Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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13 back the squirming mass of flesh. He was screaming loudly by this time, but for him no help was in sight Slowly I reached for the sharp utensil by my side As I picked it up, a ray of sun bounced off the tip making it seem even more deadly A shiver ran through my vic- tim's body as I continued to move it towards him. The noise now increased and sudden- ly with a vicious kick I was thrown back against the cold white wall of the room. My shattered victim watched the spear- like object with fear and dread. Slowly I lowered the instrument, and, just as it drew near the spot where it was to enter the cloth, my victim wriggled out of my grasp. Quick- ly I pulled it away so as not to draw any un- necessary blood. The tedious task must begin again. As I brought the glistening point near the target, I had to tighten my grasp on the quaking mass below me. Slowly, I brought the point towards the place: tears now gushed from my victim's eyes. I touched the spot and began to push it into the soft white massg then with a thrust it was through: it was finished at last - the diaper was pinned! PATRICIA PENNOCK-Grade X Lament A shot, a bullet, the assassin strikes! All the world drops its flag to half-mast. Tears roll down bewildered faces, Eyes are filled with both pain and fear. He was not our President, Yet, at his death, we too cried. She was not our First Lady, But at her side we suffered. Together we stood, friend and foe. Together we murmured a prayer. In sorrow we assembled - united. We became equal - one in brotherhood. JUDITH DOWLER-Grade X But That Was In Another Country... Damn, said Heinrich Bonner. This was accompanied by such a violent pound of his fist on the wooden table that the naked light bulb, dangling from the paint- chipped ceiling, swung frantically for a few seconds. The little old man across the table broke into convulsive fits of laughter. He lowered his head to his chest, hunched his shoulders and pounded his knee, literally howling with with mirth. He had won another chess game. Shall we have another? he queried. Heinrich nodded. While the old man arranged the board, Heinrich looked around the room. The scene repulsed him. In each corner there was an iron cot, while the wood stove in the centre of the room pro- vided the only heat. The table and four chairs were the only other pieces of furni- ture. A glance through the window into the grey gloom of the morning showed a hundred and fifty of these one-room cabins. all with the same miserable furnishings. But the game was set. The old man leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his chin in deep contemplation. His sharp, black eyes seemed level with the players as he scrutinized each move. Heinrich shoved his queen halfway across the board with the tip of his forefinger and said dully, Your move. Three months in this place, and what do we have? Nothing. He placed his long slender fingers over his greying temples. and silently wished that Marta were there. He glanced down at the gold ring on the smallest finger of his left hand. She had given it to him before the escape. In case I do not succeed, she had said. If I do, you can give it back, she had added with a laugh. Her life had been sacrificed in coming with her family into a worse situa- tion than before. Heinrich Bonner had been a bank manager, but now he was unem- ployed. Again the air was shattered with Herr Schneider's raucous laugh. He had seized Heinrich's queen. I sometimes think the trip would have been worth it only if we could have left him behind, muttered Hein- rich bitterly. The door creaked open. Heinrich was on his feet. 'fHans, my boy, he cried, half jovially, How was it? A tall boy of about twenty had entered the room. His straight blond hair fell over sad blue eyes and a face too worn for the boy's age. Nothing Nothing at all. Same old ans- wer, 'We have nothing at present, but we will contact you if anything becomes avail- ablef Of course we both know it will not. Hans pounded his fists together. Refugeel We are branded as undesirable before we begin. Because we are in large numbers we are labelled with the same mentality and

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12 plained that she wished to get a pass to see her grandparents, her only relatives, who were well on in years. I was filled with pity for this child, who at the age of about thir- teen, had come over to the west with her parents, who had been killed, and now whose only wish was to see her grand- parents again before they died. I watched her as she entered the school house and followed her in hope of hearing the interview. As I entered I heard an of- ficer ask in German: What is your name? 'Anna Veriskovskyf' came the reply. A'What is your age? Fifteen. What relatives have you in East Ber- lin whom you wish to see? My only relatives, my grandparents. What are their names, and where do they live? Mr. and Mrs. Nick Veriskovsky, They live, I think, on I-Iamburg Street. Your reason for wishing to see them? My - My grandparents are very old and will die soon. I - I wish to see them before they die. That was all I heard and a few minutes later I saw the officer get up to confer with another officer. Anna sat rigid in her chair with her hands in her lap. About five minutes later he came back and handed her a piece of paper. As she turned around I saw the tears running down her face - she had got the pass. Anna's big day was the twenty-second of December between the hours of eleven and six. She had a week of preparation and waiting. A During that week Anna and I became good friends. She made preparations and with the little money she had she bought presents for her grandparents: a handker- chief for her grandfather and a piece of soap for her grandmother. In spite of these preparations, time passed very slowly. Finally the twenty-second arrived and Anna, her parcels under her arm, started out. I met her at the checkpoint and we walked through together, for I had a pass to see my mother that day. I offered to help her find the house. We walked up and down various streets near the wall until Anna spotted the house. Boldly she walked up to the door and knocked. A large gruff-looking man opened it and peered down at her. Meekly she in- is ii u quired, 'ADO Mr. and Mrs. Nick Veriskov- sky live here? Yes, he replied, but they have gone to the country to be with a friend who is very ill. When will they be back? Not until about came the reply. Oh, replied Anna after a long pause. Then with tears in her eyes she added, 'Tm Anna Veriskovsky, their granddaughter. Tell them I came. RUTH THOMAS-Grade XI eight-thirty tonight, Leaves Born from sticky buds they burst In riches green and beauty first: Then steals in glory to o'ercome each fringe The gold and crimson with sunlight tingedg The wind, the cold, the frost foretell The nearness of the deepening spell, While parent sheds the dead from high, Whose strength diminished with beauty's rise, Like tears that spring from growing love Fall from the darkening sky above: They float and swirl in eddy spray, Flames that triumph o'er shades of day, And they as only nature's slave, Fall at measure to their grave. MARCIA JACKSON-Grade X11 Ordeal At High Noon The house was hushed. Then, sudden- ly, an ear-piercing scream shattered the silence. I could put it off no longer. Day after day these unfortunate occurrences happened -1 followed by scenes, tears and tantrums. Life was too short and no human being should have to endure this. Why must I be the one continually selected for this job? I who am sought everywhere: but it must be done! Quickly I hurried up the stairs. As I paused at the door, once again doubts arose in my mind, but these were overcome by the thought that if 'twere done, when tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly. So, I seized my victim and hurried into the next room. Then the struggle began! Eventually I forced him, writhing and wriggling onto the cold table top. With my knee on his arms and my elbows against his legs, he was trapped at last. Quickly I grasped a strip of rough white cloth and again forced

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14 ability. West Berlin - city of hope and orosperityf' Hans, before the war, all Germans were equal, West Germans, East Germans. all Germans. Germany was one country and Berlin, a united capital city. But now, here he threw up his hands in despair, the allies have split our country in two, and ,who knows which is the better side to be on! The chess board crashed to the floor. The old man raised himself to his feet. All mirth had vanished from his face. You should be ashamed, both of you. Which side of the wall should you be on? This side, of course! Do you see foreign soldiers marching up and down in the streets? Are you chased off the street at ten o'clock at night? Are you forced to live under a gov- ernment you loathe? The old man paused for breath. As for jobs, they will come. You cannot hope to find a situation com- parable to the one you left behind, yet. But gradually things will improve. But why can we not get jobs? asked Hans, Most willing. 'iAh. yes, but can you expect one city suddenly to fill positions for the thousands who enter every month? Yes, long ago, there were no refugees, but that was in another country. JANET HARRISON-Grade XI of us have ability and are Hans, replied the old man. A Bitter Memory A large gnarled hand swiftly and care- fully stitches with the awkward needle and coarse thread. The strong wrists, thick from years of pulling in full nets, firmly hold the hemp taut. The deep-set, steel-blue eyes steadily gaze at the work before them, as the skilfully mend the holes. finished, he rises from his a shading tree, and stands tall, with shoulders thrown large fingers The nets bench under straight and back. Legs apart, he slightly sways from foot to foot, as though he were on the deck of a gently rocking boat. Walking down the pier with big strides and head high, he breathes deeply, as though he were taking a store of the salty sea-air. While calling to a ship-mate, his eyes quickly move across the horizon, and a faint smile flckers across his face. His wrinkled, weather-beaten complexion, darkened from windburn, relaxes a little. A deep sigh comes from within the sturdy body. The sailing will be good today, he says to himself quietly. The nets laid out yesterday? Yes. They're full now. The tuna run strong, and fast, and they are big. We have good catch, good catch today. The many crew members climb onto the deck of the Messana , named after its home port. The fast vessel seems almost to fly as it swiftly skims through the choppy waters. Being only a short distance from the port, the nets are reached quickly. There other fishermen and their boats join the Messana . The tedious job of pulling the nets, se- curing them, hooking the many large tuna. and then hauling them, one by one into the holds of the crafts, is begun. The mighty fish are heavy and thrash about, making it difficult to keep them on the grapples. One slides sideways onto the deck. The men quickly bend forward, to duck the swishing tail of the large tuna. A great splashing changes the deep blue wave into white foam and salt spray. A giant tuna is not to be convinced that he is going to be hauled aboard with the rest of his kind. There is a moment when the strong men slightly relax their arms so that they may fight with the large tuna a little more. The strong tail of the tuna lashes out, there is a muffled voice, sudden movement, splashing. Seconds later, a cry of anguish rings out, so piercing that even the gulls pause in their wild screaming. The fervent cries of, Man overboard! Cut the engines! Man overboard! are heard, as all the men rush to the boat's side. A man shouts, Carl! Carl! Someone get the ropes! Carl! We save you. Are you safe? Carl! A fait moan is heard and then the answer comes. i'No, leave me . . . you . . . cannot . . . save me . . . the tuna . . . the tuna more impor . . . tant. My leg . . A gasp is heard. The heavy woollen caps come off each bent head as Carl disappears in the warm Mediterranean. Giovanni Dallaszandro shakes himself abruptly. Remembering fate of dear Carl will never get this net mended, he mutters, and begins once more to mend a net he has mended a hundred times before -1 the same net he mended the day of Carl's death. MARILYN WILLIAMS-Grade IX