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This is for the guy trying to say not to give money to homeless people flying a sign. This my personal experience from being homeless in Wilmington. I can't say as I speak for everyone, just my experience. 

I'm still homeless, but I've moved out of Wilmington. I had to teach myself how to read and write all over again, and this is what I do now. I hope you enjoy.

 Six-thirty am, I woke up to my alarm. I had to be at work at nine, and I didn't want to be frazzled from being in panic mode on my first day, hurried, and hassled. No, sir. You don't get too many chances to make a first impression. 

 Rolled out of my sleeping bag with a smooth, well practiced motion, unzipped the flap, and made my way out into brisk spring morning air, taking a brief pause, taking in the natural beuaty of the forest. If it hadn't been for the sounds of the highway a few hundred yards away, this scene could have been from a camping trip or hike that I remembered from days gone by. I didn't pause to think about too long due to the urgency to find a suitable tree to relieve myself. Fifty feet, at least. Fifty feet. Otherwise, that smell could come back to haunt you. This wasn't a camping trip but rather where I lived. My homestead, abode, residence, shelter, and as far as I could tell, it would be for a long time to come. 

 I decided to drink my energy drink, which had come to replace my morning cup of brew, outside this fine morn, so I made my way back to the tent and pulled my Monster can and my half full box of handrolled cigarettes from their hiding places, turned around and walked the fifteen feet to my "visiting bench". Aptly named because that's where we all sat when someone came visiting, which wasn't very often, a few feet in front was the small firepit. A hundred or so yards beyond, down a respectable hill, sat Frankies tent, another fifty yards at the split in the trail was Chris's small pup tent, where a small pile of trash meant that Chris and I needed to talk. This was my site, and I had few rules, and trash was something I didn't want to see. 

 According to the rules out here, our social contract, the first person at a campsite was in charge and I had spent the last month of winter all alone here to earn the right to call the shots. After all, it was deemed The Allen Compound for the Criminally Insane by my friend who led a real boots on the ground street outreach in town, someone that I had insane respect for and not a small bit of love. We weren't. I won't speak to insane. 

 I took a seat on the bench, popped the top on the Monster, lit up a smoke, and took a big long pull of the drink. Spring was starting to show now, and the highway was slowly starting to hide behind the new growth of forest. My tent was already invisible from the road thanks to a large camouflaged tarp that I had strung to block the view once I recovered from the panic attack following the discovery of how visible it once was. That discovery came not long after I set up camp, as I was returning from town. Walking down the shoulder of the highway, I just happened to look up in the direction of my camp and saw that my tent sat in the middle of a big clearing of branches, making a perfect frame for my work of art. The realization that thousands of people could have seen that on a daily basis. I was live bait for any psychotic person or persons to visit on a full moon. Recalling the stories of people setting sleeping people on fire for the fun of watching a human cook, I instantly turned on my heels and headed back into town, a spy who just realized he'd been compromised. I didn't return until I had a tarp, but even then, it was some time before sleep came easy. 

 Seven am and the spring sun were now spreading its rays of love to its children in the forest undergrowth, letting everything know it was day shift now in the kingdom. Down below, I spied Frankie, who piled out of his tent and sprinted to a tree like his bladder had caught fire. At the sight of this, I barked three times in greeting. He threw his head back and made a rooster crow, knowing it would wake Chris up long enough to feel the urgency. And by the time I stood up finish the last bit of my morning nectar, sure enough, scrambled out of his tent and instantly let it go right beside where his head would lay when he slept. I shook my head and trudged to my place to change clothes. A light blue polo type short sleeve tucked neatly into my cleanest pair of jeans, then a long sleeve light flannel over that as a precaution, because a lesson learned early is that you dressed for all day. There was no going home to get a coat when the temps plummeted, so it was wise to have that coat ready at all times. I changed my socks, put on my shoes and out of the flap I went. I closed it up and placed a pine needle inside the zipper that would let me know when I got back if anyone had violated my space. 

Seven ten am, and I was on my way. I had fourty minutes to be at the bus stop a little over a mile from the camp and I didn't want to be late, so off I went down the trail, just past Frankies tent I took a left, pausing just long enough to notice that Chris had gone back to bed and left his flap door open, then another fifty yard and over the fence to what I referred to as the 'exposed zone'. There, I was out of the woods walking down a small trail hidden only from the waist down by overgrown weeds and grass. The exposed zone went about a hundred and fifty yards to the shoulder of the highway, where I would merge left, facing the oncoming traffic. At that point, it wouldn't be so obvious to passing cars that I had just emerged from the woods, and the exact spot would no doubt be a mystery. There, my pace stepped up to an average of four miles an hour, something that I had clocked many times, and these days, it was a knowledge that came in handy. I could deal with being homeless, but not tardy. Every minute I walked along the shoulder of the highway, I was fraught with danger, at least in my overactive brain. I could envision cars swerving to miss the car ahead and turning me into a hood ornament, or blowing a tire and taking me out when the driver loses control for that half a second. Maybe something would fall out of the many dump trucks that passed frequently at seventy miles an hour and cleanly decapitate me before I even saw it coming. Why not? It's not like I was having a good luck streak, let's be honest. 

Seven fifty am and I managed to make it to the bus stop with all my organs just where they should be and my head still attached to my body. I lit up a smoke and fished three quarters out of my pocket, ready to pay my way and go to work. The bus pulled up on time, and I climbed aboard, nodding to the driver in solidarity, one working man to the other, dropped my coins of passage into the box, turned and found an empty seat by the window. I watched as the scenery went from historical homes with their gates and carefully tended lawns to the brown crabgrass and dirt yards where the children played in poverty, then to the blocks of businesses where hopes and dreams were born and died, with their big banners proclaiming another last chance at big savings, or let you know that for the twentieth time this furniture store was going out of business and these prices wouldn't last. Nothing but a higher class of a carnival barker. Free financing, limited time only, no interest for ninety days, credit same as cash, act now, last chance to save, overstocked and marked down, employee pricing, never before savings, trade ins welcome, don't miss out, and my all time favorite, below wholesale. Imagine that a business surviving by losing money. The saddest part of it all is that these tactics worked on people. For the second time that morning, I shook my head. 

Eight thirty eight am and the doors open at my destination, my job site, half the bus stood up to depart. Standing up and slipping No. 7 onto my shoulders, I let the line shuffle past me with the knowledge that I had time to spare 

 Eight forty, I stepped off the bus, gravitating to have a smoke with a small group of like-minded people who nodded their approval as I approached. The signal that I was accepted in the circle of debauchery. I made it clear, though, that I had no time to make small talk because I had to go to work and I was a responsible person. On time, it was late, and ten minutes early was on time. That was my motto, starting now, at least. Eight fourty five am I started to the job site, feeling the anxiety butterflies come to life in the pit of my stomach. I had never done this sort of work before, and I hoped I would catch on quick. 

 Eight fifty am, and I was standing beside the exit lane of the Walmart Superstore on a patch of grass where the stopsign was planted, dropping No. 7 to the earth. I bent over and unzipped the section that contained the piece of cardboard. As I put my fingers on it, I felt emotions pour over me, a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and determination. This was my third try at this, but I was determined not to chicken out this time, so, choking everything back down I pulled the sign from my bag and turned to face the cars coming up to the stop sign so I could show them the story of my life, condensed down to some scribbles from a Sharpie which read, 'Traumatic Brain Injury' in large lettering, with a smaller, 'Please Help' below. I'd never felt so alone as I did in that spot light that day at Walmart, that my life had led me to this point, here with a sign begging for money from strangers to get things I needed. It seemed like I couldn't even breathe with my phone service cut off, as I still felt sure that my son would call me at any minute to see how I was, and knowing that life line was severed was unbearable. 

 A grey van with a logo pulled up to the stop sign and I heard one of the doors open, then close, so I turned around to see someone jogging up to me, holding out his hand with a twenty dollar bill pinched in his fingers, "Here you go, brother. Take care of yourself, my man, "then back to the van and was gone. 

I broke. Just like that. I broke.

I know that for example in Japan, they are even installing a barrier to obstruct the view of Mt. Fuji, because the nearby towns are starting to get fed up with an overflow of tourists who stop at one particular spot just to take pictures of the mountain. That is not the only issue with the overflow of tourists within their country, in Kyoto specifically, it is way too crowded. What annoys me the most is them taking pictures of Geisha everywhere, I get it they want to snap a picture, but keep in mind that they are humans and need some space. (They are now issuing a ¥10000 fine for violators.)
During the time Logan Paul visited Japan was the worst, as he went to the suicide forest and recorded footage of a DEAD BODY then proceed to laugh, he took the video down after receiving a ton of backlash. He's not the only one, Johnny Somali also did some shit that landed him in jail, such as entering a construction site, using a random guests room number to get himself 'free' breakfast without realizing that guest will be billed upon them checking out, all due to his stupid actions. Streamers like him who visit Japan are just dumb, taking advantage of others.
Japan is now enforcing stricter rules regarding filiming in public, there are even businesses that forbid both video and photography, so no streaming IRL. In general, Japanese are fed up and pissed off about tourists who disrespect their customs or completely disregard their culture, there are even foreigners who throw trash on the floor (due to Japan not having bins everywhere, even in public, they only exist at designated areas) so you have no choice but to carry your trash with you. They even throw trash not from the konbini into their bins!
Even cities such as Osaka or Hakone are imposing tourism taxes, to curb their presence. Since Japan is one of the countries Westerners fetishize a lot, weeaboos think the country is like anime, but it does not mean that people where act like anime characters. There are instances of foreigners bringing in medication or drugs that are banned or deemed illegal (like medical marijuana / ADHD pills) in Japan but not in their home countries, so that means they are subjected to prison and deportation, like... come on, do some research about the country you are traveling to prior to entering their soil.
In hindsight:

• Does the Netherlands have an over tourism problem? If so, how bad is it?
• Are there instances of behaviors coming from tourists that annoy Dutch people to the point the authorities are cracking down on bad behavior imposing harsher penalties or deportation?
• Do you know any sites that often get photographed way too often that people are considering on creating a barricade to obstruct the view of said place or site?

When did the procedure for obtaining a permit to camp in the state forest road sites? All the foresters just claim, “ReserveAmerica does that now”, except they don’t. There isn’t an option to permit what used to be great dispersed camping.
Any clues to how one gets these permits? (Don’t say ReserveAmerica.com as it just sucks a$$).
EDIT: Speant 30 minutes on the phone with the FD13 office (Elk). Someone on their end just realized ReserveAmerica doesn’t even opt for reserving any of the heretofore free dispersed sites at all! (We have been trying to tell them this since April)
They are calling Harrisburg for clarity on how to proceed.

I sit alone in my room on the seventh floor, writing what will surely be my last will and testament. The heroin which allowed me to forget and to sleep for the last couple of years has lost its power to keep the screaming terrors away. The drug destroyed my body and mind, gradually eating away at them like a corrosive acid. Now I have become a slave to it. And yet, without it, I do not sleep for weeks, but instead continuously see the scenes from that terrible night running through my head on repeat as worsening waves of madness crash on the shores of my consciousness.
In the caverns under the town of Frost Hollow, I found the meaning of true madness. Ever since I escaped that den of horrors, it is difficult to tell what is real and what is only the feverish delirium of an unhinged mind.
Even now, they wait behind the door to this cheap, bare rented room. They drag their claws over the wood. I hear them hissing in that strange, ancient tongue, the one I first heard in the tombs of rock that had been undisturbed for countless millennia.
***
I had first heard rumors of an unexplored cavern from my friend, an experienced caver named Sonia who had explored caverns all over the world. I had been looking for some excitement in my life, some break from the constant monotony and boredom of simply working and sleeping. I had gone caving quite a few times over the year leading up to the trip, but I was not nearly as experienced and had never explored a supposedly virgin passageway of cavern before.
“How do you know no one’s gone down there?” I asked, curious. We sat across from each other at a local diner, getting some early breakfast before our planned descent. The sunrise was still another half-hour away, the sky flat and dark. We would be joined by Sonia’s husband, Phil, who would meet us there shortly after sunrise. I repressed an urge to yawn, chugging half of the steaming hot coffee in one long swallow. Sonia leaned close to me, her nearly colorless blue eyes reminding me of chunks of ice floating down a muddy stream.
“Phil’s friend just found it randomly,” she whispered before glancing around conspiratorially, as if she feared someone would care enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about a cave. “Well, it’s in the middle of a farm, and Phil’s friend, Jack Graysole, owns the entire property and surrounding woods. Jack says he noticed the cows kept going over to a certain spot in the field when it got really hot during the summertime. They would all gather around this little indentation in the grass. After seeing it a few times, Jack got curious and went to investigate what the cows were doing.
“He found a small hole in the ground, almost entirely covered by weeds and grass. He said he felt a cool breeze constantly blowing out of the hole, a breeze that smelled like burning matches and charred metal. After bringing out some shovels and digging down a couple feet, Jack realized that the hole wasn’t a hole at all, but the beginning of a steep passageway leading deep into the bowels of the earth.”
***
The owner of the land decided to unofficially call the newly-discovered cavern Graysole Caverns. Out of respect for him, this is also the name we all used. This is the story of how I found myself in the bowels of a strange subterranean tunnel, a tunnel where creatures beyond my comprehension slunk and hunted, skittering monstrosities who would be more at home in a nightmare.
After grabbing a couple coffees to take with us, Sonia drove over to Graysole Farms. Cows stood out in the grassy fields, huddled in tight circles as they repetitively chewed. The thin silhouette of Jack Graysole waited for us next to the herd. He had a face like a raisin, I thought to myself. I watched his thin, shaking body standing in the middle of an overgrown grassy field. Jack stared down blankly at something only he could see. Sonia and I started unloading some equipment from the car while we waited for Phil.
Once we had the backpacks loaded with some simple supplies, such as water, food, headlamps, rope, a couple extra batteries, some buck knives, and radios, we headed over to accompany Jack. We weren’t taking much, as we didn’t really expect to be down there for more than six or seven hours at the most.
Jack Graysole’s withered old face was as slack and expressionless as that of a corpse. He stared down at the ground as if he were in a trance, waving back and forth slowly on his feet like a plant in a light breeze.
“Jack?” Sonia called out as we approached. I could hear the man’s teeth chattering as we got nearer.
“Hey, what are you doing over here this early? You interested in accompanying us down there?” Sonia joked. But Jack might as well have been totally deaf for all the reaction he gave. Sonia glanced over at me with an anxious expression. I wondered if the old man was having a stroke.
I quickly walked over to where he stood, staring down at a black circular hole about three feet across directly in front of his feet. The entrance to Graysole Caverns stared up at us like a sightless pupil. As I drew within a few feet of Jack and looked straight into his blank eyes, I noticed something alarming.
His pupils were quickly dilating and constricting before my eyes. They would shrink to tiny pinpoints, then, a couple seconds later, rapidly expand until they became dark and serious. I could see his thready, rapid heartbeat pulsating in a vein on the side of his temple. Alarmed, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
Instantly, he came to life, like a man waking up from a nightmare. Shrieking, he looked at me with fully dilated pupils, reminding me of a panicked deer surrounded by wolves. His quavering old man’s voice shook with ineffable existential horror and mortal fear.
He took a step back away from us, seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked around, confused, then straight at me and Sonia. His eyes focused with anger and fear, as if we were demons here to drag him down to Hell. His eyes flicked back and forth between us constantly. Jack raised a trembling hand and pointed it straight at my heart.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His teeth chattered despite the warm spring air. His skin looked deathly pale. “You’re the one who will bring an end to humanity, who will release the ruler of nightmares upon us.” He continued to point accusingly for a long moment at me, his face turning chalk-white. Then his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he stumbled and fell backwards onto the soft grass of the field.
“Jack!” Sonia cried, running over to the old man. Jack’s breaths had started to come in slow, drawn-out gurgles, like a man with a slit throat trying to breathe. Frothy blood bubbled from his lips as they turned blue. Staring up at the endless expanse of cloudless sky, he exhaled one last shuddering breath and died.
***
Phil showed up only a couple minutes later. He found me and Sonia in a state of utter panic, both of us bent double over the still body of Jack. Sonia was on the phone with 911, and I was trying to give Jack chest compressions. The way his fingernails and lips shone with that cyanotic blue cast made me feel sick and weak. I knew it was futile, that I was simply playing with a corpse at this point, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt if I didn’t do something, I might explode.
I heard the faint wailing of sirens approaching as Sonia’s panicked voice continued babbling to the 911 operator. Phil stood by her side, his tall, dark features searching and lost.
“Oh God, I think he’s dead!” Sonia cried over and over to the operator, as if she thought the operator could do anything about it. I didn’t hear what the operator said in response. As the ambulance pulled in, I gave up on chest compressions. I stood up and took a step back, looking sadly down on the kindly old man’s dead body.
The paramedics ran over. Phil, Sonia and I stood back while they worked on the corpse, trying to shock the heart back into life. But Jack’s open eyes stayed glazed as they stared sightlessly up into eternity.
***
The paramedics left. A couple police officers stayed behind to ask us a few routine questions. Eventually, after an hour or so, they left, too.
“What a fucked-up day,” Phil said, shaking his head grimly. “Do you guys still want to do this? Maybe it’s an omen from God telling us to go home.” Sonia and I exchanged a glance, then we both nodded at the same time.
“Definitely,” she said. “It’s sad what happened to Jack, but realistically, we don’t know what’s going to happen to this property now that he’s passed away. It might get sold or taken by the bank for all we know. This could be our one and only chance to explore this cave.”
“I don’t believe in omens. I’m still down,” I said, feeling slightly sick from the experience. I still remembered how Jack’s body had cracked under the weight of my chest compressions, how his ribs had snapped like bones shattering in greedy hands. “We’ll do it in memory of Jack. I plan to put this up on YouTube.” I pulled my GoPro out of my bag, turning it on. Phil groaned at that.
“Do we have any idea how far down this cave goes?” Phil asked. I felt a sense of relief now that the topic had changed from the death of the old man.
“I sent a little camera down on a rope, but it only went about a hundred feet,” Sonia responded. “It’s pretty steep at first, then it levels out. I couldn’t really see much after it leveled out, but it looks like it should be easy to climb down. There’s plenty of handholds, lots of jutting rocks.”
Phil put on his headlamp and small pack. As he crawled down into the hole, his tanned face looked up at us and gave us one last devilish grin. Once he had gone down a few dozen feet, Sonia started descending. She looked excited and happy. I noticed how she couldn’t stop smiling as she disappeared from view.
I watched their lights grow smaller and dimmer in the circular tunnel. I marveled at how perfectly circular the entrance was. It almost didn’t even look natural.
Taking a deep breath in, I followed my friends down into the dark.
***
“This isn’t too bad,” I said as I climbed down. The jutting rocks gave plenty of handholds and footholds for us. It wasn’t so tight that it felt like a coffin, either.
“It only gets easier from here!” Sonia called up.
“How do you know?” I asked. “You said you’ve never been here before.” She laughed.
“I know. Probably just wishful thinking,” she said. Far below us, Jack’s voice drifted up, faint and weak. He had already reached the bottom.
“The tunnel really opens up down here, guys,” he called. “It’s somewhat… bizarre, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonia asked. I looked down, seeing Sonia and I would reach the bottom in seconds. “Forget it, I’ll let it be a surprise.” I heard her drop down. Slowly and carefully, I lowered myself down the last few feet. There was a short fall onto a smooth granite floor. I looked up, seeing what Phil and Sonia were so mesmerized by.
“Oh, wow,” I said, speechless. I blinked rapidly, wondering if the image would clear like a mirage. The tunnel was cut into a perfectly triangular shape, each side about seven feet long. The ceiling met in a point above our heads.
All along the smooth walls of gray rock, I saw thousands of black orbs peeking out. They looked similar to obsidian, but they were perfectly smooth and circular, each about the size of an orange. They were formed into interlocking diagonal patterns and followed the tunnel straight down as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” Sonia asked, taking a tentative step forward. I looked up, seeing the distant pinpoint of sunlight far above our heads. Our voices continued to echo off down the massive tunnels, disappearing in eerie waves into the thick curtain of shadows.
“Are you recording all this?” Phil asked me. I laughed, giddy.
“Of course! This is internet gold right here,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that this isn’t man-made, however. I can’t even believe it. Do you think Jack was playing a joke on us or something?”
“Jack had the sense of humor of a wet paper towel,” Phil whispered, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Well, let’s go check it out,” Sonia said, taking a step forward. Her headlamp bobbed up and down rapidly, throwing dancing shadows through the triangular tunnel. It continued straight ahead, without the slightest deviation or curve, disappearing off into a dark point in the distance.
***
We walked as fast as we could, excited to see where, if anywhere, the strange tunnel led. Phil, always the conspiracy theorist, babbled excitedly.
“This has to be aliens, man,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I bet that scientists will find out this shit is millions of years old when we get back up and tell everyone. Maybe aliens came to earth in ancient times and made a bunch of stuff underground.” Gradually, as we walked, I noticed the tunnel opening up. The pointed triangular ceiling rose up higher above our heads and the walls moved outwards, as we were walking up a triangular funnel. At first, it was so subtle that I didn’t believe it when Sonia pointed it out.
“No, look,” she said, raising her hand above her head. “When we first started down this weird tunnel, my fingers were only maybe a foot away from the top. Now it’s a couple feet.” I was about to respond when our headlamps illuminated something standing in the middle of the tunnel.
“What the fuck is that?” I whispered, stopping cold in my tracks. Phil and Sonia looked up at the abomination at the same time. Its back was to us. It stood nearly as tall as the tunnel, which was now about twenty feet high.
The bottom half looked black and spidery with dozens of long, jointed legs. A bloody, white spine rose out of the mass of legs. Inhumanly long, skeletal arms stretched out in front of it. Its face was pointed away from us, but the back of its head resembled an enormous pointed skull with deep fissures like the cracks of an earthquake running through the bone. The abomination stayed as still as a statue, and for a long moment, I wondered if we were looking at some macabre work of art.
Then, suddenly, one of its insectile legs twitched. A moment later, the other legs started jerking and twisting. There was a sound like bones shattering as it rose up to its full height, turning around to face us.
Its face was like something from a nightmare, melting and reforming constantly like dripping candle wax. I would see a black eye appear on its forehead, then a grinning mouth on its chin, then the features would get sucked back into the folds of melting flesh. After a few moments, two enormous eyes appeared on its face, dark and cold like craters on the surface of the Moon. The mouths and noses disappeared back into the dripping skin, and only the two lidless eyes remained, emanating a cold, reptilian consciousness beyond the ability of my mind to comprehend. I felt terror radiating from its body like freezing waves.
“Free me,” it cried in a gurgling voice that seethed with insanity. It had a shrieking, metallic ringing behind every word that gave it an alien quality. “Free me, and I will give you the waters of eternal life. Within me, I contain the seeds of immortality. Within the nightmares, we live forever, always together, never alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked, terrified. The black reptilian skin of the enormous beast glistened as it knelt down, its massive face drawing near to mine. A sideways mouth burst out of the liquified flesh, showing hundreds of fangs growing like tumors from its white, bloodless gums. The fangs varied in size from only a couple inches to long, sword-like projections that stabbed into the creature’s flesh, causing white blood glittering with rainbows to fall like raindrops all around me.
“I have many names,” it hissed, its thousand voices rising and falling in crashing waves of sound. “I was present at the beginning, when this planet was no more than dead cliffs and endless freezing oceans. Those holy ones who search for us, the ancient ones, call me Niralahoth.”
“How do we free you?” Phil asked, looking terrified. He held Sonia’s hand tightly.
“By letting me into your mind and body,” Niralahoth cried, shaking the cavern. “I was thrown down here, cursed and forgotten. I cannot leave this place of shadows within this body. But in the body of another, my consciousness can be free, and the seeds of new life can spread beyond this prison.”
“There’s no way anyone’s going to do that,” I said, my eyes widening as Niralahoth’s reptilian skull turned towards me in fury. “I mean, you’re asking one of us to give up our individuality, our lives, right?”
“I am asking you to become one with me and gain power undreamt of by mortals,” it cried. “I have within me the fountain of life, the waters that send death away screaming.” I glanced anxiously at Phil and Sonia, wondering if we would have to run.
“The answer is no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we can’t do that,” Phil said, backing me up. “But, anyways, I think our trip has ended. It’s time to turn around…”
“You will never return,” Niralahoth cried, skittering away from us. “If you will not accept salvation, then you must accept death.” Within seconds, it slunk away from us, backpedaling on its many skittering legs into the shadows.
***
All around us, a rumbling started.
There was a pounding that crashed through the rock tunnel, as if an insane blacksmith were hammering on a massive anvil. The ringing of crashing rock started off slowly, with a few stones smashing down around us with heavy blasts of sound. Within seconds, the cacophony sped up, rising into a constant stream of destruction. The black orbs were spinning in place all up and down the tunnel, their glossy obsidian surfaces flashing with sparks of blue light.
“It’s collapsing!” Phil cried, running back in the direction we came, holding Sonia’s hand as she tried to keep up with him. I could only stare for a long moment, not sure what to do. It seemed that the direction Phil was heading stood closer to total collapse.
“Wait!” I cried, but my voice was drowned out in the destruction all around us. I felt a rock smash into my shoulder, sending me down to my feet. I heard Phil give a scream of pain, then another stone came down and smashed into my forehead. I remember seeing everything spinning around me as the world went black.
***
I awoke to find my headlamp still shining straight up in the dusty tunnel. Large chunks of the tunnel had slid out of place and crashed to the stone floor. The granite chunks that had fallen looked unnaturally smooth, most of them in the shapes of cylinders or cubes and varying in size from that of an egg to that of a small car.
My head throbbed. It felt as if a tight belt of fire were wrapped around my temples. Groaning, I put my fingers up to my forehead. They came away slick with blood.
Slowly, I started pushing myself up on my feet. I was relieved that nothing seemed broken. I had a deep gash running from the center of my scalp down to my left temple and some shallower cuts on my shoulders and back, but I knew none of that was life-threatening.
“Sonia?” I whispered, my voice coming out weak and strained. I reached into my pack and found a bottle of water. I chugged it quickly in one long swallow.
“Phil?” I cried again, this time stronger. I heard a soft weeping nearby. Staggering, I followed the sound.
Sonia was bloody and covered in cuts and scrapes, sitting next to Phil’s prone form. I saw Phil’s right arm pinned under a massive slab of granite. His arm disappeared from the elbow down in a spreading puddle of thick, dark blood.
“Oh God, Max, I think he’s hurt really bad,” she wept. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly in his head, his face pale and bloodless. I looked down the way we had come, seeing the entire tunnel blocked by large slabs of stone, many with strange, black orbs peeking out like the lenses of cameras.
***
I don’t know how much time passed. My phone died after a day, and then we were counting the endless darkness in breaths and tears.
Phil swam in and out of consciousness as his arm putrefied and blackened around the crush site. After a couple days, Sonia and I agreed that something had to be done. We told Phil we would need to amputate his arm. He was half-delirious, but he came back long enough to understand us and nod weakly.
We made a fire with Phil’s pack, trying to find fuel to throw in it to get it roaring. As it grew, I saw one of the black orbs near the flames abruptly ignite, as if it had been covered in gasoline. Blue, almost colorless flames rose from its surface. We started throwing the small black orbs on the fire until it rose high in the air. I sanitized the buck knife with the flames and pulled a rope tourniquet tight around Phil’s arm. He was conscious but seemingly insane, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“How are we going to get the car started without a key?” he gurgled to someone only he could see. “We need to look around. It has to be here somewhere.”
“Phil, can you hear me, bud? We need to fix your arm. We need to get you out of this mess. OK?” I said as comfortingly as I could. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly, but they didn’t meet my own. I sighed and looked over at Sonia.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving a grim nod.
I pulled the buck knife out, slicing quickly down through the flesh next to the tourniquet. His veins throbbed like fat worms as the blackened, necrotic skin split easily under the blade, releasing a rancid-smelling gas that hissed out of the wound.
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to slice all the way through the arm. It felt like I was stuck in that hellish task forever. Phil’s eyes rolled in his head as his skin turned the color of clotted milk.
“God, Jesus, make it stop,” Phil whispered over and over, exhaling ragged, pain-filled breaths. The blood spurted from the blackened, dying tissue all over the dust-covered cavern floor, covering my hands in its warm, slick embrace.
After what was probably only three or four minutes, but felt like hours, I had sliced all the way down to the bone. The infected tissue of his arm spurted great gouts of orange pus mixed with rivulets of blood. The hard part was over.
Standing up, I took my steel-toe sneaker and stomped down on his arm as hard as I could. Phil cried out in a powerful voice, as if all the agony and suffering in the world was contained in that one shriek. The bone snapped under my weight with a sound like a tree branch cracking. A moment later, Phil rolled away from the rock that had pinned me in place for so long. Something alien and spongy was shoved into my face, a mass of destroyed red tissue pulsating in time with a runaway heartbeat. At first, shell-shocked and revolted, my mind couldn’t comprehend that I was looking at the stump of Phil’s mutilated arm. I hardened my heart and forced the giddiness and madness to the back of my mind. The time had come to cauterize the wound.
“Sonia, give it to me,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I reached out a hand towards her, a hand stained with Phil’s blood. It looked as if I were wearing a wet, crimson glove. Sonia only stared blankly at me for a long moment, however. A surge of anger ran up my chest.
“Sonia, toughen the fuck up! He’s going to die if you just sit there!” I swore at her, hearing my deep, angry voice bounce around the caverns. Sonia pulled back, as if she were struck. Inwardly, I cursed having a woman as my only able-bodied companion in this situation. She was a competent enough caver, but what would happen if violence and blood came over us? What would happen if, or more realistically when, we needed to fight?
Grimly, Sonia leaned forward and yanked the burning black orb out of the roaring fire, handing it to me on the end of a buck knife that had just barely pierced its hard, strange exterior. The handle of the knife felt coarse and splintery under my filthy skin. I put it to the spongy stump of Phil’s arm. The stump twitched violently. Phil tried to pull away as black smoke rose from the burning flesh.
There was a smell like bacon sizzling. The searing meat of Phil’s arm blackened and crisped under the heat of the orb, which had become no more than a cylinder of glowing blue embers by this point. I felt simultaneously sick and giddy. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or vomit. I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of madness, that the stress and insanity of the experience had started to shatter my mind.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to go into a seizure for a few seconds. With a long exhalation of breath, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness. It’s hard to admit it, even this close to the end, but a small, sick piece of me was jealous of Phil. Most likely, he would be dead soon, maybe within hours, while Sonia and I would slowly starve and dehydrate like animals over a period of weeks. I looked at her lithe body and soft skin, seeing the feminine curves of her hips and chest. She was a beautiful woman. I knew Phil to be a lucky man. At least, before this trip, he was.
I watched her body, wondering if I had what it took to eat her or Phil if I had to. Did I have an iron heart that would allow me to slice into my friends and consume their raw, cold flesh? Perhaps, by that point, it would be hunger and madness driving me forward, and I wouldn’t even hesitate. I shuddered at the very thought.
***
I fell asleep that night, having strange dreams of massive gods with melting faces sitting in judgment in a circle around me. We had very little food or water left. No one knew we were down here. Rescue was not coming.
When I awoke, I found myself alone. Phil had died from his injuries while I slept, the black streaks of septic shock spreading up his arm towards his heart. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the rock ceiling.
“Sonia?” I called out, my heart racing as I sat up. “Where are you?” My headlamp was growing dim. I looked in my pack, realizing I was on the last of my batteries. I saw a silhouette walking out of the darkness, the thin, pale form of Sonia. She was trembling badly.
“I saw them,” she said. “Niralahoth and its priests. The priests aren’t human. They look reptilian with sideways mouths and too many eyes.” She shuddered.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Her eyes grew distant.
“You know we’re not getting out of here alive,” she said. “Not on our own. I wanted to see what it offered. It says that if we take a piece of its nightmare into us, we will gain the power to leave this place, that it simply wants to see the surface and spread its nightmares there.” I shook my head.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “We’d be better off dead.” Sonia nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” she responded grimly. I didn’t realize what she meant until the next day, when I woke up and found her hanging next to Phil’s body, her tongue swollen and blue as it poked out of her cyanotic lips. And then I was truly alone.
***
Soon after Sonia committed suicide, the last of the batteries for the headlamp died. I had run out of food and had only a small sip of water left. I don’t know how much time passed in the darkness, starving and raving, following the tunnel by running my hands over the walls. I heard many things skittering in the darkness, and a few times, I heard the demonic voice of Niralahoth as it split and distorted.
“You are on death’s door,” it hissed. “Will you not drink from the fountain of life?” I couldn’t tell where the voice came from in the maddening blackness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. I had lost nearly all of my sanity in that pit of shadows by this point. I tried laughing constantly to keep my spirits up, and when that failed, I simply cried.
“I’ll do it,” I wailed. “I’ll do it. Just let me see the sky again. Get me out of here, Niralahoth.” Everything went deathly silent all around me, then a laugh rang out like the grinding of glass.
In front of me, I saw a tornado of fire descending from the ceiling, surrounding the massive, spidery form of Niralahoth. It rose its skeletal arms upwards, as if it were Zeus calling down lightning. In the sudden brightness, I saw the fiery form of snakes slithering and centipedes skittering forwards in that tornado, each massive creature sculpted from flames in the spinning cyclone of energy. Niralahoth reached into the tornado of fire with its sharp points of fingers and plucked something small from it. The fire instantly dissipated. In its hand, I saw a tiny, swirling orb that looked like it contained a firestorm within it.
“The nightmare seed,” Niralahoth gurgled as it skittered forward towards me. I could only stare, open-mouthed and starving. I hadn’t slept for days, it felt like, and everything seemed slow and unreal.
In a blur, its skeletal arm shot out and forced the orb into my mouth. Despite the fire raging within it, it felt freezing cold. As it touched my tongue, it gave off a sensation like frostbite all throughout my mouth. I screamed and tried spitting it out, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It started liquifying, dripping down my throat.
I felt something cancerous and sick spreading throughout my body, radiating out from my heart and stomach to every inch of it. I tried to scream, but it caught behind my teeth. I fell to my knees, clawing at my face as that insane, alien laugh continued resounding all down the tunnel. I fell unconscious and woke up under a beautiful sky in the fields of Graysole Farms.
***
Soon after, I realized that my life would never be the same. Everywhere I went, I could hear the wailing voice of Niralahoth. Behind the trees, I always saw skittering shadows, creatures with long, spidery legs that stalked me every day and night. I slept with every light in the house turned on, yet when I woke up, they would all be shut off, and I would find myself in darkness, next to something in the bed with far too many legs and a face that dripped like burning wax.
I sold everything I owned and tried to move far away, to give as much distance between myself and those cursed caverns as I could, but the nightmares followed me like a shadow. I realize what a fool I was in those ephemeral moments of madness. Sonia was much wiser than myself; I should have killed myself or died rather than allowing that thing inside of me.
Even now, I can feel it creeping through my heart, spreading through my blood. I feel it trying to crawl its way out of my throat, the thin, black legs peeking out at the back of my esophagus.
I only hope that, when I finally jump and feel my bones shatter against the concrete far below, I will kill whatever is inside of me. For I fear the consequences for the world if it were to escape.

I know that for example in Japan, they are even installing a barrier to obstruct the view of Mt. Fuji, because the nearby towns are starting to get fed up with an overflow of tourists who stop at one particular spot just to take pictures of the mountain. That is not the only issue with the overflow of tourists within their country, in Kyoto specifically, it is way too crowded. What annoys me the most is about them taking pictures of Geisha everywhere, I get it they want to snap a picture, but keep in mind that they are humans and need some space. (They are now issuing a ¥10000 fine for violators.)
During the time Logan Paul visited Japan was the worst, as he went to the suicide forest and recorded footage of a DEAD BODY then proceed to laugh, he took the video down after receiving a ton of backlash. He's not the only one, Johnny Somali also did some shit that landed him in jail, such as entering a construction site, using a random guests room number to get himself 'free' breakfast without realizing that guest will be billed upon them checking out, all due to his stupid actions. Streamers like him who visit Japan are just dumb, taking advantage of others.
Japan is now enforcing stricter rules regarding filiming in public, there are even businesses that forbid both video and photography, so no streaming IRL. In general, Japanese are fed up and pissed off about tourists who disrespect their customs or completely disregard their culture, there are even foreigners who throw trash on the floor (due to Japan not having bins everywhere, even in public, they only exist at designated areas) so you have no choice but to carry your trash with you. They even throw trash not from the konbini into their bins!
In hindsight:

• Does Greece have an over tourism problem? If so, how bad is it?
• Are there instances of behaviors coming from tourists that annoy Greek people to the point the authorities are cracking down on bad behavior imposing harsher penalties or deportation?
• Do you know any sites that often get photographed way too often that people are considering on creating a barricade to obstruct the view of said place or site?

Hello, everyone! My name is Kyra. I’m a line and copy editor working on fiction manuscripts for indie authors and small publishers. My experience is largely within fantasy, romance, horror, and historical fiction—but I'm open to all types of stories.
For every editing package, I'll complete a FREE sample edit of up to 2,000 words. If you'd like to reach out my email is [kyrarogerseditorial@outlook.com](mailto:kyrarogerseditorial@outlook.com), and you can find my qualifications, pricing, process, and sample work on my site: www.kyrarogerseditorial.com. My Instagram is kyrarogerseditorial.
If you’re on a budget, I'm open to partial edits and payment plans. All clients receive complimentary editing on blurbs, synopses, and query letters. I'm more than happy to offer support and guidance on your publishing journey! :)
My turnaround time for a 50,000-word manuscript is 2–3 weeks from the start date. Larger manuscripts could take upwards of 3 weeks.
\EARLIEST AVAILABILITY IS JULY 8TH**

Hi everyone, over the last few months I have improved the google presence of my site with google and I'm really interested to see if I can apply the lessons I've learnt to other industries.
If anyone is struggling with Google presence I would be interested to see if I can help out, totally free, to validate some of my strategies! Leave a comment below or drop me a message if you're interested!

My grandpa bought the disc for cities Skylines 2 in a store, he's not good with technology at all but sometimes still enjoys playing Anno 1800. Cities Skylines 2 requires 2 diferent acounts to run, including steam that is needed on your PC.
I now told him to try refunding it in the store, since the PC is really to weak for the game, but it's still just insane. Navigating through 2 launchers (steam and the paradox Launcher) just two play is insanity. While I write this cities Skylines 1 is downloading from a safe piracy site. I got the game legally for him over Epic games when it was free there, but the cracked version is better for him once I installed it and made the desktop shortcut.
He won't have to deal with acount logins and the terible non working offline mode from epic games whenever the internet is not working (in germany that hapens more often then it should).
In short, legal ways for playing games are geting so complicated with all the acount bullshit that I pirated a game for my grandpa he legally owns.
It would be funny if it wasn't so sad.

Unlike most people, I enjoy scrolling through LinkedIn, Monster, Ziprecruiter and other top recruitment sites looking for jobs. I thought maybe some of you would be busy and would like the assistance in job hunting (both remote and onsite) What I need from you:- -$5 -The kind of jobs you are interested in. -Your skills and experience(past roles). What I promise you:- -A list of 10 high quality jobs you can apply. -A brief summary of each job and why I think you qualify and should apply. No upfront payment until I have completed the job. Feel free to send a PM or Chat. Thank you.

Unlike most people, I enjoy scrolling through LinkedIn, Monster, Ziprecruiter and other top recruitment sites looking for jobs. I thought maybe some of you would be busy and would like the assistance in job hunting (both remote and onsite)
What I need from you:- -$5 -The kind of jobs you are interested in. -Your skills and experience(past roles).
What I promise you:- -A list of 10 high quality jobs you can apply. -A brief summary of each job and why I think you qualify and should apply. No upfront payment until I have completed the job. Feel free to send a PM or Chat. Thank you.

https://preview.redd.it/d8ic9ftyss1d1.png?width=1597&format=png&auto=webp&s=c77df7e58feaaeb01cecd974fc2f2f2062c612c7
I tried opening the options of a chrome extension and this was what opened.

Unlike most people, I enjoy scrolling through LinkedIn, Monster, Ziprecruiter and other top recruitment sites looking for jobs. I thought maybe some of you would be busy and would like the assistance in job hunting (both remote and onsite) What I need from you:- -$5 -The kind of jobs you are interested in. -Your skills and experience(past roles). What I promise you:- -A list of 10 high quality jobs you can apply. -A brief summary of each job and why I think you qualify and should apply. No upfront payment until I have completed the job. Feel free to send a PM or Chat. Thank you.

Greetings, fellow designers and creators!
I have a diverse background in film, art, business, and the tech sphere, and I am passionate about pushing the boundaries of design. Today, I am reaching out to this amazing community to get some honest and constructive feedback on my UI/UX portfolio, BradyUX.com.
What I'm Looking For:

• Honest Feedback: Don't hold back! I want to know what works and what doesn't.
• Constructive Criticism: How can I improve my designs? Are there elements that need rethinking?
• User Experience Insights: How does the site feel to navigate? Are there pain points or areas of confusion?
• Visual Appeal: Does the aesthetic resonate with you? Is it cohesive and engaging?
• Technical Feedback: Any thoughts on the functionality and responsiveness?

About Me:

• Background: My journey spans across film, art, business, and tech, allowing me to bring a unique perspective to my designs.
• Experience: I aim to create seamless and engaging user experiences that resonate deeply with users.
• Current Focus: I am currently working on an exciting project called 'End of Step 2024' for the 1st90 app, incorporating innovative elements and an AI assistant named FooziAI.

Why I Need Your Help: Your feedback is invaluable to me. Whether you're a seasoned UI/UX designer or just someone with a keen eye for detail, your input will help me grow and refine my work. I am committed to evolving as a designer, and your honest critiques will guide me on this journey.
Please take a moment to visit BradyUX.com and share your thoughts. Feel free to be as detailed as possible – I am here to learn and improve.
Thank you for your time and insights. Let's make this an engaging and enriching discussion!
Best regards, Brady

I have an industry job at a mid sized ~$100MM company. Every single last member of upper management:

1. Works 5 days on site
2. Either comes in before me or stays after I leave. In some cases both.
3. Works after hours remotely (I see the emails)
4. Works weekends remotely
5. Skips lunch or eats while working at their desk

Year round, with no summer hours. Some departments at the company are allowed to work remote, but not most of us. In accounting, people who work remote are viewed as kind of lazy/ not really working a full day.
Am I just being a lazy zillennial bum or is this a toxic work environment? In other words, is this what I have to look forward to no matter where I go? I’m still in the entry level, but in another year or two I’d have enough experience to apply to mid level positions. I like my job, but I already work 9 hour days and frequently skip lunch. I kind of can’t fathom having even less free time in my day.

Hi,
I’m attempting to get a website made for some physical products I sell.
Please appreciate I’ve had an ongoing interest in computing my whole life but am in no terms an expert in anything, especially web development of which I have close to no experience with. I can appreciate my lack of knowledge in this field and appreciate any input. Please assume I know nothing and am asking the entirely wrong questions.
It’s a site I expect will generate a bit of organic traffic as it’s a niche product you wouldn’t necessarily go to Amazon or eBay for and feel like payment processing is required for both convenience and product legitimacy.
From some cursory research I think I’ve decided to settle with a self hosted (Not a physical server I’m running, just managing and in control of) WordPress site that uses WooCommerce and Stripe.
As it’s a niche product I think there’s some chance I can do well with SEO and probably AdWords.
My main questions are about the architectural choices I’m making and whether or not they will turn out to be more trouble than they are worth down the line.
It might be helpful to list some of the assumptions I’ve made:

1. More devs are familiar with WP and it’s a lot quicker to build out sites therefore cheaper compared to websites built from the ground up - Also if I need a different person to change it up in the future, it’ll be easier as it isn’t custom made.
   
2. WooCommerce and Stripe are cheap, well supported, well known and integrate with WP easily.
   
3. Building out a WP site as opposed to paying for something like Shopify yearly, isn’t a false economy, if managed, perpetually.
   

Considering themes and plugins. What I want out of the website is for it to be fast loading, not full of bloat, good for SEO, easy to work on and security conscious where possible. Some plugins I understand are necessary and what makes WordPress a quick and easy tool to work with in the first place but I’d like to keep them to a functional minimum.
Aside question: What are the main vectors for security compromise? I’d have to assume it’s abandoned plugins, plugins turned malicious, databases and insecure forms? In this context is there a distinction between plugins and themes or are they equal problem areas?
// Plugins
I want to keep plugins to a bare minimum as mentioned for performance and security reasons.
Yoast or Rank Math - Both apparently offer the same thing and seem well known within the community. I feel these are tools that I could make use of as I would like to rank on search engines. Is there a big value difference between the plugins themselves and also with the paid versions?
WP Rocket - I don’t understand caching and how it works but this plugin seems popular and apparently helps quite a lot with load times which I can appreciate as a massive value add.
WooCommerce - A necessary condition if I want ecommerce functionality.
PCI compliance - What is this, is it necessary and if so how do it build it in, in a sensible way?
Analytics plugins
See bottom of post - re: Compliance
Any plugins of value that I’ve missed or should I be right with these?
// Themes
Themes aren’t something I know a lot about. I assume they have a huge effect on page load times and also assume that the more well known themes would be easier for a larger designedeveloper base to work on as they are probably already familiar with them.
Themes I’ve heard thrown around a lot are Elementor and Astra. Am I right in seeing Elementor as more of a page builder lots of WordPress devs can use to “Make their own themes” and Astra as just a straight up theme?
If demanding Astra, am I taking a position of restricting the creative liberty of the designer at the ostensibly safer and/or more optimised Astra theme? Or have I got this wrong? Admittedly I have done very little research on WordPress themes and any input here would be much appreciated.
// Backups
UpdraftPlus - Looks to be a plugin that’ll backup and export data out. What are the security considerations here? Any value to the paid version?
Are there other plugins that do a better job, cheaper?
// Security
For my small ecom website, are these security plugins bloat or value?
Sucuri
Wordfence
Are the premium versions worth it? Have I missed any ?
// Legal and compliance
I don’t know much about tracking and marketing but assume I’ll want to pursue social media marketing in the future. Am I right in assuming I should be implementing tracking pixels and analytics from the get go?
As stated, I assume I’ll want to run Facebook tracking pixels. Is there a particular plugin or way I should be implementing them into a WP site?
Analytics. What’s the distinction between Google site kit, Google tag manager, GA4 etc. I presume I’ll need a plugin for this.
Cookies, privacy policies and notices - I don’t want pop ups but I want to be compliant where I need to. If pop ups are completely necessary is there a way to have them only pop for people visiting from areas that require it? Can I segment this to it’s own page?
PCI Compliance
Still not entirely sure what this entails - I understand it pertains to payment processing?
// Hosting
As I understand it these shouldn’t be in the scope of the web dev proposal and I’ll take responsibility for their implementation.
Any recommendations for hosts? Load speed and uptime are critical and pricing comes secondary to me.
The business is located in Australia but I would like decent access from around the globe.
Cloudflare. I’m still not entirely sure what they offer. As I understand, they run a huge part of the internet's infrastructure and offer DNS servers, DDOS protection and have vast CDN’s. Should I be using their services which I think are free? Am I subjecting people using VPN’s to constant captchas? Am I missing what other offerings they have? By virtue of using their DNS servers, am I using their CDN’s? And what value might I realise from them?
In general what conclusions should I walk away with?
WP needs to be constantly maintained but offers more flexibility?
WP if it isn’t maintained will break and have constant security issues?
WP will allow me to realise cheaper and faster website development on account of it’s frameworks, plugins and popularity within the community?
Anything I’ve missed?
Sorry for the massive post but I’m pretty new to this and just trying to cover all the bases.
Appreciate any wisdom and I’m more than willing to buy you coffee if you DM me
Thanks heaps

Does anyone have recommendations for where I could car camp / camp in Monongahela National Forest in the Seneca Rocks area for free? It looks like all the reservable sites are booked and we'll be coming in late so probably won't get a FCFS site.
A group of us will be going out there, where some of the group will sleep in the car and some of us will pitch a tent. None of us have ever done dispersed camping so we're unsure if there are spots in the Seneca Rocks area that are convenient for a group to pitch a tent next to the car.

Does anyone have recommendations for where I could car camp / camp in MNF in the Seneca Rocks area for free? It looks like all the reservable sites are booked and we'll be coming in late so probably won't get a FCFS site.
A group of us will be going out there, where some of the group will sleep in the car and some of us will pitch a tent. None of us have ever done dispersed camping so we're unsure if there are spots in the Seneca Rocks area that are convenient for a group to pitch a tent next to the car.

Attempt #1 + First 300 Words
Attempt #2
Hello again!
This is likely my last attempt until the book is fully completed and ready for querying, but I wanted to see if I'm on the right track after incorporating all the great feedback I got on the last two versions!
Change log: - I honed in more on Ishana's motivations and stakes, making it super clear right off the bat and then tying it back into her interest in Marko in the third blurb paragraph. - I went back to "cozy fantasy with romance elements" because the plot doesn't follow the expected romance beats closely enough for me to feel confident calling it "cozy romantasy". - I changed my bio paragraph to explain why this story is important to me and why I'm qualified to write it/passionate about its subject matter.
Thanks in advance for your time!!

Query

Dear [AGENT],
If socialite witch Ishana Patel can’t find a suitable husband before her fast-approaching thirtieth birthday, she faces an arranged marriage or social and financial exile. When an unexpected letter of inheritance from her estranged grandfather names her the new proprietor of The Bookery, an Arcane bookshop, Ishana seizes the opportunity to fund her continued independence. She moves into one of The Bookery’s two on-site apartments and lists the shop for sale.
In the other on-site apartment lives Dominic “Nicky” Noone, an Ordinary pastry chef who runs his bakery out of the bookshop. Nicky’s childhood passed with a series of foster families, making The Bookery the closest he’s ever come to a proper home. Ishana’s plan to sell the shop leaves him feeling once more like that unwanted little boy with nowhere to belong. So when the bakery’s massive wood-fired oven scares off potential buyers by spitting sparks and belching smoke, Ishana suspects the baker who seems as sweet as his confections is sabotaging her.
But the misbehaving oven doesn’t deter local real estate mogul Marko Zimmler. Suave, wealthy, and brimming with magical energy, Marko is exactly the sort of wizard Ishana should marry. Despite her growing affection for Nicky, she entertains Marko’s flirtations—until a fugitive phoenix emerges from the bakery’s oven to expose Marko’s macabre hobby. Realizing that Marko considers Ishana nothing more than a trophy to be won, The Bookery’s residents hatch a risky plan that will either free Ishana from her social binds or trap her forever in a gilded cage.
THE BOOKERY is a cozy fantasy novel with romance elements presented for your consideration because [PERSONALIZATION]. Boasting the quaint magical charm of Studio Ghibli films like Kiki’s Delivery Service and Howl’s Moving Castle, THE BOOKERY will delight readers of Kate Johnson’s Hex Appeal and T.J. Klune’s The House in the Cerulean Sea. A standalone novel with series potential, THE BOOKERY is complete at [WORD COUNT] words.
I grew up in the Deep South chained by ultra-conservative, old-fashioned ideals of womanhood. Much like Ishana, I refuted my traditionalist upbringing and forged my own path in life. I now work as a software engineer outside Atlanta, where I live with my husband and the many pets we love like children.
The full manuscript of THE BOOKERY is available upon request.
[AUTHOR] (she/her)

basically i downloaded a game (torrent) ( alice madness returns) from a pretty shady site, as the game is very old and couldn’t find it anywhere else for “free” and after it finally installed it shows that it asks to make changes to my computer. i scanned my pc and nothing showed up but i’m still kind of suspicious considering its source. should i open it?