, protected by its electric barrier. Some felt hopeful that, at last, they’d found what they’d been looking for.
It was then that Monokuma showed up for the second time.
Thinking of going somewhere?
So sorry to burst your recently-blown bubbles, but getting through here’s a no-go without the code!
But since I’m such a nice bear, I’ll give it to one person, free of charge!
Puhuhu…who wants to be the lucky one? All you’ve gotta do is stop the mastermind’s killing spree with a kill of your own! Do that, and get away with murder, and the code’s all yours! Pretty easy, right?
Monokuma’s offer left the group at another dead end.
Somehow, guys, we’ll find that code. I’m sure of it.
Even if that exit sign is the truth, this killing game won’t end so quickly, once someone decides to kill.
I mean, come on. The game’s already started. We buried what’s-his-name today. The mastermind could even be one of us!
Still, her determination, in spite of the grim reality…it really is inspiring. We shouldn’t waste that hope!
Unfortunately, you just said it yourself, did you not? That hope has no place in our reality.
There was no further debate, as everyone was too tired from the long day. However, it wasn’t as if all were determined to leave things on such a negative note. At dinner, Kuromi and Melody had a proposal for the rest.
Melody and I will be hosting a little concert after in the Ultimate Pianist Research Lab for anyone who wants to come.
Hopefully, Kuromi and I can put on a show everyone can enjoy.
Two girls offering to put on a concert just for me? Hell yeah! No way I’m gonna miss that!
I believe they said they were hosting it for everyone, Mecha. Of course I’ll attend.
No way. Listening to whatever music you wanna play sounds like a good way to die of boredom.
Wouldn’t it be safest to stay in a larger group, Misao?
Hmph…fine.
Most agreed to go to Melody and Kuromi’s concert, but a few did not.
Pass.
…No thanks.
I will return to my room instead.
Go ahead and pretend everything’s gonna be okay if you want. See ya tomorrow…or maybe not! Nee-heehee!
As those four left for the dormitory building, the rest headed up to the Ultimate Pianist Research Lab, where Kuromi’s piano playing and Melody’s singing serenaded them all. At least, until…
DING-DONG-BING-BONG!
Hiya! It’s now 10 p.m. Sleep tight and sweet dreams, you bastards!
Monotaro’s announcement marked the day’s end. And the impending arrival of a new one, when the mastermind would be free to kill again…

The next morning...

As the fifteen had previously agreed to meet for breakfast the next day, after Monotaro’s 8 a.m. announcement, most made their way to the dining hall. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the early morning’s quiet peace to be shattered, as Misao had to sit near Mecha.
Ugh, you reek!
…!
WAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!
Hey! That was really rude, Mecha!
Not cool.
…
O-okay, okay, I didn’t mean like that, all right?
Ngh…hic…hic…I-it’s not my fault!
I can’t take a shower! I…I can’t tie my kimono sash by myself…
Don’t worry, Misao. I’ll help teach you how to tie it after we eat, okay? So, you don’t have to cry anymore.
…!
…O-okay, Smile.
Look, I’m sorry.
Huh? Who said that?
Oh, you're still alive. You smell so shitty, I thought the mastermind had already killed you or something!
After all that commotion, it took some time for the group to realize that they were one person short. Dash hadn’t shown up.
I had wondered where he was. Perhaps the mastermind has already struck?
Come on, seriously? Dash’s alive, just probably being a real pain in the ass somewhere.
Well, that’s probably true, but we still have to find him.
Yeah, we can’t abandon a party member!
Shall we organize into groups?
Most of those present then organized into small groups to search. A few others had different plans of how they were going to spend their morning. However, everyone agreed to meet up again for lunch at noon.

A little before 12 pm, in the Dining Hall…

Back in the Dining Hall, a few had arrived for lunch earlier than the others.
Where the hell is that guy, anyway?
Dunno. He’s still alive, though, I just know it.
…
Suddenly, Dash strolled in, acting as if he was without a care in the world.
What’s the food situation looking like, guys? I’m starving!
Dash! It’s so nice to see you unharmed!
As Dash got some cereal ready for himself, and as the others began walking in, the conversation obviously turned to where he’d been all morning.
Hey! We’ve been searching for you all morning, asshole! We looked around outside, we tried your room…where the hell were you?!
Oh, was that racket you guys? Nee-heehee…I was too busy plotting murder to open my door. You know how it is.
H-huh?!
Acting this way is playing right into Monokuma’s hands, Dash. This is exactly what he wants!
They didn’t spend their entire lunch talking about Dash’s disappearance, however.
There’s something everyone here should know. I found a Secret Door behind a moving bookcase in the Library. There was a Card Reader next to it.
Fenrir and I tried to find a way inside pretty much all morning.
…No luck.
And there’s one more thing. Just a question I’ve got. Anyone ever heard of the “Ultimate Hunt”?
First time I’m hearing of it.
Maybe…it has something to do with the Ultimate Research Labs?
It’s definitely a possibility.
Guess no one else knows either, huh. It was just in a random book in the Library, so I didn’t have high hopes. Anyway, that’s all I had.
There was one more topic of conversation at lunch.
Since we’re all here, I’d like to host a get-together in the Ultimate Cosplayer Research Lab after lunch. Think of it as…a chance to talk about ourselves. Maybe if we all do that, we’ll start remembering more things about ourselves. It’s worth a try, right?
Of course it’s worth a try, Kanata!
…
I could take some pictures during it, too, if that’s okay.
…!
A lovely idea!
Sounds like fun.
Put me down as a maybe.
If you’re sure me joining in wouldn’t be too much…
I-I’ll go, but I don’t wanna share stuff in front of everyone! Just Smile!
Well, it’s my get-together, so I have to be there, too…but we’d have until dinner. It’s plain to see we’d have time for everyone who wants to be there.
With some plans decided, the group of fifteen went their separate ways, promising to all meet up again at dinner…

6 pm, in the Dining Hall once more...

Only fourteen people made it to dinner.
Has anyone seen Leaf?
…
…
N-not me…
He was in the building, if that helps. I saw him a couple of times.
So did I…
Well, Dash was fine before, right? Leaf must be, too.
…Crossbow parts and bolts are missing from the Ultimate Assassin Research Lab.
…!
The parts themselves are useless unless someone knows how to put them together to make the weapon, but still. It’s out there.
I…I put it together earlier. Damnit…!
…Why?
…How?
I don’t know! I didn’t know I could! I was doing inventory, when all of a sudden…it was like I was possessed, and I put it together somehow! Then I ran outta there so fast, I forgot about the crossbow…!
H-how could you be so irresponsible?
Kyahaha! Star’s such a dumbass!
Yeah, like hell I’m gonna be your friggin’ sidekick! You did something way worse than what I did!
I know, I know, but I’m gonna make it right! I’m gonna find that missing crossbow if it’s the last thing I do!
Well, okay, you do that, but we still need to find Leaf. I can search in the building here, top to bottom. Who’s coming with me, and who wants to search outside?
Search teams searching for Leaf inside the Academy, searching for Leaf outside on the grounds, and searching for the missing crossbow in the Academy were figured out. With three distinct goals in mind, the fourteen split up and searched…

Just before 9:15 pm, at the bottom of the Basement stairs...

Who…wuzzat…Nee…hee…hee…
Don’t try to move around, okay? You’re hurt.
Mecha and Star soon came down the stairs, and were shocked to see what they saw. Zero and Kuromi were tending to Dash, who was bleeding from a somewhat-bandaged head wound.
Is he okay?!
W-what the hell happened to him?
I shouldn’t complain, but I’m glad you’re the last two down here. I won’t have to repeat this horrible story anymore…
As Zero recounted what had happened, other voices could be heard in the Library, too. When the late arrivals entered the library, they were met with another shocking scene.
…!
N-no fuckin’ way…
They saw blood in the Library. Blood covered a toppled tower of books, and a trail of blood led to the moving bookcase and the Secret Door. And, everyone besides Leaf was accounted for.
Several things soon happened in quick succession: Fenrir and Zero took Dash upstairs to check his wound; Melody ran out of the room, while Kuromi followed her; and Star began pounding on the Secret Door.
Leaf! Leaf! If you’re in there, try to open the door! Come on!
Leaf! Please!
If you can hear us, say something!
The rest just stood there, as if shell-shocked. Kira called for Monokuma to explain this horrible sight. Without a body, the bear would not confirm or deny that anything had happened to anyone. However, the black-and-white bear had this to say…
I told everyone, didn’t I? The mastermind will kill another each day, unless someone else does it first.
Monotaro’s 10 pm night time announcement would play soon enough. Those who hadn’t left already would leave the bloody crime scene in the Library. They would then leave the Academy building together. Some would try to keep the group together. Most would just head to bed, and await the next day.
Tomorrow, their number would possibly shrink even further at the mastermind’s bloody hands…
…Unless someone else killed first.
Hey everyone, Tri here again with the second preview. The third should be the last.
I'll need to hold signups for Chiaki. The signup date and time will be finalized when the third preview is posted. So, look forward to that.
More to come. :)

Looking at buying some hunting land in NM and want to know how they calculate how many elk or deer a landowner can harvest each year

After first working odd jobs for 5 years since high school and dropping out of 2 schools during that time, I have finally graduated from university after 4 grueling mostly remote schoolyears. I am now a bachelor of business IT and I just can't stop smiling.
I honestly didn't have much faith in myself of ever graduating. I just always told myself that I have to. I couldn't afford to drop out again. I guess getting dumped last summer, fighting through the depression caused by that and slowly learning to love myself again gave me a boost to wrap up my studies.
Now while I don't know how long I have to hunt for a job now, I would much rather be jobless for some time than torture myself with sitting on the school bench ever again.
I want to congratulate everyone who also celebrates a graduation, and to cheer those on who are still fighting through their studies. Keep at it. You are all champions in my eyes!

Flying Sparks

Pre Order Now

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https://i.redd.it/vub83em8fb3b1.gif

Chapter 2

“Hazardous? I’ll show that manipulative, misanthropic, anti-establishment cretin just what hazardous means if he thinks I’m going to fold on this!”
The sound of vigorous guitar riffs made a fitting accompaniment to the angry tirade despite originating on opposite sides of the communal area. Ama was glaring at a laptop that sat on a stained oak desk shoved against the large table near the kitchen. She tapped a fingernail on the wood as she read through the alert.
“And what violation of basic human dignity has her royal prudishness’s undies in a bunch?” Em demanded with an affected sneer without looking up from his guitar scales.
“Oh you’ll agree with this one tree-hugger,” Drake muttered from where he sat oiling his work boots.
“Yeah,” Donny piped up, “Finney is trying to kill a perfectly healthy fir.”
“What!” Em demanded, carefully placing his battered old acoustic guitar down in its case and darting over to look at the computer screen. “You mean apark tree?”
Despite her simmering frustration Ama allowed a small smile to flicker across her face as she continued to type.
“Get out of your pajamas and I’ll tell you,” Drake ordered pointing towards the bathroom door with a stained rag. “School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have breakfast and chores. That goes for you too Pip-squirt.”
“I hope you washed your hands before you touched our food,” Em said with a frown.
“Boot grease makes a great source of fatty acids.” Drake retorted. “Now go!”
The two smaller boys muttered in annoyance but stumbled off to follow orders.
“So what is up?” the youth asked as he bent his head back over the smooth leather of his boots.
“Mrs. Finney wants that tree down that’s blocking her perfect view of Crescent Lake.” Ama replied in a dry tone.
“One that’s clearly on park property?” Drake asked.
“Indeedy-do.” Ama replied giving the paper in front of her a glare.
“So how’s she justifying it?” Drake asked.
“As a safety hazard to her house.” Ama replied.
“And?”
The biologist groaned and rubbed her face.
“As far as I can tell the trunk is perfectly healthy. There is an old trash can lid grown into the trunk and a little discolored sap is leaking out there.”
“Frass?”
“Watch your language!” Donny interjected as he darted up to the table.
“Frass is not a bad word,” Drake stated. “Have you let the chickens out?”
“Yes, what does frass mean?” Donny asked as he started piling stir-fry onto his plate.
“Look it up.” Drake ordered him. “Emerald! Breakfast ends in ten minutes! Get your tukus down here!”
“It’s bad health to rush meals,” Em snapped out as he came down a narrow stairway with deliberate slowness.
“It’s even worse for your health to skip meals altogether,” Drake growled threateningly.
“Shut it and give me some eggs.” Em snapped back.
“Emerald Waters Undersun,” Drake hissed out through gritted teeth. “You are going to get your own eggs.”
The boy threw himself into a chair and glared at Drake with challenge in every line of his body.
“Emerald,” Ama said in a calm tone. “I think you should apologize to your cousin now.”
“Sorry I disturbed you Ama,” he offered without breaking eye contact with Drake.
“Not me, him,” Ama said.
“Sorry you had to hear that Donny.” Em said.
Ama heaved a sigh and closed her computer.
“Emerald,” Ama said.
“Do you want to eat or go hungry?” Drake demanded.
Ama glanced at him with a familiar uneasy look in her eyes and Drake fought down a wince.
“Now, Em.” she said in a patient tone.
“I’ll go hungry,” Em snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the couch.
Donny kept his eyes fixed on his plate. Ama heaved a sigh before turning back to her computer. Em wriggled on the couch for several minutes before skulking back to the table. Drake moved to intercept him but Ama stopped him with a look and he let Em serve himself. Drake cast irritated glances at the wall clock as the time crept more and more into school time.
Ama closed her computer and stood, then sighed, sat and opened it again.
“I need to pick out their report topics,” Ama muttered.
“I could do it,” Drake offered.
“You do quite enough,” Ama replied briskly, as she scanned the news. “Here you go. For Donny, malfunctions at the Lewis- McChord Air Force Base air show.” A frown creased her face. “Wow, this is pretty serious. It looks like the F-16 demonstration team nearly got killed.”
Drake whistled and leaned over her shoulder.
“Multiple system failures,” he read out loud. “I am pretty sure that isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Nope,” Ama agreed. “Here is a topic on big game management for Em.”
“Reports due by next week?” Drake asked as the old printer on the desk began to squeal and grumble as it powered up.
“Same as usual,” Ama confirmed.
Drake put the printouts on top of the homework pile and moved to wash up the breakfast dishes.
“I need to get to work early today so you two be good for Drake,” she called out placing a quick kiss on top of the smaller boys’ heads and giving Drake’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.
“Good luck with Mrs. Finney, and stay safe.” Drake called out as she went into her room.
The table was cleaned off and wiped down and the clink of forks gave way to the steady scratch of pencils on paper. They broke for a recess after religion and then lunch after history and math, and by the time the Grandfather clock in the corner struck two the younger boys twitching with energy. Drake made certain the internet was disconnected at the router, and chased Donny and Em out into the garden.
“And don’t come in until dark,” he ordered tossing two snack bags out after them.
Donny as usual snatched his food and disappeared into the small orachard. Low grumbles about troglodytes and the Amish wandered out into the high corn following Em and Drake shook his head in exasperation wondering, not for the first time how the dark haired princeling came from the same gene pool as his little brother. The kitchen being mostly ordered Drake was turning to put the last random dirty sock in the hamper when a gnarled hand clutching a cane head appeared in the corner of his eye, causing his heart to make a valiant attempt to bolt out of his throat.
“Abuelita!” he gasped forcing his hands down from the guard position. “Where did you come from?”
Smoldering black eyes ran searchingly over the tall youth. An impossibly long mane of streaked silver and black hair was barely contained in a thick braid. A sharply pointed nose perched over a small wrinkled mouth. A vibrant red horse-hair serape hung over her shoulders concealing everything except her brown and gnarled hands which currently clutched the old tree branch she used as a cane. Drake had been more than a little comforted by the fact that both Em and Donny had admitted to having the thought ‘witch’ every time time they saw her as well.
“From the hand of God by the bodies of my sainted mother and father,” she replied after a long, uncomfortable silence.
She always spoke in a low husky voice that suggested years of smoking, though Drake had never smelled even stale smoke on her.
“Right,” Drake blinked and grinned at the response; the one she always gave. “So you are here for their Spanish lesson? I have their grammar books ready and-”
The narrow end of the tree branch rapped against the concrete of the floor causing Drake to jump. Abuelita glared at him, locking his gaze and holding him in place with it for a moment.
“I am here for their lessons,” she finally stated, “and you are there for my payment.”
Drake thought longingly of the repair and maintenance manuals in the cab of the truck and the new tool he was itching to try, but he forced a grin on his face.
“Yes ma’am,” he said. “What can I get you today?”
Abuelita pulled out a bag of woven grass from under her serape causing the indistinct patterns on the cloth to shift and change.
“Take this,” she ordered him, “and collect me the cobalt blue berries that grow on a single stalk close to the ground. They must come from the mountain to the south east of here by the crystal brook.”
Drake nodded, and took the little bag, he didn’t quite manage to infused his gestures with enthusiasm he supposed. The old woman, probably wouldn’t have noted it anyway. She turned and moved towards the garden door without waiting for any other reply. However she called out over her shoulder as he turned to find his own way out of the rambling structure.
“Don’t dawdle little one. A storm brews in the distance.”
He tried not to roll his eyes at that, the weather forecast was clear and eighties for the next week according to the morning fire report Ama had printed. The youth only nodded and slipped around the corner. He circled the barn and pulled a set of loose tan pants and tunic out of the cubby. The soft worn leather almost perfectly matched the forest floor for color as did the moccasins he pulled on after them. His morning running clothes were modern stuff that wicked the sweat away from him and let him speed through the forest. These were his free day clothes. The ones that let him disappear into the forest and wander. Abuelita, for all of her demands, would tend Em and Donny until he returned no matter how late that was, and with the Park’s yearly budget talks still under way it was highly unlikely Ama would be home until long after the sun had set. Despite still hearing the call of the half restored truck he felt something lossening in him already. The soft cotton and smooth leather rested easily against his skin and Drake slipped into the forest.
Freedom; for the moment at least, blissful freedom. Pushing aside the guilt that accompanied the thought as well as any lingering worries about his charges the youth let his legs carry him through the trees. He shunned the man made paths, following the faint animal trails. This close to the barn they were as clear to him as if they were named city streets. Being animal trails, they invariably led him to water. Today he stopped at a trickling stream, took off his moccasins, and rolled up his pants legs. The youth turned and followed the thin flow of icy water upstream, letting it steal the heat from his body through his feet.
Some distance upstream, the stream widened and pooled under a boulder. There Drake paused and pulled an old black compass out of his pocket. Behind him he knew every trail and tree. Ahead was a broad swath of National Wilderness he would have to cross, or possibly Bureau of Land Management or even state managed forests where he more rarely wandered. It was hard to tell where the boundaries were from the ground. The clearing he wanted for the berries was solidly in BLM land and he still had quite a ways to go to get there. The stand of timber that stood between him and his goal was dense with young tree and branches that frequently formed impenetrable hedges he had to track around and he checked his compass regularly as he climbed in elevation. Even so the youth found he had wandered too far off his route and had to correct when he spotted the boundary fence. However he was in no hurry and he reached the clearing long before the sun told him it was time to turn around.
Sometime in the past some unknown force had carved a shallow trench across the side of one of the small mountains that that dotted the wilderness. It had puzzled Drake at first. The scour was at the wrong angle to be an old rock slide, and terminated in a near perfectly circular clearing at the lower end. Centuries old Douglas Firs abruptly gave way to a second ring only a few decades old. Those were in turn beginning to produce cones and a smattering of knee high saplings. The rest of the space was completely given over to wildflowers. No matter what season Drake visited it he found a riot of life.
There had been an early spring and many herbs that normally would have waited a month or more were already in full bloom in the mountain meadow. A white wave of foamflower washed in from the deep forest surrounding the clearing, sending up knee high stalks covered in the delicate white blooms. Late trillium hid close to the roots of the great firs, many having shed their white corollas and begun to put forth their bulbous seed heads. Fuzzy white baneberry blossoms nodded gently in the breeze. A riot of yellow and purple spread across the ground as vetch and buttercups and a host of clovers competed for space in the open sun. Great stalks of lupine as high as his head thrust up their purple and blue proudly from thick clusters of palm shaped leaves. Pink shooting stars and violet harebells crouched under the protection of the larger plants. Indian paintbrush lit the scene with flames of red and orange. Where a spring seeped into the meadow elephant’s head flared neon pink and corydalis bushes put forth blushing blooms. Pale green wild orchids stood along the wet spot and the swarms of bees danced from them to the glacier lilies.
Sometimes, as he bent over a tiny blossom and traced the intricate network of veins in the petals, drank in the scent, and felt the smooth surface of the leaves an otherworldly feeling would come over him. It was as if there was another world just out of range of his senses. If he could only really look, the thin illusion that was blocking him would slip away and reveal the real world underneath it.
“Look Awiegwa,” his father would whisper, pointing at a deer mouse perched on a fallen log. “What does it see?”
Awiegwa would screw up his face and squint. Trying to find the answer to the question.
Awiegwa had often wondered how so many flowers had come to be in the relatively small area. He had identified dozens of species and there were more he had yet to determine. The clearing was always the first place to bloom and the last to go dormant. Many of the flowers seemed to utterly defy their usual blooming patterns. However, as time passed he had simply come to accept it. It was one of the small good things that brought back the memories of his father. If it didn’t quite follow the rules Ama had taught him, well an impossible clearing in the mountains wasn’t a place for rules.
The particular bloom that Abuelita had requested had taken full advantage of the early sun and had already put forth a few cobalt blue berries; easily spotted at the edge of the clearing in the delicate sea of white flowers.
However before he left the shade of the forest for the meadow the youth paused and closed his eyes. Bole wasn’t always here, but he was often enough that Awiegwa always checked for him. Carefully he reconstructed the clearing in his mind; marking every tree and boulder on the edge. Three years he had been coming here and each time it was easier to recreate the clearing. Breathing evenly he opened his eyes, letting the mental image merge with the actual. There was a brief moment of confusion as details like the play of light through branches and the trembling of small clusters of flowers fixed themselves but there was only one truly jarring note. Awiegwa didn’t let his eyes focus on the disparity; he never did anymore, but a warm smile spread across his features as he slipped silently into the meadow.
He was here. As the youth moved in a low crouch, gathering the first fruits of the Queen’s Cup, he let his peripheral vision linger on a particular snag. There was nothing obviously interesting about it, other than the fact that it had not been there the last time Awiegwa was here. He had named the wanderer Bole, because it most often appeared as a thick tree trunk; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Occasionally it would be a boulder or simply a mound in the dirt. Often it wasn’t in the clearing at all. If the youth moved forward and tried to closely examine it he could never find anything to suggest it was something other than a tree or rock.
He had thought about taking a sample occasionally, had taken his knife out to do just that more than once, but something always held him back. Bole was a part of this place. Dissecting him would be too much like attempting to dissect his sense of his father’s presence here. The youth had never told anyone about this place, not even Ama with who could get most things out of him easily enough. Down at the house, in town, when he was Drake; solid, reliable, first up in the morning, two grades ahead in school with a penchant for science Drake, a productive member of modern society with a promising future and his mother smiling at him. Here he could be Awiegwa. Here he could believe in the ancient medicines his father had dug out of dusty old tomes and brought to life from the forest litter. Every time Awiegwa left the clearing and headed back towards home reality would reassert itself. Bole would resolve back into a figment of his imagination, created from pride in a somewhat better than average memory and what the social workers had called an “intriguing imagination”. When he reached the house and become solidly Drake again flickers of embarrassment would begin eating at him for letting his senses trick him like that, but as long as the blooms nodded around him in this garden Bole could exist even on a Thursday.
The little woven grass bag filled up with the berries fairly quickly and Awiegwa soon stretched out of his crouch and let his gaze wander contentedly over the clearing. As it always did, the warm space was working its special magic. Worries about Em getting out of his schoolwork, of not paying enough attention to the quiet Donny, of letting Ama see his petty resentments: it had all melted away from his muscles, thoughts of college costs and abandoning his duties dissolved into an acute sense of the now. The leaves rustled softly in a barely-there breeze, the heavy scent of some unidentified blossom filled his lungs, a dozen shades of green framed the rainbow of flowers, and over and above it all the creaking of the firs as the wind played over them. It was at times like these that he felth he could almost see into heaven; that something wonderful that existed just beyond his senses, and all he had to do was reach out and claim it.
The youth took a deep breath and let himself fall backwards onto a handy rise in the forest floor. His path had taken him to the foot of the snag and he shifted slightly to align himself with the gnarled roots. One hand gripped a time smoothed root.
“Ama trusted me enough to go out of state,” he murmured. “That’s the first time she’s done that. Usually she has Abulita stay with us to fend off the Harsh, but she said it’s long past legal now.”
It was his imagination of course that made him think the root vibrated in his hand in response. Many a long hour he had spent in this clearing with the wanderer. He had poured out his frustrations and anguishes over life’s injustices, had shared his secrets as he grew, and had shouted his triumphs. Sometimes he felt closer to Bole than to any of his human friends. However, something that sounded like his mother’s voice warned him that there was something odd about this and that awareness was the main reason he had kept this place secret from Ama. Their mother hadn’t exactly liked stuff like that. She had never objected to his father’s digging up the old stories of her people. Making cross generational connections between elders, who more often than not lived isolated lives, and the next generation, was an admirable goal in of itself in her eyes; objectively a social good. Storytelling was only the natural course for these relationships to take, but subtle looks had warned even a very young Drake that it was best to cautious what he shared with his mother. At least of those things that couldn’t be placed on a microscope slide. So this was Awigewa’s place, and while his father’s spirit wanders the flowers with he had never felt his mother here.
He let his focus drift up, and up. Dark blue Lupine nodded over his head framing the faint crisscross of jet contrails that threw a light haze over an otherwise cloudless sky. His clothed grew deliciously hot from the spring sun. The ground too had eagerly accepted the energy and now it conducted the heat into the muscles of his back. Bole’s wood beneath him was warmer even than the surrounding ground and an idle thought traced across Awiegwa’s awareness; something about it being odd for the light colored wood and relatively dry wood to retain more heat than the darker soil surrounding it. His mind was filled with the impression of a goal. He had been meaning to do, something. Something fun, yes, exploring, he’d meant to see if whatever had dug that den by the second boulder was cubing this year. He would just get up and do that in a minute. His back was so warm and comfortable.
​
https://i.redd.it/9sde27n9fb3b1.gif
“Flying Sparks”
Another foray into the lives of Drake McCarty, Ama Love, and the rest of their siblings as they discover that something alien is out in the forest around their home.
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/flying-sparks-a-novel-of-dragon-bear-and-boy/coming_soon
#FlyingSparks #ScienceFiction #Scifi #Story #novel #book #DrakeMcCarty #AmaLove #Donny #Em #Bard #Bole #Aliens #Spaceships #Crystals #fireflies #NPS #NationalPark #Doctor #Sever #family #storm #writing #reading #drama #literature #author #BettyAdams #DyingEmbers #Dragons #ThingsThatGoBoomp #Indiegogo #CrowdFunding

Flying Sparks Pre Order Now Chapter 2 “Hazardous? I’ll show that manipulative, misanthropic, anti-establishment cretin just what hazardous means if he thinks I’m going to fold on this!” The sound of vigorous guitar riffs made a fitting accompaniment to the angry tirade despite originating on opposite sides of the communal area. Ama was glaring at a laptop that sat on a stained oak desk shoved against the large table near the kitchen. She tapped a fingernail on the wood as she read through the alert. “And what violation of basic human dignity has her royal prudishness’s undies in a bunch?” Em demanded with an affected sneer without looking up from his guitar scales. “Oh you’ll agree with this one tree-hugger,” Drake muttered from where he sat oiling his work boots. “Yeah,” Donny piped up, “Finney is trying to kill a perfectly healthy fir.” “What!” Em demanded, carefully placing his battered old acoustic guitar down in its case and darting over to look at the computer screen. “You mean apark tree?” Despite her simmering frustration Ama allowed a small smile to flicker across her face as she continued to type. “Get out of your pajamas and I’ll tell you,” Drake ordered pointing towards the bathroom door with a stained rag. “School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have breakfast and chores. That goes for you too Pip-squirt.” “I hope you washed your hands before you touched our food,” Em said with a frown. “Boot grease makes a great source of fatty acids.” Drake retorted. “Now go!” The two smaller boys muttered in annoyance but stumbled off to follow orders. “So what is up?” the youth asked as he bent his head back over the smooth leather of his boots. “Mrs. Finney wants that tree down that’s blocking her perfect view of Crescent Lake.” Ama replied in a dry tone. “One that’s clearly on park property?” Drake asked. “Indeedy-do.” Ama replied giving the paper in front of her a glare. “So how’s she justifying it?” Drake asked. “As a safety hazard to her house.” Ama replied. “And?” The biologist groaned and rubbed her face. “As far as I can tell the trunk is perfectly healthy. There is an old trash can lid grown into the trunk and a little discolored sap is leaking out there.” “Frass?” “Watch your language!” Donny interjected as he darted up to the table. “Frass is not a bad word,” Drake stated. “Have you let the chickens out?” “Yes, what does frass mean?” Donny asked as he started piling stir-fry onto his plate. “Look it up.” Drake ordered him. “Emerald! Breakfast ends in ten minutes! Get your tukus down here!” “It’s bad health to rush meals,” Em snapped out as he came down a narrow stairway with deliberate slowness. “It’s even worse for your health to skip meals altogether,” Drake growled threateningly. “Shut it and give me some eggs.” Em snapped back. “Emerald Waters Undersun,” Drake hissed out through gritted teeth. “You are going to get your own eggs.” The boy threw himself into a chair and glared at Drake with challenge in every line of his body. “Emerald,” Ama said in a calm tone. “I think you should apologize to your cousin now.” “Sorry I disturbed you Ama,” he offered without breaking eye contact with Drake. “Not me, him,” Ama said. “Sorry you had to hear that Donny.” Em said. Ama heaved a sigh and closed her computer. “Emerald,” Ama said. “Do you want to eat or go hungry?” Drake demanded. Ama glanced at him with a familiar uneasy look in her eyes and Drake fought down a wince. “Now, Em.” she said in a patient tone. “I’ll go hungry,” Em snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the couch. Donny kept his eyes fixed on his plate. Ama heaved a sigh before turning back to her computer. Em wriggled on the couch for several minutes before skulking back to the table. Drake moved to intercept him but Ama stopped him with a look and he let Em serve himself. Drake cast irritated glances at the wall clock as the time crept more and more into school time. Ama closed her computer and stood, then sighed, sat and opened it again. “I need to pick out their report topics,” Ama muttered. “I could do it,” Drake offered. “You do quite enough,” Ama replied briskly, as she scanned the news. “Here you go. For Donny, malfunctions at the Lewis- McChord Air Force Base air show.” A frown creased her face. “Wow, this is pretty serious. It looks like the F-16 demonstration team nearly got killed.” Drake whistled and leaned over her shoulder. “Multiple system failures,” he read out loud. “I am pretty sure that isn’t supposed to happen.” “Nope,” Ama agreed. “Here is a topic on big game management for Em.” “Reports due by next week?” Drake asked as the old printer on the desk began to squeal and grumble as it powered up. “Same as usual,” Ama confirmed. Drake put the printouts on top of the homework pile and moved to wash up the breakfast dishes. “I need to get to work early today so you two be good for Drake,” she called out placing a quick kiss on top of the smaller boys’ heads and giving Drake’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Good luck with Mrs. Finney, and stay safe.” Drake called out as she went into her room. The table was cleaned off and wiped down and the clink of forks gave way to the steady scratch of pencils on paper. They broke for a recess after religion and then lunch after history and math, and by the time the Grandfather clock in the corner struck two the younger boys twitching with energy. Drake made certain the internet was disconnected at the router, and chased Donny and Em out into the garden. “And don’t come in until dark,” he ordered tossing two snack bags out after them. Donny as usual snatched his food and disappeared into the small orachard. Low grumbles about troglodytes and the Amish wandered out into the high corn following Em and Drake shook his head in exasperation wondering, not for the first time how the dark haired princeling came from the same gene pool as his little brother. The kitchen being mostly ordered Drake was turning to put the last random dirty sock in the hamper when a gnarled hand clutching a cane head appeared in the corner of his eye, causing his heart to make a valiant attempt to bolt out of his throat. “Abuelita!” he gasped forcing his hands down from the guard position. “Where did you come from?” Smoldering black eyes ran searchingly over the tall youth. An impossibly long mane of streaked silver and black hair was barely contained in a thick braid. A sharply pointed nose perched over a small wrinkled mouth. A vibrant red horse-hair serape hung over her shoulders concealing everything except her brown and gnarled hands which currently clutched the old tree branch she used as a cane. Drake had been more than a little comforted by the fact that both Em and Donny had admitted to having the thought ‘witch’ every time time they saw her as well. “From the hand of God by the bodies of my sainted mother and father,” she replied after a long, uncomfortable silence. She always spoke in a low husky voice that suggested years of smoking, though Drake had never smelled even stale smoke on her. “Right,” Drake blinked and grinned at the response; the one she always gave. “So you are here for their Spanish lesson? I have their grammar books ready and-” The narrow end of the tree branch rapped against the concrete of the floor causing Drake to jump. Abuelita glared at him, locking his gaze and holding him in place with it for a moment. “I am here for their lessons,” she finally stated, “and you are there for my payment.” Drake thought longingly of the repair and maintenance manuals in the cab of the truck and the new tool he was itching to try, but he forced a grin on his face. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “What can I get you today?” Abuelita pulled out a bag of woven grass from under her serape causing the indistinct patterns on the cloth to shift and change. “Take this,” she ordered him, “and collect me the cobalt blue berries that grow on a single stalk close to the ground. They must come from the mountain to the south east of here by the crystal brook.” Drake nodded, and took the little bag, he didn’t quite manage to infused his gestures with enthusiasm he supposed. The old woman, probably wouldn’t have noted it anyway. She turned and moved towards the garden door without waiting for any other reply. However she called out over her shoulder as he turned to find his own way out of the rambling structure. “Don’t dawdle little one. A storm brews in the distance.” He tried not to roll his eyes at that, the weather forecast was clear and eighties for the next week according to the morning fire report Ama had printed. The youth only nodded and slipped around the corner. He circled the barn and pulled a set of loose tan pants and tunic out of the cubby. The soft worn leather almost perfectly matched the forest floor for color as did the moccasins he pulled on after them. His morning running clothes were modern stuff that wicked the sweat away from him and let him speed through the forest. These were his free day clothes. The ones that let him disappear into the forest and wander. Abuelita, for all of her demands, would tend Em and Donny until he returned no matter how late that was, and with the Park’s yearly budget talks still under way it was highly unlikely Ama would be home until long after the sun had set. Despite still hearing the call of the half restored truck he felt something lossening in him already. The soft cotton and smooth leather rested easily against his skin and Drake slipped into the forest. Freedom; for the moment at least, blissful freedom. Pushing aside the guilt that accompanied the thought as well as any lingering worries about his charges the youth let his legs carry him through the trees. He shunned the man made paths, following the faint animal trails. This close to the barn they were as clear to him as if they were named city streets. Being animal trails, they invariably led him to water. Today he stopped at a trickling stream, took off his moccasins, and rolled up his pants legs. The youth turned and followed the thin flow of icy water upstream, letting it steal the heat from his body through his feet. Some distance upstream, the stream widened and pooled under a boulder. There Drake paused and pulled an old black compass out of his pocket. Behind him he knew every trail and tree. Ahead was a broad swath of National Wilderness he would have to cross, or possibly Bureau of Land Management or even state managed forests where he more rarely wandered. It was hard to tell where the boundaries were from the ground. The clearing he wanted for the berries was solidly in BLM land and he still had quite a ways to go to get there. The stand of timber that stood between him and his goal was dense with young tree and branches that frequently formed impenetrable hedges he had to track around and he checked his compass regularly as he climbed in elevation. Even so the youth found he had wandered too far off his route and had to correct when he spotted the boundary fence. However he was in no hurry and he reached the clearing long before the sun told him it was time to turn around. Sometime in the past some unknown force had carved a shallow trench across the side of one of the small mountains that that dotted the wilderness. It had puzzled Drake at first. The scour was at the wrong angle to be an old rock slide, and terminated in a near perfectly circular clearing at the lower end. Centuries old Douglas Firs abruptly gave way to a second ring only a few decades old. Those were in turn beginning to produce cones and a smattering of knee high saplings. The rest of the space was completely given over to wildflowers. No matter what season Drake visited it he found a riot of life. There had been an early spring and many herbs that normally would have waited a month or more were already in full bloom in the mountain meadow. A white wave of foamflower washed in from the deep forest surrounding the clearing, sending up knee high stalks covered in the delicate white blooms. Late trillium hid close to the roots of the great firs, many having shed their white corollas and begun to put forth their bulbous seed heads. Fuzzy white baneberry blossoms nodded gently in the breeze. A riot of yellow and purple spread across the ground as vetch and buttercups and a host of clovers competed for space in the open sun. Great stalks of lupine as high as his head thrust up their purple and blue proudly from thick clusters of palm shaped leaves. Pink shooting stars and violet harebells crouched under the protection of the larger plants. Indian paintbrush lit the scene with flames of red and orange. Where a spring seeped into the meadow elephant’s head flared neon pink and corydalis bushes put forth blushing blooms. Pale green wild orchids stood along the wet spot and the swarms of bees danced from them to the glacier lilies. Sometimes, as he bent over a tiny blossom and traced the intricate network of veins in the petals, drank in the scent, and felt the smooth surface of the leaves an otherworldly feeling would come over him. It was as if there was another world just out of range of his senses. If he could only really look, the thin illusion that was blocking him would slip away and reveal the real world underneath it. “Look Awiegwa,” his father would whisper, pointing at a deer mouse perched on a fallen log. “What does it see?” Awiegwa would screw up his face and squint. Trying to find the answer to the question. Awiegwa had often wondered how so many flowers had come to be in the relatively small area. He had identified dozens of species and there were more he had yet to determine. The clearing was always the first place to bloom and the last to go dormant. Many of the flowers seemed to utterly defy their usual blooming patterns. However, as time passed he had simply come to accept it. It was one of the small good things that brought back the memories of his father. If it didn’t quite follow the rules Ama had taught him, well an impossible clearing in the mountains wasn’t a place for rules. The particular bloom that Abuelita had requested had taken full advantage of the early sun and had already put forth a few cobalt blue berries; easily spotted at the edge of the clearing in the delicate sea of white flowers. However before he left the shade of the forest for the meadow the youth paused and closed his eyes. Bole wasn’t always here, but he was often enough that Awiegwa always checked for him. Carefully he reconstructed the clearing in his mind; marking every tree and boulder on the edge. Three years he had been coming here and each time it was easier to recreate the clearing. Breathing evenly he opened his eyes, letting the mental image merge with the actual. There was a brief moment of confusion as details like the play of light through branches and the trembling of small clusters of flowers fixed themselves but there was only one truly jarring note. Awiegwa didn’t let his eyes focus on the disparity; he never did anymore, but a warm smile spread across his features as he slipped silently into the meadow. He was here. As the youth moved in a low crouch, gathering the first fruits of the Queen’s Cup, he let his peripheral vision linger on a particular snag. There was nothing obviously interesting about it, other than the fact that it had not been there the last time Awiegwa was here. He had named the wanderer Bole, because it most often appeared as a thick tree trunk; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Occasionally it would be a boulder or simply a mound in the dirt. Often it wasn’t in the clearing at all. If the youth moved forward and tried to closely examine it he could never find anything to suggest it was something other than a tree or rock. He had thought about taking a sample occasionally, had taken his knife out to do just that more than once, but something always held him back. Bole was a part of this place. Dissecting him would be too much like attempting to dissect his sense of his father’s presence here. The youth had never told anyone about this place, not even Ama with who could get most things out of him easily enough. Down at the house, in town, when he was Drake; solid, reliable, first up in the morning, two grades ahead in school with a penchant for science Drake, a productive member of modern society with a promising future and his mother smiling at him. Here he could be Awiegwa. Here he could believe in the ancient medicines his father had dug out of dusty old tomes and brought to life from the forest litter. Every time Awiegwa left the clearing and headed back towards home reality would reassert itself. Bole would resolve back into a figment of his imagination, created from pride in a somewhat better than average memory and what the social workers had called an “intriguing imagination”. When he reached the house and become solidly Drake again flickers of embarrassment would begin eating at him for letting his senses trick him like that, but as long as the blooms nodded around him in this garden Bole could exist even on a Thursday. The little woven grass bag filled up with the berries fairly quickly and Awiegwa soon stretched out of his crouch and let his gaze wander contentedly over the clearing. As it always did, the warm space was working its special magic. Worries about Em getting out of his schoolwork, of not paying enough attention to the quiet Donny, of letting Ama see his petty resentments: it had all melted away from his muscles, thoughts of college costs and abandoning his duties dissolved into an acute sense of the now. The leaves rustled softly in a barely-there breeze, the heavy scent of some unidentified blossom filled his lungs, a dozen shades of green framed the rainbow of flowers, and over and above it all the creaking of the firs as the wind played over them. It was at times like these that he felth he could almost see into heaven; that something wonderful that existed just beyond his senses, and all he had to do was reach out and claim it. The youth took a deep breath and let himself fall backwards onto a handy rise in the forest floor. His path had taken him to the foot of the snag and he shifted slightly to align himself with the gnarled roots. One hand gripped a time smoothed root. “Ama trusted me enough to go out of state,” he murmured. “That’s the first time she’s done that. Usually she has Abulita stay with us to fend off the Harsh, but she said it’s long past legal now.” It was his imagination of course that made him think the root vibrated in his hand in response. Many a long hour he had spent in this clearing with the wanderer. He had poured out his frustrations and anguishes over life’s injustices, had shared his secrets as he grew, and had shouted his triumphs. Sometimes he felt closer to Bole than to any of his human friends. However, something that sounded like his mother’s voice warned him that there was something odd about this and that awareness was the main reason he had kept this place secret from Ama. Their mother hadn’t exactly liked stuff like that. She had never objected to his father’s digging up the old stories of her people. Making cross generational connections between elders, who more often than not lived isolated lives, and the next generation, was an admirable goal in of itself in her eyes; objectively a social good. Storytelling was only the natural course for these relationships to take, but subtle looks had warned even a very young Drake that it was best to cautious what he shared with his mother. At least of those things that couldn’t be placed on a microscope slide. So this was Awigewa’s place, and while his father’s spirit wanders the flowers with he had never felt his mother here. He let his focus drift up, and up. Dark blue Lupine nodded over his head framing the faint crisscross of jet contrails that threw a light haze over an otherwise cloudless sky. His clothed grew deliciously hot from the spring sun. The ground too had eagerly accepted the energy and now it conducted the heat into the muscles of his back. Bole’s wood beneath him was warmer even than the surrounding ground and an idle thought traced across Awiegwa’s awareness; something about it being odd for the light colored wood and relatively dry wood to retain more heat than the darker soil surrounding it. His mind was filled with the impression of a goal. He had been meaning to do, something. Something fun, yes, exploring, he’d meant to see if whatever had dug that den by the second boulder was cubing this year. He would just get up and do that in a minute. His back was so warm and comfortable. “Flying Sparks” Another foray into the lives of Drake McCarty, Ama Love, and the rest of their siblings as they discover that something alien is out in the forest around their home. https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/flying-sparks-a-novel-of-dragon-bear-and-boy/coming_soon #FlyingSparks #ScienceFiction #Scifi #Story #novel #book #DrakeMcCarty #AmaLove #Donny #Em #Bard #Bole #Aliens #Spaceships #Crystals #fireflies #NPS #NationalPark #Doctor #Sever #family #storm #writing #reading #drama #literature #author #BettyAdams #DyingEmbers #Dragons #ThingsThatGoBoomp #Indiegogo #CrowdFunding

I have a hunting cabin in NH that I spend a lot of time at in the fall, but I'm legally a resident of CT. Can I buy a high capacity magazine in NH with a CT license?

I'm a technical writer. The market is down the toilet right now, and that being the case, I'm job-hunting full time, which includes drafting cover letters and often attending multiple interviews a day. It's a very time-consuming job itself, as many here know. I have an extensive and thorough portfolio, which I was asked to provide in this case after interview 1 and before interview 2.
During interview 2, I was asked what other questions I had. After asking a couple of basic questions about the culture and the project itself, I asked what the rest of the interview process would look like, and I was informed that there would be a "project" and then three additional interviews, to take place as the three individuals found time over the next month. This month would begin after the "project" was complete and reviewed and approved by multiple people.
I asked what this project entailed. As a writer, I'm no stranger to needing to prove my work - that's what the portfolio is for. Sometimes, people don't ask for a portfolio and instead prefer to see my hands-on work in the form of a simple written article about a high-level topic. I've done this, albeit not quite happily, in a couple of cases where it makes sense - for example, one company for whom I would be writing manuals for their products asked me to write a one-page manual on how to operate a microwave. A single page on a topic I was already familiar with - fine, no big deal.
Today's company told me that the ideal candidate would, as soon as our interview call ended, be perusing their public knowledge base immediately. That person would be reviewing the knowledge base (2 interviews in with 3 more and a project left to go before being made an offer, IF one happens, mind you) for areas for improvement in the knowledge base, so they could 'hit the ground running'. He also wanted the ideal candidate to have the voice of the knowledge base internalized by the time an offer was made. The interviewer then told me that the project would involve drafting an entire article specific to their company and specific to the company's voice, which - as he stated - "would only take an hour or so for a skilled writer."
Am I wrong for running for the damn hills?
The ask itself was a bit daunting - he wants me to train myself on the company and their knowledge base, their product, and their voice, well enough to write for them, before I've even gotten halfway through the extremely extensive interview process - but it was the time expectation he gave me that really set off a red flag... one hour? To learn the voice of your knowledge base, learn the details of your product (which I've never heard of before), and - without any resources aside from the knowledge base itself - write you a complete article about a facet of said product, in said voice?
Not on this side of sanity, pal...
Wondering what other people's thoughts on this are... What would you do?