I was to start things off. So, I ran out of Rebecca’s bedroom to the top of the stairs in my string bikini and yelled down for Rebecca’s father. ... began to yell, ‘Mr. Bowen, Mr. Bowen, Mr. Bowen come quick Rebecca needs your help right away. She’s in the bathroom and she crying ~ something is really, really wrong.’ Mr. Bowen was at the top of the stairs by the time I finished yelling for him. He stopped and looked at me in my bathing suit and he grabbed my hand, ‘what’s the matter Kristen?’. Just a little country weekly usually running eight full-size pages, sometimes more and sometimes less; it occupied a single-story block building toward the edge of downtown, a block or so up the street from the Spee-D-Mart. No longer printed on site -- it hadn't been since the early 1960s -- much of the building was little used anymore. The majority of the operation was concentrated in a front room, where there were several computers sitting on several extraordinarily messy desks. Over the. More

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