Aldershot Secondary School - Leonidata Yearbook (Burlington, Ontario Canada)

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NAIL HEADS We ' ll be over the target in one and a half minutes. Are you all set? John asked. As he made the final adjustment in his parachute, Bill Cleland turned and replied, Yea, sure! Boy, I hope this jump will be good. It ' s the last practice I can get in before the contest . Suddenly the ' ready ' light came on signifying that the plane was over the correct spot. Bill turned toward the door. The wind was howling through the opening, but he grasped the frame and pulled himself nearer the edge. At the okay sign and a wish of good luck from John, Bill took a deep breath and launched himself into space. He was skydiving - the greatest sport in the world. He loved it, and nothing else would satisfy his desire for freedom and adventure. He dropped faster and faster. By shifting his weight and position Bill determin- ed to cor rect all previous mistakes and to come closer to the target area than he ever had before. His delay in opening his chute until the last possible second would allow him to allign himself perfectly, and then he would drift exactly on target. On the ground Phil was busy recording the success of the previous jumpers. He glanced up occasionally to watch the tiny figures rapidly fall away from the plane. George, a newcomer to the sport , was observing Bill Cleland ' s technique. They both stood and followed the small outline as it drew nearer. Suddenly George asked, Isn ' t Bill going off course? After studying cautiously Phil realized that Bill was drifting downwind away from the target. Starting to run for the jeep he cried, He sure is! Come on! We ' d better get the ambulance there to help him. In a few seconds he was in the jeep and had checked all the medical supplies. Bill was downwind even farther by now. George jumped in and they drove towards the spot where they thought Bill was likely to land. Phil whispered almost in a prayer, I hope Bill hasn ' t got Psychoanal Fixation. George shuddered as he recalled what that was, ' the unconscious staring at an object as it constantly appears to grow larger as one falls towards it ' . The wind was tearing at his face and goggles, but that was all part of the sport. Besides, Bill didn ' t notice it, for he was concentrating. He was concentrating, and he couldn ' t take his eyes off the small red dot. It was fascinating and it was pulling him towards it. That same feeling one gets when standing at the brink of a waterfall and the water seems to make him lean towards the crest... it was eating up the time. If Bill didn ' t snap out of it soon it would be too late for the chute to have any effect in breaking the fall. But the red colour was getting larger and larger and, with every successive second, its power of attraction grew stronger and stronger. Bill tried to tear himself away from it, but he couldn ' t. He couldn ' t seem to take his eyes from that spot. With his whole attention captivated by that object he couldn ' t concentrate sufficiently to open his chute. The red was now recognizable as a barn. He strained again and again, but his eyes wouldn ' t budge. Slowly he could make out the smaller details of the building - the peaked roof, the large door, the smaller windows, and the varia- tion in colour. It was too late. Now he could see clearly the planking on th e roof and the chips in the paint. For an instant he saw the nail heads. Glen Forrester 12D 45

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ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD Bright, glittering, they sparkle; through elastic bands and tightened springs with chewing gum and celery strings... they glow. Words, sentences, they mangle; to say those things of seeming sense — as though you ' re chewing fifty cents... is woe. Teeth, all around, they juggle; but when they have the job complete with spaces filled and looking neat... they ' ll go! Barbara Gillmor 13B TO MY LOVE I have stood by a lonely lake And watched sweet Morn raise up her hand To hide the winking stars and night But I ' d not touched the hand of Morn Nor seen her lovely face ' Til I met you. David Holt 13A NATURE ' S HOME The foamy-white water cascaded over the shelf of jagged rocks and broke into smallwhitecaps as it collided with the clear water of the river. The fisher- man stood knee deep, just below the falls and cast his line to the more peaceful part of the river just outside of the grasping reach of the torrent Green trees and shrubs grew out of a seemingly sheer wall of stone and danced merrily in the brisk breeze. Tiny, scarlet berries stood out brightly amidst the greens and browns of the forest. Sunlight filtered through heavy foliage causing the water to sparkle merrily as it gaily careened over the rocks. This is nature ' s home-a wild, beautiful, fascinating abode. Sharon Simpson 9A

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ME I sit and I dream in my own funny way - I ' m under an elm tree of some by-gone day. It ' s hot and it ' s June and it ' s humid as well; To study in weather like this must be hell. A spider alights, but too small to do harm: I ' m scared, but I watch as he crawls up my arm. It ' s hot and I ' m dreamy; so move I do not; The spider is restless and moves from my spot. The afternoon drags, and I sit and I dream: Too bad this old elm ain ' t made of ice cream; Too bad things are not what I want them to be; Too bad that I ' m lazy; too bad that I ' m me. David Holt 13A MY MOUNTAIN Towering, massive, like a steeple. Surging up above the valley, Scraping stars down from the heavens Wrapped in mists and wondrous glory Stands my mountain—secret mountain Fashioned only for the godly. Ancient Gods as little children Played upon her mist-wrapped summits. Practised magic in her caverns. Built their castles (wondrous castles ) On the snow peaks of my mountain. Silhouetted ' gainst the sunset, Mist-wrapped, haunting, awesome, lonely. Is a haven for the mortals Weary of Earth ' s constant strifing. Seeking shelter from the tumult. Seeking shelter at my mountain. There these mortals shall find shelter. There these mortals shall find wisdom. And in simple children ' s guises Shall return to the cities Teaching lesser men peace magic. Taught by the Gods on My Mountain! Marcia Mones , 12B