The news was filled with him.

“James Cartright.”

“James Cartright.”

His picture was on every TV set. Every wanted poster across the nation. Specials were run on him. Kids feared him. He was a household name in the worst way possible.

“James Cartright, serial killer.”

I stared fixedly at the TV screen in front of me, a bowl of popcorn in my lap. They were reviewing all the children, girls, he’s murdered again.

“Abigail Wilson, age 14.” A beautiful brunette girl surrounding by her friends at cheerleading practice appeared on the screen.

A brief flicker and a petite blonde girl holding a puppy replaced her,
“Trish Stanton, age 11.”

Another flicker and an older girl dressed as the devil, must have been Halloween, appeared on the screen,
“Nicole Summers, age 16.”

My eyes began to water, all those girls, those poor girls. Abruptly I reached for the remote, just as another girl flashed onto the screen.

“Rachel…”

I turned off the TV.

One would think all my years studying psychology, followed by my own practice, would get me more used to this sort of thing. That I would have developed an immunity to the world’s troubles and automatically understand why people do the things they do. But that’s not the case. I don’t understand people like James Cartright and I never will.

With a slight groan, I ran my hands over and down my face. I know better than to watch the news. What’s an old saying, “Don’t bring your work home with you.” ? Well it’s hard not too with my job. Where everyone is a project. A study. Something to be analyzed, like a lab rat. But someone like James Cartright? They’re too far gone.

There I go, thinking of him again.

Sighing, I grabbed my popcorn bowl. According to the clock, a coo coo clock just above my small TV set, it was 9:30. Way past my 9:00 bedtime and I must be bright eyed and bushy tailed for my 8:00 appointment. I’d hate to disappoint Mr. Jenkins about as much as he’d hate to see me disappoint him.

I rose from my couch.

I need a maid. I thought, looking around my over furnished living room.

“Or a storage room.” I said under my breath, tripping over my mother’s antique footstool on my way to the kitchen.

She passed away four months ago and I still don’t have the heart to do anything with her stuff. Sarah wants to sell it, but then again, she was always mom’s least favorite daughter.

Collecting myself, and the few pieces of popcorn that got flung from the bowl, I stepped into my small, on second thought, very small kitchen. That barely fit me, let alone Sasha, my Maine Coon kitten. A last Christmas present from my mom.

Where was Sasha anyway? I wondered for a moment before dawning on me, “She’s probably already in bed. The little bed hog.” I muttered, hurrying to dump out my popcorn.

Only six months old, and Sasha has already grown large enough and old enough to develop a fetish for covers ownership, “Sasha, you better move over!” I yelled, hurriedly scrubbing my bowl, “I don’t want to have another talk with you again!”

I placed the bowl in the dishwasher, shaking my head at myself. I’m beginning to be as crazy as my patients. Talking to a cat. I thought, chuckling as I walked a few short steps to my bedroom. Which, like the living room, was also crammed with stuff.

“Hmm.” It looked like a maze and, as small as the room is, I can’t even see my bed, let alone Sasha. Was it even this bad last night?

Huffing, I grabbed my mother’s blue quilt off her old sewing machine and stormed back into the living room. Guess it’s the couch for me tonight.
This is the second chapter.
Here’s the rest: http://stories.mibba.com/read/233675/James/

Help yourself! What self-help book is good for you?
It’s the season for giving. And the gift of self-improvement is the gift that keeps on giving.

Read more on Canada.com

Ruff wants to groove with the poodle next door but is horrified when she tells him he’s got halitosis.

The bad breath in the morning

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Ruff wants to groove with the poodle next door but is horrified when she tells him he’s got halitosis.

Ruff wants to groove with the poodle next door but is horrified when she tells him he’s got halitosis.

Lol my friends picked 4 songs for me to song for a bet and this is one of them, Ya im not a singer just a dancer, as you can probably tell, by how bad I sing lol.

Puggsy Boss: So Pharaoh, So Good (Mega Drive / Genesis) Puggsy Soundtrack Music — Music: Matt Furniss — Sound driver: Shaun Hollingworth — puggsy soundtrack games game music sega mega drive megadrive genesis boss bosses video matt furniss shaun hollingworth hollingsworth beach diamond mines fire heart fireheart aztec temple final guardians guardian bad ending flour power halitosis dragon if looks could kill meanwhile cutscene cut scene polly pirate so pharaoh good emperor emperor’s emperors old clothes

The Fishing Report: Striper, sturgeon bites looking good in California Delta; use eel-shrimp combo
Here’s a look at the latest local angling action:

Read more on Napa Valley Register

I know this is bad and probably low class but could you guys please read it? Was it good, bad or okay? Did it make you want to read on? Any advice on how to make it better? I’m13 by the way.

“ I hate you! It’s your fault where in this place” I yelled angrily at him. What did I ever do to deserve getting into this mess?

Stephen and I were being held prisoners in the Underworld. I was furious. If he’d just listened to me in the first place and gone with my plan. None of this would have ever happened.

I closed my eyes and turned my back away from him. Taking deep yoga-style breaths to calm myself down a bit. My therapist told me that if I ever needed to control my anger breathing deeply was all I needed to do.

What a load of trash I thought. I still felt angry and like I wanted to hurl the cowering Stephen into a pit full of killer scorpions. If he’d only listened to me about the guards.

“ They’re only zombies. They’ll probably be way too slow to catch us!” I remembered Stephen saying in a duh voice as he explained the plan to me.
I cursed again for the billionth time today. Why did I even agree to come with him?
Because you were afraid he’d kill himself. My annoying self conscience was speaking up again. I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.
I had to think of a way to get us both out of here.
The cell we were being held in was pretty much the way all cells here were. Small, dim, reeked of death and there were of course a bunch of dead human carcasses littered here and there on the floor.
I paced around the room. Kicking aside a small cracked up skull as I did so. There were no windows and even if there were Stephen would be way too fat to squeeze through one.
“ Jason I think I have an idea on how to escape!” I turned around to see stupid Stephen standing up from the bench and pushing the wall.
“ What the hell are you doing?”
“ Seeing if there’s a secret passage like in Start Wars episode 399 when Luke was stuck in Prison. Remember how he found a secret exit? Maybe there’s one here?” I literally slapped my forehead with my hand. Hard enough to probably leave it red. That was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever said to me.