Ashbury College - Ashburian Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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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

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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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2-I THE ASHBURIAN to contrast more effectively with the deep black eyes that looked like a deep dark void broken only by the glorious flashes that struck novas in the universe. He knew taat the townspeople didn't like the way he was acting but he didn't care. He was determined not to let them destroy what feelings he had left. His gaze drifted uninterrupted slowly around the smoky tavern. How could his father have accepted these people as friends? These people who thought to show any emotion openly was bad manners. He could feel the scorn they felt for him as they sat with their cigars and beer and pointed at him with their pudgy fingers but he didn't care. He was still outside their group. You could see the cold flame burning inside him, a flame that refused to be extinguished. He still had the strength to think, to question, and not to accept anything without fact. How could his father have accepted this for so long? How often had he sat in this chair, staring at these surroundings, drinking, smoking, talking, content with his filthy environment? The whole place painfully cramped the mind and shrunk the soul, cutting down one's scope to a place bordered by pine and oak. This is what he left his own family for? The whole bar was nothing but a dark black box with its key slowly turning in a lock that could never be re-opened. These thoughts left the poor man in misery, for he was looking for an answer and no one was there to fill the gaps. Time would answer everything but first he IHLISI' find his own faith: something he could hold out onto and let time and space flow through, enough for life and death. These ideas had stopped his weeping. His pain had been replaced by curiosity. Last night his father had been late. He was usually late, but this time me was later than usual and our young man had to look for him. lt was still dusk and the evening fog came in clinging to his face. As he crossed the bridge he couldn't see the water underneath but he knew what it was like, brown water shifting and slithering against the beams of the bridge. Ahead stood a solitary figure leaning on a rail, black and terrifying against the crimson sky. A figure with drooped shoulders and between them a weary head staring at the gurgling below him. The young man had screamed, terrified in anticipation, but the other just sadly turned his white face toward him and then back to the water. Below a pale hand receded under the water as the ripples silently rushed away to leave its surface unbroken once more. He could feel the icy water around his father's neck and the burning as it found its way to the nose and throat. The powerful current tugging at his body bringing him down to the muddy bed, sending a shower of filth into the already rancid water. Then the scum settled slowly on and over the body, lying