Ashbury College - Ashburian Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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22 THE ASHBURIAN tions who so utterly loathed and detested each other, that there was con- stant war. They were a primitive, fierce, cruel race, possessing uncanny strength and cunning. VVhenever two parties from each clan met, the earth would shake and groan under their blows. Eventually, the Creator grew bored with this, too. He had the two clans wipe out each other, then he crushed the world in his fist. He pon- dered over what to try next. Then the thought came to him. He de- cided to build a world of good and evil. He would balance them equally. The forces of good would oppose the forces of corruption. Both sides were superior beings with supreme intelligence. Their weapons were more than modern. He now found the world very interesting, for he hadn't decided who should be allowed to prevail, the pure ones or the evil ones. Of course their wars were beyond imagination: such was their weaponry. just when one side was about to overthrow the other, the will to survive saved the loser. Then the Creator was interrupted. Again came the shout: 'juniorl Come home to dinner at oncef R. H. D. Halupka AN EXCITING SHGRT STORY Last Monday I remember getting up and feeling that this was going to be a good week - so I thought. I got dressed, had breakfast and went off to school. It was just a normal day. As usual on Monday morning, we had a meeting with the Headmaster, Mr. Joyce. He told us all the important things that happened during the week. But he missed one that was very important to me. So, after the meeting, we all went to classes. XV e have physics Hrst period every Monday morning. It was just another physics' period, like any other. Then came English. I thought that as usual we would read a short story Qwe have been reading short stories latelyj. But today was different - today we had to fuvfite a short story. IVell, that was a surprise, because I like writing short stories. Or at least I thought I did. Uiell, our master was kind enough to give us that period to start writing 1t. I took out my pen, got a pad, and settled down to think of an exciting topic. The bell went and I still didn't have an exciting, or interesting topic. That night we had an English prep. so I thought I would write the story then - because I like writing exciting stories. So that night I took out my pen and pad, and this time I sat for half an hour and nothing came to my head. And I said to myself- But I like writing stories. The next day we had English. XYC were told again we could work on our short stories. Everyone seemed eager to get to work, expanding and deepening what he had written yesterday. NYhat did I do? I sat for

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l l I I l il u I I l l i I F 1. gr il l l l l ki v 1 l l i 5- l il I 4 l l THE ASHBURIAN fl XYirh a macabre taste for interior decoration, weasels, at once the most efficient machines of destruction and jovial make-up artists, line their nests with bloody fur and bones and dried-up meats -- their hunt trophies. Eye for eye and tooth for tooth. the weasel is about the bloodthirst- iest animal in creation: the size of an enemv cannot deter him, and the skull ofa weasel has been found nicely embedded in the neck of an eagle. Up to two feet in length the weasel is, of course, the farmer's friend, the scourge of rodents. l lis white winter coat is fittinglv the traditional ornament of kings, nobles, and judges. More than 5Il,000 skins have gone into robes for a British coronation. Multiply that scrap of devilish fury 50 times and you have the likeness of a wolverine: incredibly strong, though slow, he can drag a carcam three times his size for a mile or more. Breaking into a cabin he lacks taste for decoration, and leaves it a shambles. Finding the hunter's food cache, he fills himself and overflows and sprays what he leaves with a foul-smelling musk, marking the residue as his own. About a million wild mink are trapped each year for the fashion and comfort of our women. Active in the day and at night, the restless mink is equally at home in the forest and in water. Small game birds and henhouses are his urge, and he will vary the plat dn jour with fish, frogs, and other aquatic life. His place of domicile is a muskrat hole in a stream bank, a cavity under tree roots, a hollow log or stump. H. R Plummer CREATOR On a day that was, he decided to create a peaceful world, a world where the inhabitants were meek, mild, and simple. He made it a world of tranquility, brightness, and sunshine. ln this creation it never rained. but there were little sparkling streams flowing down picturesque moun- tain sides. It was warm, but not hot, it was cool but not cold. The peo- ple were slightly intelligent: clever enough to appreciate the beauty and simplicity - and that was some cleverness. They enioyed soft music and paintings in soft colours. He gave the people love. so there was no need for violence or war. 'Yes', thought the Creator. 'this is beautifulf Then he saw every- thing-too beautiful, too perfect. ln a sudden fit of impatience and anger he destroyed the world. He ordered floods, famine and disease. and wiped out the last of the terrified world. This time, because he was in an annoyed, even fierce, mood, he created a world of hate and violence. He made the inhabitants belliger- ent giants, uglv, eonceited, and powerful. He divided them into two fac-

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THE ASHIJURIAN 3, +0 minutes and thought about a stupid boy who didn't have fun at a dance after spending all week getting ready for it. That didn't sound too exciting, or original, so another period was wasted. Right about now I was getting mad. I kept telling myself that I liked writing stories- but I hadn't written anything al week long. Again, the next day we were allowed to 'continue' our stories. .-Xgainfl sat there thinking of something I could write about. Then I thoughft that perhaps someone might be amused by my trials of finding a subiect to write on. Not new, but it was just about the only thing I eould do. I have not yet thought of something really suitable, but I still like writin stories. ., g J. C.. xi.1Ctif,m1t1 A DREAM COME TRUE fwith apologies to the Readers' Digestj The eyes are diamonds, harsh and straight and bright. The hair glitters and there is not the dullness of gold. The face is the best quality silk. Quite flawless: it goes without saying really that her mind is pure, her touch gentle, her speech soft and modulated. Her smile welcomes all. She walks the streets like a queen waiting for the opening of parlia- ment, apart from the scene and the people who belong to it. She has none of the ordinary aptitudes, such as athleticism, but she has one gift anyone would cherish and that is ctiritas. You can find her doing most things: talking to anyone who wants to talk to her, cheering on a game. She makes no distinction of age, race, colour, or creed. Some look at hands: her eyes are everything. Clearly they belong to her face. Her whole get-up sparkles like the cleanliness of an unpolluted river. Her conversation is never bitchy, so the doors of their houses Cif they have theml are always open to her. She is the finest person I know. J. Roxarns OBLIGATION A DECISION BETXYEEN NIISERY AND PEACE He sat deiected and alone at a corner table. The coffee cup lay be- side his hand untouched and his cigarette slowly burned unnoticed in the ashtray. His face was white, whiter than any word eould describe and the skin over it was stretched taut to produce a skull-like image of transparency. Below one could see the deliclte blue veins, throbbing with the warm blood flowing through them. He hadn't eaten for days and his eyes seemed to bear witness that he had been weeping rather severely. The red swollen sockets just seemed