Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Trigger Warning: Literally.  This one is about Hate, and Fear, to answer a
FAQ that's making the rounds once again.  Current events, usually some
variation of "What makes a man do that?" Well, I can answer that one,
because I once found myself in this state of mind myself.  Only it was
Bombs, Incendiaries, and Chemical Weapons, instead of a Semiautomatic.  So
far, the answer seems to be either more guns, or less guns, but honestly if
the Marines can't protect over half of Congress at their own baseball game,
then more guns isn't a solution to the Lone Gunman.  You can't argue that
the USMC doesn't have the funding, training, experience, nor true grit to
protect Congress, as is their official duty.

   My counter argument is that if we took away all the guns, then Gun
Violence would be a thing of the past, but we'd still have to deal with Mad
Bombers, and Gas attacks if not a resurgence in Ax Murders, just like
England.  Because Guns aren't responsible for the Violence, we had Ax
Murderers before Gun Culture chose the thematic weapon o' choice for mass
murders.

   My answer, in brief is Education.  To that end, let me start with
Motivation:

   ;

   "Aniju?" (Story codes reserved for when there's some erotic content.)

   "Hum?" I sat up, to my mother's hand leaving my shoulder.

   She said just 3 words: "Get your gun."

   That was it, of course we had trained for this, but I had hoped, never
to need it.  For this, I swallowed all the useless questions.  What's going
on, and did what I was told.  Followed my training, all the drills, took
down my .22, and racked the lever to chamber the first round.  Pulled the
sling tight over my shoulder, and plucked another to tuck in the side
before wrapping my arm around it.  Looking back, mother shut the door, in
the dim light of her site.  Undermounted to the muzzle of her .45, even as
my brothers followed my father down the hall.

   Silently, then it went dark so I could look out across the yard, and let
my eyes adjust.

   I talk to survivalists, online a lot, to represent.  The stereotype is
the big man, usually white, often pear shaped, with military tattoos, and
invariably the beard of Authority.  So, Charles Manson, says you can take
his word for the inevitability of a Race War.

   Of course, the FAQ is: "What's the best weapon for Home defense?" The
answer is: "It depends." On your home, and you.  The question everyone
should ask is "What gun should I have to protect My Home, My Life, and My
Property?" Because the answer depends most on you.

   So, I don't feel undergunned, even as I make out the silhouettes
gathering around the perimeter.  Looks like mostly bolt action rifles, and
pump action shotguns, survivalists like us who know better than to get too
close, even if that means the scatterguns are useless.  At this range, 70
yards from our house, smack dab in the middle of our 4 Acres.  My site
isn't zeroed at that range, because it's "Just" a .22 Magnum.  Rimfire,
fairly unanimously accepted as a pistol round, even in a carbine barrel.

   However, this is what I trained for, which is why I know exactly how far
away that Stetson is, and also how high to hold the site so it will drop
somewhere around the center of his chest before it gets there.  I don't
hold my breath, not yet, just steady my stock on the sill, my arm in the
sling, my elbows on my bed, and listen to my heart beat slower, and deeper.
Watch the muzzle twitch in time with it, and force my breath to slow down.

   "Hhhhuh, huhhhhH,"

   Because my hands shaking at this range is a clear miss, but I have a
lever action carbine, in .22 magnum for several reasons: 1, it's My Gun.  I
shoot her better than anything else, and you don't want to miss with a .22
mag, at this range.  2, the walls around me are batten plaster, so even
Mom's .45 will stop before it gets through the other side.  3, I'm
surrounded by my family, and we're All Armed.  I know exactly where every
single one is, right now.

   So, we don't have to worry about hitting the very loved ones, or
property we're trying to protect, but we are outnumbered.  I just counted
23 silhouettes, on our side.  Moving around too much, too lazily and
aimlessly to guarantee a hit, so I hold my shot.  Even if I kill one,
that's 22 barrels to turn around, and zero in on the window the muzzle
flashes from.  I can't take that shot, but I am ready.

   "Hhhhuh, huhhhH?" Don't hold it.  Just breathe as slowly, and evenly as
possible, so that I can.  At an instant's notice, and squeeze one off
between that heart beat, and the next.  At this range, shot placement is
critical, but I can even see the cans.  Right there, the barely visible
ember of a cigarette, twitch as he flicks off the ash, and it brightens to
a pinprick of light like Algol.

   "Where is she?" From around the corner, I can't make out the speaker, by
his voice, but I make out every word.

   "Safe.  I see you come for a fight, but you can't have her."

   "Put down the gun, or I'll signal to open fire."

   "Go right ahead, huhahah!" My father, fearless, "You'll die next, then
we'll see how many die before your friends make it across the yard."

   Our land, we know every yard of it, even though I can't see the hole I
shot in that can, that man is using as an ashtray from here.  I know it's
there, because I shot it, from here.  Tied in and braced, just like this,
at least every other day.  I could kill any one of them from here, their
choice, but none of them have anything pointed this direction.  Most of
them are still slung, I can only make out the rifles from the shotguns by
the scopes sticking out, and they can unsling them any time.

   I'm ready.

   "She's a pervert."

   "She's none of your damned business."

   "She tempts my family into sin, and I make it my business."

   "Your sister is a person, Virgil.  Not your wife, not your daughter, not
your property.  She's free to love whoever she wants, and that ain't your
business, neither."

   That's what it's about?  Carn sarn it, it's the 21st century, it's legal
to marry here now, and we're one of the first states to make it so.  I
don't hear them complaining about pot smokers, because they're making money
off Hemp now, but this.  This is none of your damned business.  2 guys
getting married doesn't have a damned thing to do with the Sanctity of your
Marriage, nor 2 girls, why if a man wants to marry a mule, it's Not Your
Marriage.

   "Go on home now, before someone get's shot.  Say hello to Evelyn when
you get done takin it out on her, and for future reference, beating up
women don't really help in the loyalty department, neither."

   Yes, Washington is a progressive state.  Maybe even the most progressive
state, I don't know I only been to Idaho, and Victoria Canada, so I ain't
got much to compare it to, but that don't mean everybody wants to live
here.

   Just going by the turnout tonight, I feel it safe to say that there's
still plenty of folk living in a state of Denial, but they ain't stupid. 
They know enough to tell this is our land, and none of them are brave
enough to die on it.

   Go ahead, cross that line.

   Then we can shoot them, but they know that, and wander off. 
Reluctantly, so I can breathe again.

   "Huh!"

   ;

   {That's one.  Possible motivating factor, but for clarity I'm going to
pack them all in.  Or try, as many as I can anyway to illustrate this is a
Complex.  Issue, or a complex of issues, but that's one.  One thing all of
us potential mass murderers have in common: Persecution.}

   ;

   Class

   Wouldn't you know, it's like it never happened.  Last night, now I know
some of them silhouettes was my schoolmates, but once again, they're not
brave enough to show their faces.  White faces, I know that, because all
this started long before my bisexual aunt came out as bisexual.

   We got brave, so they got stupid.

   "Watch it, Chinkano." Can't get no more racist, now they know we ain't
no more Mexican then we're Asian.  Lived around them our whole lives, even
before we had to leave the tribe for standing with our Family against the
Elders.

   Can't really blame them for being traditional.  After all the efforts to
strip them of their traditions, so we left.  You ever heard of Two Spirits?
I'm sure, I get shared articles about the "Native American" tradition of
accepting LGBT people in our Culture.

   So, let me tell you what's wrong with that headline: 1, We're not
"Native Americans" because we got here first.  Americans are invaders, and
2, it's not Our Culture.  Our tribe didn't have that tradition, I should
know, because they're not My tribe any more.  We left, rather than deny
that we have LGBT relatives in our family.

   Here's the important part, since I have to say it again and again, so
pay attention:

   It's not YOUR culture.  So, you can go right ahead, and stop telling me
what my people believe, all right?  Because I for one am getting kind of
sick and tired of having to explain it.  Especially since it doesn't matter
what I say, because the white occupation won't take it to heart, ever,
anyway.  So, in case you're wondering what Pacific Northwest Tribes don't
share the Two Spirit tradition, here's your answer: None of your gorram
business.

   "Hey," my shoulders went up, "Anju."

   "Huh!" I turned around, "Ani?"

   "Sorry, Annie." She tilted her head, "What's wrong with your real name?"

   "Nothing, it's just not Anju.  Look, if you're going to try to use my
'Real' name, and you can't pronounce it, then what's the point?  Ani will
do."

   "Okay, Ani."

   "What is it?"

   "I just couldn't help but notice, you're a little upset today."

   "How could you tell?" I shook my head, and turned to keep walking.

   "Where you going?"

   "Lunch."

   "The Lunch room,"

   "I know where it is." The door slapped back against the building.

   "Did you bring some food?"

   "No, I got lunch money," pointed, "See them?"

   She put her hand up, Indian style, to shade her eyes.  Hot day, dry, and
dusty too.  Yes, in Washington, East Washington, we have a long dry season,
there's a few months where it might rain, and this aint one of them.

   "Uh huh?" She put it down.

   "Well, they sell pretty good tamales, and the school food sucks here."

   "You like Mexican food?"

   "New Mexican." I nodded, :"Actually, they're Tiwa.  From Taos?"

   "New Mexico?"

   "No, Taos Maine.  So, anyway they're good friends of my family, and they
got great tamales, you want one?"

   I pulled out a bill, and handed it over, Wala handed me my bag, and I
didn't even check it.

   "Um," she looked down from the ristra, hanging from the propped up lift
gate, "What you got?"

   "Chicken and Green Chile, Pork and Red, and Beef.  Christmas."

   "Huh!" I headed back to the grass, and trees.  Green grass, over by the
sports field, so it gets watered, and the trees around the edges have some
leaves, and kicked the dust off my boots before I crossed them, and sat
down.

   "I never had chicken with Chili before."

   "Huh!" I shook my head, "It's Chile', not Chili."

   "What's the difference?"

   "Chili is the peppers.  You saw the ristras?  The bunches of peppers
they had hanging up?  Yeah, those are Chile peppers.  Chili is Texmex
stew."

   "Oh," she unwrapped one, and looked at it, "So it's spicy?"

   "Mhm?" I swallowed.

   "Good, I like spicey food." Finally, she put something in her mouth, and
chewed on it.

   I swallowed, washed it down, and "What's this about?" Screwed the lid
back on my canteen.

   She shrugged, coughed masa, and flapped her fingers for my canteen.

   "Huh!"

   "Mmh!" She guzzled, and grinned.  "What is this?"

   "Horchata, what's this about?"

   "You know," she looked away, lowered her chin, and covered her smile. 
"Your aunt?"

   "Yes," I nodded, "She's my aunt."

   "Is she really, a lesbian?"

   "No," I put up my hand, "And before you ask, I can't go into any more
detail, because it aint my closet."

   "Well, is she single?" Well, actually, she's married.

   "How old are you?"

   "Fourteen?"

   "Well, I don't know what the legal age of consent is here, but even if
she was, and your family wasn't threatening to lynch at night for having
affairs with adult women, she's probably not all that interested in teenage
white girls." Not to mention what all her wife might have to say about it.

   "That's racist!"

   "Huh." I just shook my head, got up.  "Fine, even if it was, you're too
young for her.  Have a nice life." I took my canteen back, empty, and
dropped the crumpled foil back in the bag with the napkins.

   ;

   Race

   "Not just Any Jew." I shook my head.  Like I never heard that one afore.

   "Yeah, she must be one of those Red Jews I heard of."

   "Too bad we don't have concentration camps here."

   "That's it," I stood up, "We do." I pointed, "You know the Rez?  Yeah,
that's a Concentration Camp.  I grew up there, and you know what?  Eichmann
got the idea for Dachau from the American Reservation system.  So, as long
as you're going to be fucking Fascists, you might as well learn a little of
your history.  Also, the Ashknazi are called red for their hair, not their
skin."

   "Hahha, they got redheadded injuns too?"

   "Yeah, to match there skin."

   "Ashknazi isn't a tribe of injuns, Gabe.  They're a tribe of Jews.  You
don't even know who the fuck you hate?"

   "Don't care.  Long's we can killem."

   "Uh!" I know, they do it to get a rise out of me, and from their
laughter behind me, I know they got what they wanted, but it just makes me
so mad!  I guess it's good they can't bring a gun to school, so I can't
bring my gun to school, but if it came down to it.

   "Huh!" We can't have gunfights at school.  I know this, win or lose,
would be a bad thing, I was just upset.  Why, even if I won, and got away
with it on account of Self Defense, you'd still have to worry about all the
shorts that miss, and who'd be hit by them in a crowded school.  Not to
mention it's distracting enough with all this racism, trying to keep a
clear head would be impossible, but at least a knife.

   No, no.  That ain't right, neither.  Calm down now, Aniju.  Can't gut
him as an example for his friends neither, that would be a bad example too.
Just make his friends come after me, so I got to kill them too, and their
friends friends, and their friends, I'm just not going to run out of racist
white people then where would we be?

   "Huh!" I'd like to think we'd be better off without all these white
people around, but I'm calm now.  I can think rationally, instead of
becoming the Savage they want to paint me as.  "You okay?"

   "I look okay?" I held up my hands, to show her how bad my hands are
shaking.

   "That was pretty brutal." She sat down, crossed her legs.  Indian Style,
no she's not copying me, she's just.  Getting comfortable, and lucky, I
don't have a knife on me.  They're not all bad, she seems nice, and to
genuinely care, "I'm just.  Huh.  A little triggered, is all."

   "You want to talk about it?"

   "No."

   "I get triggered too, and I find that talking about it helps me think
more clearly about it." She twirled her fingers in front of her pigtails,
"You know, instead of just running it around, and around in my head, until
I can;t think about anything else, and it drives me nuts."

   "Okay!" I patted the air, "Okay, I get it.  So, you want to talk about
it?"

   "What?"

   "I don;t know, whatever it is that triggers you."

   "I'm a lesbian." She nodded.

   "Oh."

   "Don't tell anyone, but that's what's so frustrating.  Around here, I
mean back in Kent I could have a girlfriend, and everything.  Then we came
here, because mom got on this whole new-age kick, and wanted to commune
with the tribe, or whatever."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  I totally get what you said about cultural appropriation.  I'm
sorry if I offended you, yesterday.  What with all that about the tamales,
and your name, and everything.  I didn't know, but I want to learn.  I hate
offending people, I just don't know how to stop.  Sometimes it feels like I
can't say anything, and when I you hurt, it hurts me, to know that I
participated in that."

   "It's all right, calm down.  Jesus, I didn't mean to get offended, it's
just that.  Huh!" Excuses, and excuses, "I get to used to white people,
being racist, it triggers me, and I can't tell the good ones, like you,
from the true racists."

   "Owh!  I forgive you."

   We hugged.  It was nice.

   "And, I guess.  I could use a friend right now." Someone I'm not related
to.

   "I'd love to be your friend, but." She sat back.  "Huh!" He shoulders
dropped.  "I don't want to lie to you, either."

   "What is it?" I could tell, whatever it is, is hard for her.

   "Well, I'm also.  Well, I have to admit, that I find you incredibly
attractive.  Not because you're native american, you're just.  So,
beautiful."

   "Uh?" I shook my head.  My burning head, it was hot enough out here
without blushing all over, I just, wasn't expecting it.  I should have, I
seriously should have put 2, and 2 together, but I'm just not used to
anyone liking me.  So, I didn't know how to deal.  With it, just yet. 
"Okay?"

   "It's okay, if you don't feel the same about me.  I understand, I just
had to get that off my chest." She just hugged me!?

   "Well," I looked down.  "Thanks." Scratched my chin on my shoulder, for
no reason, other than having no idea what else to do.  "I guess."

   "You're welcome."

   ;

   Sex (Just going through them all, in no particular order.)

   "You're welcome." he is, so beautiful.  It's not like any one thing,
it's everything, really.  Her hair, is straight, and thick, and black as
any oriental, tribal, and a good many hispanic women's.  First, I suppose
that's the first thing you see, because she tends to hide in it, and though
I've never seen her even comb it, or do anything to it.  It's always nice,
she doesn't even have to tie it, or braid it to hang straight, even when
it's windy.

   It's not, it's still, and hot, but.  "Huh!" She looks up enough for it
to part away from her face like a curtain, and her deep dark eyes to find
mine again.

   "So," she smiled!  "You're from Kent?" She has a beautiful smile, too.

   "Mhm?  Washington.  It's over by East Seattle, and Seatac."

   "The airport?"

   "Yeah, the airport's in the Township.  Of Seatac, I mean.  My girlfriend
lived there.  I mean, she still live there, we just broke up, when I moved,
but her family's from India."

   "Oh yeah?"

   "Yeah, they're Sihks.  From the Punyab?  Yeah, there's a lot of Sihks in
Seatac.  And Kent, but mostly south Kent, because it's close to Seatac."

   "Huh!  Thanks."

   "You're welcome." I nodded, "What for?"

   "Well, for.  Being my friend, I guess.  For talking to me, about
something else.  Anything to get my mind off of." She waved, "All that. 
Huh!  Never mind, you're right.  I feel a lot better, thanks."

   She looked mad.  I know, they call it Bitchy Resting Face, but she's
not. Really like that, it's sexist, and while she does have a beautiful
smile, I'd never tell her.  That she should smile more, I get that all the
time too, and while we keep having to stop.  And think of something to say,
I don't mind.  I'm just happy to be there with her, and happy to make her
happy, and give her something to smile about.  It's not awkward, or
uncomfortable at all.

   "You're really," what's a better word, "Courageous."

   "Yeah?"

   "Yeah, I always thought so.  I mean, I have no idea what it must be
like, to put up with everything you do, and still maintain your." Uhm. 
"You just have this, presence, about you.  It's like, no matter what they
throw at you, you're never afraid, and you face up to them instead of run
away, and I wish I could just.  Carry myself like that, but.  It's
inspirational, I wish I could be as strong as you."

   "Well," she doesn't know what to say.  "Huh!  I know, if I showed any of
the fear.  I feel it, every day, I'm really terrified inside, but if I show
it, they only get worse.  They're like, Jackals, I guess."

   "Mhm?"

   "Or, I don't know.  Hyenas?  In Africa, you've seen the Lion King."

   "Mhm?"

   "Well, it's a cartoon, but real Hyenas, they can compete with the lions,
but not in strength.  Of numbers, there's more to a pack than a pride of
lions, but they don't roll up like gangsters, and face them, pack to pride.
They look for opportunites, to attack them, and gang up on one, like the
Lion while the lionesses are out on the hunt, so they can wipe out all the
cubs."

   "Oh yeah?" that's interesting, but I'm also glad she's talking again. 
"So, you like animal, shows?"

   "I guess.  Compared to cartoons, or.  Music videos, yeah.  Especially
around the world, like the Serengheti, and the Amazon, the Steppes of Asia,
and the Himal'yas." She nodded, "Not like the stories, and legends about
them, but the real animals, in their natural habitats, and how they
interact together."

   "What about North American ones?" She just named off like 3 other
continents, and I really want to hear anything about her.  What she likes,
and why, I don't really know her very well.

   "Well, yeah but.  I guess I should tell you what it's like, where I came
from.  There's not like Totem Poles, and stuff, that's mostly the western
tribes along the coast, and the sound, but still.  Our cultures are all, or
at least were traditionally close to the plants, and animals.  For survival
until Europeans brought horses, and.  Guns, and Trains and shit."

   "Like," I don;t want to say Pocahantas, so.  "Well, the'yah.  African,
Asian, and South American tribes, too."

   "Exactly, so I grew up with a masters in Brown Bears, Wolverines,
Coyotes, and Ravens.  So, I like to learn about Lions, and Hyenas, and.  I
don't know.  Lammergiers, too?"

   "That's your favorite animal?"

   "Lammergier?  Yeah, bird I guess.  I don't have A favorite.  Of course,
but if I had to pick a bird."

   "What're they like?"

   "Well, kinda like a cross between a Raptor and a Vulture.  They call
them Bearded Vultures, but they're really closer to Hawks, and Eagles."

   "Are they Beautiful?  They have a beautiful name."

   "Yeah, I think so.  Especially the name, Lammergier."

   "Yeah, me too.  It's a pretty name."

   "Um." she looked down, "I'm sorry, but.  Huh!  I forgot your's.  Your
name, I mean."

   "Oh, I'm Lilith."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "Like the Demon?"

   "Yeah, my parents are Satanists."

   "Really!?"

   "Haha yeahbut.  It's not like you might think.  I mean, I have no idea
what you might think, but you know.  A lot of people say a bunch of stuff
about the Church of Satan, that don't understand it?  You think it's bad,
how much they make fun of your name, you should talk to my brother Baph
about it."

   "Nh," she covered her mouth.  "Khihim!  Baph?"

   "Yeah, it's short for Baphomet, but we're not Satanists.  I mean, I was
raised, Satanist, but I don't really believe in it."

   "Well, I don't really know anything about.  The Church of Satan?"

   "The Left-Hand-Path." I nodded.

   "Oh, yeah that.  My family's all Catholic, so I probably just heard lies
about it from them."

   "Yeah?  Really?"

   "Yeah, Conquistadore's?" She nodded, "So anyway, they're mostly mixed
Traditional/Catholic, until we left the Rez.  Now they're mostly Catholic,
but I don't believe in it either."

   "What about your Aunt?"

   "The gay ones?" I nodded, "I think they're agnostic, or atheist.  I'm
not sure which."

   "Well, if you're interested, I can bring you a copy tomorrow."

   "Of the Satanic Bible?"

   "Well, it's not really a bible, but.  The Lefthand Path?  That's what
it's called, if you want to read it."

   "Yeah," she shrugged and nodded, "It sounds pretty neat."

   "Well, for one thing it's not about Evil.  We don't really believe in
it, in the Catholic sense.  It's like, if you ask the Right, the Left are
Evil.  Here on the left, we don't believe that people are evil.  It's not
like.  An Adjective?  Yeah." Had to remember English class real quick,
"They use it to describe something." Point with my right hand, "That's
evil, or You're evil." I switch hands, "We use it as an AdVerb.  You do
something Good, or Bad.  There are no Good people, just people do good
things.  No Evil people, just people do bad things.  That's our belief:
Everyone has the capacity to do good, and bad things, but the important
thing is we have a Choice.  The free will, to chose every time whether to
do the right thing, or wrong.  Nobody is irredeemable, the Christians like
to say we're all sinners, but the reality is there is no sin, we can just
be tempted to do bad things."

   "Huh!' She thought.  "Yeah, I'm gonna have to borrow that book, but if
you don't mind.  It really sounds more like Philosophy than Religion."

   "Right?  It is.  Honestly."

   "Cool!"

   ;

   Sexuality (ff Saph/Bicurios.  NS, Talk)

   So, She took me home after school.  I never met any real Satanists, and
it was the fastest way to borrow their book.  I guess it's interesting, and
you know.  She's gay?  I never knew a real lesbian before, either, it's not
so much a small town as the closest town ain't real big, and she's clear on
the other side of it, so I called home.

   "Can I spend the night?"

   "I don't see why not."

   That, and with all the fear from last night.  "Hearh!" And I didn't get
much sleep, it's weird but I even feel a little safer with Satanists than
my own family.  Not because of them, but because there's no telling what
they might do tonight.  I can imagine, these are real, hard core Eastern
Washington Survivalists.  So, just assuming you don't know, all of them are
military trained, even their daughters Enlist, their Black Sheep are the
ones that are't veterans.  Some of them were Special Forces, and their kids
brag at school over who's got the biggest arsenal at home.

   So, even if they're stupid, ignorant, stubborn, and opinionated, they at
least talk about having blocks of C-4 explosives, Mortars, Machinguns and
Rocket Launchers.  The stereotypical rednecks have pickups.  Some of them
have Pintle Mounts in the bed.  They just brought rifles, and shotguns last
night.

   As if I believe I have a soul to risk, right now I'm more worried about
burning to death in my bed than forever in hell.

   "Who's this?" Her mom, doesn't look Satanist.

   "Oh, this is my friend."

   "Aniju."

   "Nice to meet you Aniju."

   "Huh!" She shook my hand.

   "So, your friends, or girlfriends?"

   "Oh, just friends."

   "Oh," I took he hand, "Maybe more." Her right hand, in my left.  I don't
know the spiritual significance of that, but I'm here to learn.

   I had no idea, when they moved in, that we had real Satanists here. 
Just fake heavy metal ones with stars instead of Schwasticas, but.

   "Uh?" She looked at me, so I grinned, and felt her hand relax.  She
smiled back.

   "Yeah," I squeezed it.  "So, where's this book?"

   What the hell?  Okay, I really don't think they could hate me more if I
started wearing a star, or holding hands with a girlfriend, but I am a
Rebel.  We left the Rez because we chose to help protect my aunt when she
moved in with her wife, I don't really have a place.  Anywhere I fit in,
but from the moment I stepped foot in here, it almost felt like I could,
for once in my life.

   "Really!" She almost jumped up and down giggling as soon as she closed
the door, so I flopped on the bed.  Shrugged.  "Yeah.  You're pretty too,
you know that?" In a white princess kinda way, but you know I grew up with
Disney too, right?  Yeah, well, I met Prince Charming, and he's an asshole.
Moving on...  "Look," I took her hands again, "I never really was,
attracted to anyone before, and," Looking up at her grinning face was so
worth it, "What with the distraction of all the bigots', hate, and fear, I
never really got the chance to ask myself why.  So, whenever you came out
to me at lunch, I couldn't really hide my feelings from myself any more,
but now that you ask, yeah." I shrugged, "I may be a little more bi,
curious, than I might have thought.  Before, so if you don't mind taking it
slow, you want to go out with me?"

   "Oh, yes yes!" Now she was bouncing, shaking her hands in mine.  "I
accept!"

   "Well, great." I let her go, "Now, where's this book you been telling me
so much about?"

   Might as well do my homework.

   I don't fucking know, maybe I'm Goth?  At least I don't have to dye my
hair.

   ;

   Anton

   So, met my sister's new girlfriend.

   "This is Aniju."

   "You name's Baph?"

   "Anton." Now.

   "Yeah, she said you hated Baphomet."

   "Not really, it's just the middle school kids made fun of it, so."

   "Tell me about it.  I totally understand, Anton.  You can call me
Annie."

   "Oh, you're Annie?"

   "You heard of me?"

   I looked over at Lili, "Well, yeah.  I mean, she's only been gushing
about you since we got here."

   "How long's that?"

   "Idaknow," think, "Coming up on a couple years.  Since last August?"
Tribal, but one of those tribal girls that looks like, a dark oriental.  In
the eyes, not red at all, maybe Thibetan?  Not Indian at all.

   "So, what kind of name is Szandor?"

   "I don't know, probably something LaVey made up.  My folks changed it
when they got married, instead of taking his or her's."

   "Sounds Hungarian."

   "Yeah," shrug, "Maybe?"

   "She said you're not really into the church, either."

   "Not really.  Spiritual, at all.  I'm more of a realist, if we don't
actually need God and Angels, then I let them go to Occam's Razor."

   "So, you're a Socialist?"

   "You got that," I had to laugh.

   "What?" Lili didn't.

   "Marx."

   "And Engels." I nodded, "Maybe a little Nietzsche, but I'm more
philosophical than wedded to any specific ideology."

   "You're pretty educated for a middle school guy, though.  I mean, well
read?"

   "Right?  Well, you met mom."

   "Yeah, saw the library." It's extensive.  "She doesn't teach school no
more.  Ever since she came out as a Satanist.  I mean, the schools were
pretty progressive in Kent, but not that progressive."

   "I might be.  Satanist, I mean.  I barely started reading The Lefthand
Path, but I like what I've seen so far.  Philosophically, of course.  I'm
not very spiritual either."

   "Well, cool."

   "So, what'd you hear about me?"

   "Well, you know." Other than she's gorgeous.  "The guys around school,
talk about your family alot.  How you're harboring lesbians, and leading
good christian women into sin."

   "Right?  I figure if I'm going to get burned at the stake anyway, I
might as well get into witchcraft." She laughed, it was a joke.  We all
laughed, knowing it's not witchcraft at all.  e're not Wiccans, but that's
what they say.  So I hear.

   "You smoke?"

   "Not tobacco."

   "Me neither," I fished the Altoids tin out of my pocket, "But I did
twist one up for after school."

   "Oh, cool." A little bent out of shape, but I straightened it out before
I lit, and passed it.

   We didn't talk much until it got down to the roach.

   ;

   {If you're wondering where the sexual content is, I'm getting to it. 
Look, she's barely aware of sexuality, but you know what I said about
Narcissists?  If not, it doesn't really matter, because she's not one. 
However, likewise there's other psychoses which interfere with the
development of normal (Meaning Consensual/non-abusive) sexualities, in this
case it's just not about her.

   It's about everyone else.}

   ;

   Fear (f Solo Fant)

   "HUH!?"

   "Mh?" I touched her arm.  "Gosh, you're ice cold!" I didn't have to ask
if she was okay.  "Bad dream?"

   "HhHuh hum?" She nodded, on the pillow.  I rubbed her arm, under the
covers.  She didn't have any Pajamas, so I loaned her some.  They didn't
fit, too short in the arms and legs, but baggy on her tall slim body.  "You
want to talk about it?"

   "Mh m."

   "Well, you're starting to warm up.  Why don't you take a shower, it
might make you feel better?"

   "Yeah," she got up.  "Thanks." Felt my arm.  "I'll try that," and my
shoulder.  Then, I heard her.  Feel around the bed in the dark, and find
the door.  Close it, then some light came around the frame so I could see
the end of the bed.

   She ran the water, but didn't turn on the shower.  I didn't hear the
drain either, so she must have taken a bath, but it's okay.  I already saw
her, naked when she changed into the Pjs, and left her underwear on the
dresser.  I could see her shorts, hang over the end, but I closed my eyes.
To remember, she's not modest.

   Big family, for one.  Brothers, and sisters, aunts and uncles, even some
cousins decided to come with them when they left the Rez.  In solidarity
with her Aunt, or aunts now that they're married.  I know why, I was
attracted to her.  Even before I met her, and started getting to know her,
honestly I heard about her aunt, and while she doesn't look just like her,
you can certainly tell.

   She's beautiful in the same way, tall, and lean, but not like a Model.
Neither of them, more like a horse, or a dear.  Wild things, with that
natural grace, and lovely strength.  Strong noble beauty, and proud exotic
heritage.  What can I say, I like Indian girls?  And Native Americans, not
the same thing, but 2 girls so far is enough to call it.  Not to sound
racist, but I don't like white girls.  I suppose we're too much like me. 
Or my mother, my sisters, my family, and all the bigoted girls I know
around here.

   I'm scared of them too, so at least I know how she feels.  About that,
hate is hate whether it's another race, religion, political belief, or sex.

   "HhuhH!"

   I know what sexism is like, and homophobia too.  So, is it really so
much different from straight white guys hating a culture they don't bother
to understand?  I don't know, but I doubt it.  Ask me why it's not even a
turnoff, just waking up next to her, and knowing she's right there.  Maybe
10 feet away, and soaking the nightmare away.  "Hihn!"

   She wants to take it slow, and I agree.  Yeah, she's sexy, as fuck, but
I can wait.  I've done it enough to get used to it, at least.  Hard enough
to find someone else in an area like the Seattle/Tacoma metroplex, much
less out here, where coming out can get you killed.  "HhHhH!"

   Not her, though.  She's a Warrior, I can tell.  She holds it back, and I
hope never to see what she can do, but it's exciting, and I somehow even
feel safer, with her around.  Even though I know, if anyone even thought we
were more than just friends, soon enough everyone would know.  Then the
ones that hate us for that would come for us.  We could be lynched, and I
know we would be killed, but that's the only chance I would get.

   To see her in action, but I can imagine.  Nothing stereotypical, like a
Plains tribe's Warbonnet (No woman ever traditionally could wear) an East
Coast Tomahawk, any more than a North West Coast Totem Pole.  None of those
are her tribes, even her ex tribes, which I know nothing about, but she
says we're going shooting.  This weekend, I've never even held a gun
before, but I can imagine.

   "Yeah."

   You know that book, by Steven King, the Dark Tower?  Well, I just read
The Gunslinger, but Roland had a Hawk.

   "Yeah," holding out her hand, for the Lammergier, she showed me, or we
looked up pictures on the computer.  Her other hand, resting on the butt on
her hip.  Her hair blowing back from her face, to sway in the wind, and
then pointing.

   "SKYRH!" Leaping from her outstretched arm to embrace the sky on
feathered wings, even as it's pierced by it's primal cries, then her hand,
disappearing.  From the now empty holster as the glove comes back, chopping
at her hip, snapping back the hammer to fall on a chambered round and burst
out in an thunderclap of fire and another.

   "AUGH!"

   ;

   Love

   So, I took her shooting.  After last night, we just slept together. 
That's it, I had a nitemare, took a bath, and when I got back the room
stank of sex, but I was happy.  She got off, we kissed, and cuddled until I
fell asleep to the gentle sound of her slow deep breaths, but that's it.

   She said she loved me, I had the whole hike to think about it, would've
thought I'da come up with something, but I suppose these things take time.

   In the mean time, I unslung Pearl, and got out the heavy barrel.  Set
the centerfire pin, and mounted it.  Loaded up the tube with .22 Hornets.
Not as many shots, damn fine Varmint round, a whole lot of range.

   "Where are we?"

   "Welp," Got to mount the scope anyway, "This's the old High Tension
wires, the Government cut to the Rez when we set-up the water wheel."

   "What water wheel?"

   "Well, when I say we, I mean them.  The elders told me about it, but you
heard of Crystal Falls?"

   "I never seen it."

   "Of course not, not really open to tourists, but if you look up there,
you can see the back of the ridge, in the peak of the mountain?" I held up
the scope for her.

   To look, didn't bring any binoculars, so it's only 2.7 power, but she
nodded.  "Uh huh?"

   "Well, that's the high lake."

   "It's a volcano."

   "No, oh no, that's what's called a cirque lake.  The peak got carved out
by glaciers, back in the last ice-age." But with it screwed down to the
dovetail, I tucked the driver back in the case, and opened the action. 
Tucked in another round.  "Now, I got to zero this first." I set up, on the
leather pad I had over the crossbars, between the legs of the tower.

   Just L shaped beams, to hold up the wires, way overhead.  "This is just
a strip of old land now.  Between the national forest, and the Rez, but
nobody really owns it no more.  They just use it for dirtbikes, and 4
wheelers, mostly." I sited up the trail, on the targets we set up, on the
way down.  "That's 150 yards.  Cover your ears."

   PWH!.....!

   I looked down, started dialing in, on the top knob, counting clicks. 
Racked out the brass, and popped another one in.

   "Should take a couple more shots, then you can have a go." I set it back
up, closed my eye, and held the other one up to the focal point.  "Whw."

   ..

   PWH!

   ..

   "Hih!" Still a couple minutes off, but close, I looked down the side
wheel, and counted off diopters.  "Dialing in..."

   She covered her ears, and I stood it back up.  Racked ot the spent, and
chambered another one.

   "Whhhhh."

   ..

   PWH!.....!

   I nodded, clicked dow 2, and 3 to the right.

   "Now," I handed it over, "Don't worry about hitting it, and just pay
attention to where it hits.  See the retical?"

   "The what?"

   "The crosshairs, see the ticks in it?"

   "Uh huh?"

   "Now, that's just like X, and Y in geometry class.  All right, now take
a deep breath, and let it out, slowly."

   Click!

   "Good, now here's the safety.  This time, don't hold your breath, but
hold the sight on, while you let the breath out, and slowly squeeze the
trigger.  Don't pull it, just squeeze it with the web of your thumb, until
it breaks."

   "PWH!"

   "You see where it hit?"

   "Yeah!"

   "Good, now do it all again, and slowly dial in on the target."

   I squinted, hand flat over my eye, but though i sw the dust puff up
behind it, I couldn't make out the point of impact, without a spotting
scope.

   "Hhhhhuh!" PWH!  "Hihihn!"

   "You hit it?"

   "No, but I'm closer.  This IS fun!"

   "Yeah, let me see that."

   I pulled out 4 more rounds, tucked between my fingers, and locked down
the lever to tuck 'em in.  "And another for the chamber." I shut it, but my
eye twitched.

   "Huh?" I turned, and sholdered it.  Following the movement until I
caught it, and closed my eye.  "Dagnabbit."

   "What?"

   "Merriam.  Whhhhhh." Lead it.

   "Who?"

   ..  PWH!  ..

   Shook my head.  "Turkey.  Must've spooked it, shooting.  Made a run for
it, think I got it."

   "You wanna go check?"

   "Yeah, but it's probly a hike."

   "Okay."

   I shurgged, and slung it.

   "Come on, cant've got far from the start of the tril, if it's bleeding."

   "Why're you pissed?"

   "Well, the goldang whites brought them, so they cosey up to the national
forest.  This one run the wrong way, so we can shoot it, but they get on
our land.  Erm, I mean the rez,'n get into the seeds.  Eat'em right out the
fields afore they get a chance to take, there'a nuisence, and a pest, but
the rednecks feel the need to hunt for Thanksgiving.  So every dern year,
we got ta shoot the ones that get away, before we plant the winter crops."

   "Oh, don't guess you're all for Thanks Giving?"

   "Yeah, thanks a lot, Kroatans.  For not killing all of them, and letting
the rest starve to death that winter." I patted her back, and hugged her.
Close, stopping a minit to hold her eyes.  Searching mine.  "For you." I
kissed her.  "This year, I actually have something.  To be thankful for."

   "Oh!"

   "Now, lets go see if'n we can't find that blood trail."

   "You like turkey?"

   "Yeah, you?"

   "Yeah, if you help me pluckit, I'll cook it right up."

   No use letting good meat go to waste.
   ;