Bishop Luers High School - Accolade Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN)

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Consider the lonely unicorn He looks dejected and forlorn. A mythical creature some might think While others claim it ' s quite extinct. Even though I ' ve never seen one I don ' t doubt there ' s ever been one. Think of the humiliation If you were such an odd creation. What did Mother Nature do? She gave it one horn ' stead of two. I would not like the shame and scorn That comes from having just one horn. JanetGildea Of Crystalline Jamaica The gold key slipped into the bitter cold lock. A turn and crystalline ice molecules shattered and dissipated. A thick wooden door hinged open into the crusty room. The bachelor removed his key from its prison and dropped it back into a shallow pants pocket. His hat was grapled by an aged hand and placed upon a musty coffee table. The dead-black overcoat found its hook. A stuffy couch wheezed as it accepted its owner. Aged eyelids dropped in relief, and cracks in the old man ' s face receded into nothingness. Culmy eyebrows bushed forward as a ledge of shrubbery and cast wicked shadows over the sleepy eyes. His brow rippled as a sea at unrest. Hollow cheek bones receded to great depths. A jagged nose marked a pinnacle over this rugged terrain. His weary bones settled and folded. He slept. Five hours, seventeen point four six minutes. Eyelids spurted upward! A violent green glow shone from empty sockets, then slipped away, revealing plalinous green globes with opaque white pupils. Weary muscles gave a mighty heave, and the sorcerer sat erect. A filmy smile raced over his lips. He reached his hands out in front of him. They sparkled but an instant, and his whole body was engulfed in a glistening yellow splurr of energy. The light grew, and reached the room ' s borders. And then it was gone. A black-robed figure stood erect in the center of the room. An invisible arm pointed and an ancient doorknob hovered above the ground. He approached, and held. Then, turning it, he pulled it aside as if a door were attached to it. And Lo! Where a doorway would have been, if there was a door, there was an entrance — into golden light. Quite calmly, the sorcerer entered. The doorknob closed behind him. The vastness of infinity bowed before him in the form of the Criankoll Void. Projected by original thrust, the black cloak slipped through the beauteous zone. Yellow globes of warmth lighted indefinitely. Conies tripped by. Everything in this void was weighless, and had motion with direction. The magician pointed a lurid finger at a passing pyra- mid. An erupting flash emitted a half dozen lunes. Hurled in boomerang fashion, they slipped from sight. Very amused by this sport, the sorcerer boarded a passing flat ellipsoid. It shuttled under his weight and, after taking an appropriate new course, continued on. He splashed along, striking objects at all sides. A rare confortium soared by at a speed no less than 1600 m.p.h. An ap- proaching sphere was steered clear of a collision with a blast of mystic energy from the sorcerer ' s palm. The sphere bounded away with renewed force. A web of cosmic energy blocked the way. He hurled a glowing orange spear and sheared an opening in its sticky coils. The sorcerer cackled with horror as he whipp- ed through the opening. He sped under the culmination of a parabolic curve. Hollow triangles spun on a finite plane. 18

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Here And Now My favorite place to be with you is here. My favorite place to be with you is now. Because. although living with memories is nice, creating them is better. Paul Bauman He is a centaur beneath a willow dreaming softly phantasy makes us vulnerable to shooting stars and wishing stars impossible stars that trace their journeys through our hearts and leave us cold or searching, dreamers yet. Vicky Ramirez Smile Like a magnificent white swan moving slowly across the water, let a smile glide upon your face. Seemingly effortless motion dominating the entire scene makes your presence a placid place. Beautifully soft ripples touching an endless destination refreshes things outside your course. The magic of your pleasant smile showing no signs of strain or ending creates a wonderful life source. Paul Bauman What is the Church now — Without a faith to give it existence? A steeple rising from above other man-creations pointing the way to salvation? It was a thing of beauty, once. When its timbers held the one life of many people. Now, only hollow voices echo a faint ghost of what might have been. Jean Knight Cindy Glassley 17

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He snatched a passing cube. It was small and clear. It glowed with brilliance and defiance all its own. The mystic howled with laughter and hurled it into a hollow conic. As it disappeared into the opening, it shrank. In fact, the further it traveled, the smaller it grew, propor- tionally. It could fall forever. The sorcerer looked up in time to see a prickly star spinning directly at him. Another flash erased the pro- jectile from existence. Splattered Stardust dotted the black cloak. Then the ellipsoid slowed, and he knew the time had come. He sighed as the golden doorknob appeared in the distance. Seconds later, his hand was upon it, and he flung open a window of darkness. Weary bones clamber- ed in and the doorknob howled close. A tingle fled down the magician ' s back, and he shook like a dog out of water. He rested wearily on the couch. And closed his eyes. Open again. The old man stared at his black hat and sniffed his jagged nose. A yawn. Very slowly. He rose and smiled. Always did like those dreams. The hunched figure shuffled towards the kitchen, and lightly brushed a bit of Stardust ' from his shoulder. John Andersen I CAN I moved the pieces closer together I conquered another mountain I reached another peak and struggled to attain the next mountain that awaited me The move was mine to make I looked up at the clock and decided that it was time Chaste and sweet, I rocked the boat onetime too often I moved the piece into place and society squealed it writhed jerked its twisted morbid body and made way for woman Dave Bergeron Something In My Eye If beauty is in the eye of the beholder and love is blind, then how can two people see a beautiful love? Paul Bauman Walking through the mipper mist Drowsy, dreary day Then drop degrees and mist it freeze And snowflakes come to play. Wading through new white-washed wind In blinding blizzard storm, Stomping feet, to hope they keep Alive and (wiggly) warm. Quite quick, snows snatch themselves away Their playing time is done, The light it grows, and me, it shows A tingling treat for fun. Now up degrees, and waxing warm To winters white says nay, Now clouds they break, and sun it take Earth ' s crystal cloak away. Squashing through the mipper mud Drowsy, dreary day Shoes unglued, and socks look lewd And home ' s not far away. Jean Knight 19