Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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from his forehead with the cuff of his sleeve. Well, that first part was dandy fine. I dug myself into the ground by a big headstone that looked like the ancient folk under it might have been carriage trade. Maybe I ' d get some gold trinkets that ' ud bring a good price in London. Maybe even one of those Viking jeweled swords I heard tell was sometimes inside the caskets. How did you know about those? Crathers interrupted. Later, later, guv. There ' s no time for that now. Just let me tell my tale and sign a written confession first. Well, the London pickpocket went on. 1 got down six feet right fine and uncovered a rotted worm-holed casket. There was no need to lift the casket top as it was rotted away. 1 just picked the dead wood out and looked in. It was terrible! Just a white pile of dust there but one thing glittered - it was a gold bracelet. I reached in and picked it up. Suddenly , so help me by the clang of of Big Ben, that dust just started to blow about like a wind was blowing it wild. Faster and faster the stuff whirled around and all the time a terrible cry of hounds from Hades rang in my ears. Then it took form, right before my very own eyes. It was a ghost! Just like you read about in the castles or see in the flicks. It took me by the hand and led me out of the cemetery and the next thing I knew there were four of them sitting around me. One of them said, You have desecrated our resting place, Emery Neadle, because of your greed. You have disturbed our centuries of peace. The penalty is Death! Now you must become one of us. Have you anything to say for yourself? Anything to say! Blimey, constable, 1 had plenty to say. 1 fell on my knees. I begged. I told them this was my first graveyard I had ever tried to rob. I promised to return to London and never set foot in Dunstable County again. Emery Neadle, it is our decision that you may go free if you confess your crime to the Constable of Dunstable. All the whUe he said that, he put his finger on my forehead and pressed real hard. It seemed to go right into my skull. Then he said Sign a writ- ten confession before Dawn. If you do not, then the death mark I have placed upon you will bring you to us! Neadle ' s face whitened even more. He stood up - jabbing his forefinger against his forehead. It was right here he placed his death finger, Constable right into my brain it seemed to go! Now Neadle was shrieking, wailing like a man possessed. Constable Crathers and his deputy rushed for- ward managing to catch him just as he collapsed. Dawn was just beginning when Emery Neadle regained consciousness. A cry of terror burst through the jail- house window. Paper and pencil he screamed. 1 must sign before it is too late! The constable stood him on his feet, comforting him. Now there, Neadle, just relax. Charlie, here, is going to take good care of you. As Charlie led him to the car outside, Neadle made gasping sounds, trying to talk. A moment later Charlie re- turned to face Constable Crathers, wide-eyed. H-he ' s dead, Constable. Dropped cold stone dead just as I opened the door! Poor devil, said the Constable, but he wasn ' t well. Perhaps it is for the best. Madness is a horrible sick- ness. Y-you don ' t understand, stam- mered Charlie. You ' d better come outside and look at him. A moment later they both stood look- ing down at the would-be-grave- robber before the car. In the centre of his forehead was a hole the size of a forefinger as if a hot poker had been thrust into his skull. The constable looked over the hill- side. Dawn, he miurmured. K. Morrison (Grade 8) There once was a man with a pocket Who thought that he ' d ride on a rocket He said, Well, good-ijyet And started to fly. But he simply forgot how to docket. There once was a boy named Marcus Who loved his dog called Barkus One day he went fishing And heard a loud swishing. And Barkus was swallowed by Sharkus. Bob Maxwell (Grade 5)

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WINTER Der See ist noch gefroren, das Eis liegt dick und schwer, Keine Stimme ruehrt sich, alles scheint so leer. Ganz verlassen liegen Boote an dem Ufer zwischen Weiden, und ich denke mit Verlangen an vergangne Sommerzeiten. Wenn auf blauen Wellen Segelboote munter schwimmen, und ich hoere in Gedanken lautes Lachen, Frohe Stimmen. Noch ist Winter draussen, doch bestimmt schon bald wird es Fruehling warden ueber Wies und Wald . Thomas Henkel(llE) STONE After her tongue licked from her lip the white rose petal and left it like a holy wafer lisping awkwardly stuck to her palate, her hands took up some water in clay jars to wash away the taste of rose-dust. She died, a part of this odd sculpture ' s vomit. O O Melpomene, the rooms in hospitals arrange no place for such imaginings. Mute stone stretches where old bodies ' stench is cloaked respectably beneath the earth. Carpet of grass conceals the termites ' work; breezes scuttle through the monuments plucking from the soil the thought of worms. We muse not on decay, but on mute stone. Old Boy 78