Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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VAGABOND It was the hottest day in Pine Valley for seven years. There wasn ' t a cloud for miles around, and everything was green and flourishing. Annie Wyatt strolled lazily along the country road ; it was too hot to run. Hey, Anthea, a voice called from behind, Wait up, will ya? Annie, stopped dead in her tracks. The little neighbourhood pest was back on her trail again. She turned around slowly and, with a determined look on her face, marched up to Jay. Git! she yelled in his ear. Git yourself! shouted Jay back at her. Annie knowing she couldn ' t outwit the little seven-year-old, proceeded on her way. Where ya goin ' , Anthea? That ' s none of your business, answered Anrue coolly. Okay, then I ' ll follow ya. Just try it. Annie broke into a run and soon enough lost Jay. She was exhausted and sat down on the bank of a stream border- ing the woods. It was about noon, she figured, since the sun was right overhead and the day had become hotter. The cool water felt so good on her hot face that she didn ' t even hear the footsteps approaching from behind her. Give me a hand, will ya, honey? Ma foot ' s done gone to fes- terin ' . Annie turned back suddenly, and there stood a lame old man. He was a pathetic sight. A pair of torn pants and a knapsack strapped to his back were his only belongings. His right foot was wrapped in wet moss. Aimie said nothing, but took the old man ' s hand and helped him down the slightly sloping bank. What happened to your foot that it ' s all swellin ' Uke that? I done went an ' stepped on a snake, that ' s what, repUed tiie old man, splashing water on his face. Not ' cause it ' s ma pastime or nothin ' but my eye, it started to water like it always does on a steamin ' day like this, an ' I couldn ' t see two feet in front o ' me. Annie looked at the old man slurping up the fresh spring water. She hked him. TeU me, honey, what ' s your name, if it ain ' t Florence Night- ingale? Oh, my name ' s Anthea Wyatt, laughed Annie, but you kin call me Annie. That ' s what everybody calls me, ' cept the little pest who lives down the way. The old man stared into the stream as if he could see through the bottom. Don ' t suppose any little fishes swim around in this brook. 1 haven ' t eaten anythin ' since yesterday mornin ' , an ' even that was a pretty skinny rabbit, if I ever saw one. Annie turned abruptly. Why don ' t ya come to my house? My maw kin give ya a real good meal. My maw is the best cook this side of the lake. She ' s even got a ribbon t ' prove it. Aw, well that ' s real nice, o ' ya, but 1 don ' t wanna barge inla yer family life like that. ' Sides, 1 gotta git movin ' on an ' find a job, if I can. Annie stood up defiantly. Well, my maw doesn ' t find bein ' nice to folks any trouble. The old man chuckled at the girl ' s determination. He lifted him- self up awkwardly onto his good foot. Better git started if we wanna make it before nightfall; ma foot ' s not good for walkin ' yit. The old man stretched out his hand, and Annie took it and held on tight. The two plodded along the country road together, until they disappeared into the horizon. Veronica Pimenoff, Form V B ENTWINED Love, hate, together they mingle. Bitter, sweet, the two entwine. Heart meets soul, and the two caress. With love, hate, does anything matter? The two so close, the mind is found. Stiff from fear — Loose with awe — together, forever, the two entwine. Donna Cochrane, Form VI A DAVID ' S EYES The forest was silent and green. But it had been green for cen- turies. Fallen trunks of trees decayed, and were invaded by numer- ous minute foragers of the insect world. The sun had shone for cen- turies, countless days, and its metaUic beams split the green and dark of the woods. Slender and rotund trunks cut the light, white sky into strips of darkness. David ' s eye followed the roots to the top branches, the top branches to the roots of every tree, again and again. He checked tlie directions of every bamboo shoot and every clump of dry weeds. He listened. He heard the silence so well that he would detect any disturbance or rearrangement of it. He knew, thougli, that there was, most likely, anotlier pair of eyes and ears waiting for his mistake. It did not come that day, nor had any mistake come for the past three weeks. Along the edge of the woods, David continued his surveillance, leaving just a yard of foliage be- tween himself and the open area. Do you see anytliing, David? David raised his hand. David saw nothing. Witii the same plodding, the two men returned to a cluster of five huts. Casey was leaning against some cases of ammuni- tion whittling a bamboo whistle for his son. Anything, David? David shook his head. He saw nothing. Well, David, if you didn ' t see anything, there ain ' t anything or anybody round here. Right? Yes sir; nothing. He agreed to that statement, but he added, There must be something though. What ' s that, David? There was something? No, not that 1 could see, but they have to be somewhere. For the past week I ' ve been out there, everywhere. Nothing. 22

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AN ODE TO ROBERT FRANCIS KENNEDY Slowly; Almost in silence. The train pushed on. Everyone was tired. Perhaps frustrated. But. They are known For never giving in. They pushed on. They stopped at every station, Every stop. There was absolute silence. But. My imagination? The heat perhaps? All I hear. His, The survivor ' s, Heart, Throb. After dark we arrived at Arlington. Young and old Alike were there. Family, Friends, And clergy, and one lone mourner. Freckles, A dog. This Was his master ' s victory. He, Could be with the great ones. And, In the distance, - Glory, Glory, Hallelujah. Helen McGill, Form 111 B THE PONY A dusty yellow road in the ardent solar rays was a golden ribbon zigzagging in a green land. Greedy farmhouses, which seemed to en- gulf the sun ' s rays to nourish their pride, were lined up along the road within close proximity of each other. A little cloud of dust progressed around a bend whistUng: J ' ai du bon tabac dans ma tabatiere. J ' ai du bon tabac, tu n ' en aura pas. Long pendulous braids flopped on the little girl ' s back as she shuffled her bare feet in the Ught dust. Her progress was slightly delayed by a distraction caused by a family of birds housed in a taU poplar. With only a few seconds for count-down, a volley of pebbles attacked the screaming birds who fled their antagonist . I ' m not bad with the slingshot, she mused as she discovered a baby bird injured by one of the projectiles. His feeble attempts to fly produced a grin on the girl ' s face, and she pursued her way. Crawling on her stomach in the tall grass near her home, the alert tomboy observed a giant butterfly, as a panther observes his prey. The big black and orange-vwiged insect, perched on a dandelion, proceeded unsuspectingly to clean its antennae. The little girl crept still closer. 1 bet this is the biggest butterfly there is, thought the keen observer. Even the girls in my class who have collections don ' t have such big and pretty ones. Like the agile panther, the child acted with precision. I wonder if he: was the only one, she questioned, as she exam- ined the dead butterfly ' s crumpled wings in her tiny hand. Delilah! Come at once, my daughter. The barefooted maid skipped to her mother ' s caUing. The mother, gently squeezing her daughter ' s shoulders, explained: Delilah, you ' re a big girl now. 1 know that you will understand what I ' m about to tell you. The mother paused for emphasis. Your father, she pursued, has been v orking very hard, but still the crops are ruined because of the hurricane three weeks ago. Since no crops means no money, we have sold your pony, Samson, to pay the rent. The man who is coming to buy him tomorrow also has an eight-year-old daughter, who will take good care of him. Throughout this lecture the child ' s face remained constant. Her mother tenderly embraced her and sent her out to play. Outside, the wind was hurrying httle balls of tumbleweed along the way. The man has a httle girl who will have your pony was the statement that went around and around in the httle girl ' s head. Another girl would have her pony! Suddenly she started with a determined pace towards the bam. Samson greeted his mistress with a happy neigh as he perceived her beside his stall. Delilah rubbed noses with her pony and gave him a handful of sugar cubes. Saying good-night to her pet, she drew near the barn door. The fine wheat dust in th e air and the dry straw will burn well, she thought, as she lighted a match. Marie Gauthier, Form V A LA MORT La mer semblait calme mais elle ne I ' etait pas. L ' equipage du vaisseau, Faithful tirait furieusement sur les voiles. C ' etait une tentative desesperee mais futile. L ' eau entrait dans les cabines in- ferieures. La goelette souvcnt etail allee en mer auparavant sans desastre mais une exception etait evidente. Quelques hommes essayaient de boucher les fuites pendant que les autres enlevaient l ' eau avec toute leur force. C ' etait en vain. Les marins savaient que c ' etait la fin. lis attendaient leur destin en silence. Sur la mer tranquille leur navire fidele se couchait avec le soleil. Hanna Deutschenschmied, Form IV A 21

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M ' be they ' ve heard that David ' s out there lookin ' for them, so they retreated into their submarine rice paddy caverns. You just keep those baby blue eyes peeled for them rascals. You ' ll latch onto them pretty soon. Casey bent his head lower, and closer to David, and indicated the crown of his head. Old bean ' s givin ' me signals. Signals? Yeah! Like morse code; two hours ache, one hour jabby, goes on like that. Means th ' enemy ' s comin ' . My head never fails; always worked in tlie last war when the shell exploded near my bed. Y ' know, me and you ought to work out a deal: my head, your eyes. I ' ll be on the watch. It was a matter-of-fact statement. David had said it every night. For six hours he would sit in the darkest part of a gloomy night. Scouting tlie voids of the jungle for any sign of life other than the croaking frogs and the drone of insects, David would wait until morning. In the morning David would have the light of an occidental sun to aid him in finding the enemy and the traps they had laid. He slept on a matted rug of bamboo leaves, and during that night the cool, damp air sent a chill through his tired but ready body. He shivered, and he dreamed dreams that proved the life he now led, a nightmare. For once, he did not see tlie blood, broken, splintered bones, skin tightly bound to thin bones, or sad, wrinkled faces. He could see his parents and brothers; he could feel the cold, but it was snow and crisp winter air. He could see his friends whom he used to go around with. He could touch the freedom. He was a prisoner of war, but had not yet been captured by the enemy. David awoke with bleary eyes to an orange dawn. Black puffs of smoke drifted through the sky to dissolve into nothing. David tliought . . . . and nothing I saw. Casey squatted at the hut ' s entrance with liis helmet balanced on his knee and his submachine gun slung across his shoulder. Hey, David, wipe the sleep from your eyes. M ' be we ' ll catch a few of them rascals, eh? Yeah, Casey, David murmured, as he grabbed his rifle and reached for his helmet. He always reached first for his rifle. It was what he had learned, and he always thought it most beneficial for his health. A new day had dawned and a new chance to do a job that he had been trained to do. The air was stUl cool, but in a few hours the sun would scorch anything without the protection of the overhanging trees. The march began; the five men filed out into the depths of the jungle. David began his surveillance of every part and every form of life of the jungle. His eyes darted past a clump of dry weeds, but they returned and rested on the clump, which never moved. Then it breathed. David had stood stiU for a few minutes, and Casey and the other men had not moved. David signalled an ad- vance, and they spread out to flush and intercept the enemy. David set himself a semi-circular path towards the side of the weeds. His eyes never strayed from the target as he crept on. With the suddenness of imminent death, rifle shots and screams filled the air. The weeds had not breathed again, and David had not moved. His hps were dry, and he bit his lower Up tensely, not nervously. He checked his cocked rifle with his hands, not his eyes, and took a step forward. The world was black. The blackness was not night, for there were no stars or moon or candles burning. There was no movement in his body, ordy slight pain in his head. He felt warmth on his face and eyes, and he tried to bUnk a substance from his eyes. He remembered a shot from his left and then a recurring shot from be- huid. After the first one, David knew he must have fallen, and he had felt the tightness in his throat as he tried to scream. He knew that it must be blood ebbing from his face and bUnding his eyes. He only hoped that tliat was true, that it was only blood blinding him and not scraps of metal. Oh boy, you are a mess. Them eyeballs of yours is hanging out. No more sightseeing, David. Don ' t worry. You ' U live, and we ' ll get to an aid station safe and sound. Private! Give me a hand. David you should a seen that httle feUa jump when I got him. I told you my head never fads, an ' now you got one that might work. Casey laughed and kept talking and murmuring about life and the httle fella he had shot. David was numb, except for a shiver and the thought of an accompanying winter scene. Ann Roberts, Form V B j THE LOST DOG He was obviously lost. His tail drooped and he whimpered pathe- tically as the people of the city hurried about their business. No one noticed the poor little dog except me. He wouldn ' t have looked too bad if he had had a bath. Under the grime of the city existed a tawny brown coat. Around his muzzle, silver hairs mingled with tlie brown. On his cliest, too, the mixture gave a somewhat mottled look uiitd it slipped into the wide white ruff. One paw was sus- pended in tlie air as the small nose sniffed tliis way and that. All of his underside and legs were covered with filthy slush. He wore no collar, but he must have been somebody ' s pet for no bones showed themselves. Aimlessly he wandered about, sniffing at legs, and often receiving a pushing shove. He whimpered some more as the cars zipped past his nose. The minutes passed. Still the crowd did not seem to notice. Finally the furry head was lowered dejectedly onto his paws. If only something could be done to make this one small member of the world happier. But the people did not care, and i was only a lamp-post. Kathie Milnes, Form IV B 23