The Catcher In The Rye Novels & Stories

If he can see every move I make, how will I ever make a move against him? During my rampage of a small bookshelf on the wall next to the bed, I find classic books such as, The Catcher in the Rye, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and so on. Spotting amongst the classics a leather bound book with no title or author. I slowly open it and inside handwritten pages are revealed. May 12th 1998

I stuffed the last piece of clothing into the suitcase and snapped it shut, then I looked around the apartment. Having lived here for five years, my presence was everywhere, from the paintings on the walls to the throw pillows on the couch and the plants on the balcony. Now, those very details felt like a cruel joke. I wheeled my suitcase toward the living room and paused to look at the calendar. New Year’s Day was tomorrow. A fresh start and a brand-new year. Without hesitation, I reached for my phone and reserved a seat on the first high-speed train heading to Cedar Hollow, my hometown.

“Who let this lunatic in? Get him out of here!” She had never liked the Larsons, and now she was looking at Jim like he was a stain on her son’s perfect day. Security started moving in, but Jim didn’t budge. “Back off!” he barked. “Ella’s my girl; none of you have the right to touch her! “Ella, come on. I know you still care about me. You did all of this just to get me to chase after you, right? Just tell them.” I met his eyes, calm and cold.

she stretched her hand into her bag to get her card like she always does. She handed it over to him "You can call me anytime, I would be available" she threw a smile at him "I would do just that" "Alright then, I am headed to work, I am almost late" she waved and hurried to work. James was a tall, handsome guy. Everything a girl would die for. He captured Betty even if she wasn't in her right senses the first time she saw him which was when he helped her against dangers on the streets for that was when some jobless men walked around looking for who they would use as bait, and she was just as vulnerable as they like it.

I can’t remember turning it on. I bend down to pick up the book. It was his favorite, ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ by J. D. Salinger. He took it everywhere he went. The day I had to collect his things at the hospital, it was just this and an old jacket that once belonged to my dad. The book, old and worn, has scribbled handwriting inside, like it was written in a hurry before the thought was lost. I close my eyes and open it on a random page. I read the first quote I can find:

So much so that I barely got through the last pages of my required reading for the semester. And just as I set my book off to the side, my door flew open. “Hi! Sorry. Hiding from someone.” I whipped my head over toward the door and saw someone barreling in. A guy dressed in all black, with black boots and a scuffed black leather jacket and… The guy on the rusty motorcycle? “Uh, hi,” I said. He waved before he closed my door. “This okay? Hope it’s okay. Just need a few minutes.”

I, Richard Newman, had been together with my girlfriend, Shanine Graham, for a long time. She was very innocent. Even though she had already given me her first time, she remained extremely conservative in bed. Unfortunately for her, I was the kind of guy who liked a little more excitement. I had bought her plenty of sexy stockings and outfits before, but she refused to wear any of them. It left me feeling disappointed, feeling as if something thrilling was missing from my life. One day, Shanine suddenly suggested that we go on a trip to relax. However, the day before we were supposed to leave, she suddenly changed her mind and insisted on bringing her best friend, Phoebe Norton, along.

I passed Polly in the hallway. She was pushing a handcart piled with ten or so boxes, arms trembling. Seeing me, she stopped and lowered her head to let me pass. "Distribution going okay?" I asked. "…So-so," her voice hoarse. I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I glanced back. She was still there, hands on the cart, shoulders slumped. The snowlight outside cast pale shadows on her face—white, almost bloodless. The next day, my assistant mentioned casually while dropping off documents, "Mr. Bassett… the employees secretly created a group chat. They call it the 'Cherry Victims Alliance.'"

His companions had stopped laughing and stared in fear at the man who grabbed their leader by the neck. Cathy was staring too but not with surprise or joy. If anything she was more irritated than she had been when she woke up that morning because the man who had come to her rescue was the same in her dreams, the last person she wanted to see. Theodore Cyneric. Gorgeous Theodore Cyneric. And he wasn’t alone. His side kicks Teddy and Max, a mountain of a man, faced the other delivery guys menacingly. “Let me go!” Smoked Teeth screamed as he flailed his arms and legs in the air. One look had Theodore made his mouth drop. "The Hunter?"

She knew she wouldn't stop thinking about the dream until she knew if it was real or not. The blinds of Cara's were drawn, but the sign was flipped to read "open." The light chime of the door rang out as she entered. Very few people were inside, and she easily spotted a boy with light auburn hair sitting on one of the couches, a pile of reading material beside him. He was one of their regulars, coming in with a stack of books every second day. "Daniel?" Arder called to him. Startled, he abruptly lifted his head before setting down the leather-cased book.