Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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ll Can't you give us anything, lady? No. I'm sorry. O.K. The leader turned. Let's go. Mrs. Burns shut the door after them softly. She leaned against the door, as everything began to swim before her eyes. ........ . Suddenly Freddy was standing in the room again, skinny little dark-haired Freddy, looking up at her through his long, dark lashes-pleading. Mom, why can't I? Spike and the other guys are going out for apples. Can't I go? Please? Quickly she thought of ways and means to dis- suade him. Wouldn't you rather have a party, instead? she asked, her mind racing to see how she could carry through the plan on such short notice. Spike and the other boys could come here. You could have hot dogs and pop, play games, and then go to the movies. Wouldn't you rather do that, Freddy? For a moment the boy appeared to be swayed. Then, with a stubborn set to his jaw, so like his fathers, he declared: That wouldn't be half as much fun as going out for apples. Spike said we could have super fun. Besides, - a happy thought occurred to him I could have a party like that for my birthday. She tried to argue with him, but finally gave in. When she saw his joy as he got into his cowboy regalia, she felt a little ashamed for trying to dampen his enthusiasm. Remember, Freddy, be careful. Watch the lights when you cross the Drive, and be back by eight. O.K., Mom. She remembered the twinkle in his eyes, as he and Spike and the other guys had come to the door a half -hour later. Trick or treat, Mom, he had grinned. She remembered how nervous she had grown as the time went by. Eight o'clock, eight-thirty, nine -then she began to phone the neighbours. No, we haven't seen Freddy. Our own boy hasn't come in yet, as a matter of fact. The door-bell rang. When she answered it, a beefy, red-faced policeman confronted her. Mrs, Burns? There's been an accident. I'm awfully sorry, but your little boy has been killed. An accident-your little boy-so little-it could not be-he's only six-so little-Hallowe'en-a year ago-oh Freddy! Freddy! ...... She began to sob, quietly. The spaniel whim- pered softly, in sympathy. Hey, Paul, let's really give her the treatment! Nn-no. He remembered the sad, hurt look in her eyes. We've got to get home now. Senior Literary Competition Eifffne Landon, Prize Slory Grads? X- Awake! You lie here as if in a dream, Oblivious, while others scheme. You see not the decay, nor smell The stink of rotg and while you dwell In grandeur, in magnificence- The thieves you pay to rule your land Perform dark deeds of violence. While saying, It is the Kings command! Conniving tongues link your royal name To countless tales of horrible shame And if your subjects dare to groan, They blame it all upon the throne. Once still, the sea is calm no more - But ripples of discontent are stirred And fanned to waves you yet ignore- And still their moaning is unheard. Q Gaze at your work and dismay! Through your neglect, they must decay. Awake! Atone for your great sin, Erase the crime that dwells within Our land! Cast out the evil men That plot destruction-death! And then From this welter shall arise An empire stretching to the skies. Not buried in greed and hate and lust, Or tied by false, unequal laws, Her people shall dwell with love, and trust, And work toward a common cause. Awake, before it is too late- Cast out the schemes and jealous hate! Hope then shall be a brighter gleam- Utopia - a truer dream. Nora Anne Richards Grade XI Senior Lifeiziry Compelifioii Prize Poem Room - Mates What else comes in all sizes, All shapes and all disguises? Dispositions sweet and sour, Laughing, crying, every hour. Nothing else could be so sweet, Nothing else so much could eat. Bad moods, good moods every day Depending on both work and play. Sylvia Pierce Grade X

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lO fi g ' ' A ff ll .: 6 L I TE R RY fa ,Q-ilk FR MSA-I -I, . -1- Mary Ross Hallowe'en Apples The door opened, and a gaily- dressed horde poured out into the street. Cowboys, princes, gypsies, tramps, witches and ghosts, all carrying large paper bags or pillow casesga party of chil- dren bound on the traditional Halloween canvass for apples. They filed along the street, chattering noisily. They came to a stop beneath the first street-light, where their leader, a black-haired, blue-jeaned cow- boy suggested to them: Lets divide up and each group do one side of the street. tMurmurs of approvalj O.K. then, half of you go with Janie, and half with me. We've got until nine-thirty. VUhere'll we meet? asked Janie, a gaily- dressed gypsy. Oh-uh- at the apartment block on the Drive. Get there about quarter after nine, so we'll have time to get home. O.K. The gang straggled off, dividing roughly in half. The group headed by the cowboy started down the left-hand side of the street. Stopping at each house, they grouped around the door and ltollered lustily: I-lallowe'en Appuules! They clutched in their hands pieces of chalk or soap, to make good their threats of Trick or Treat! Their chalk and soap remained for the most part unused. Besides apples, they were given suckers, fudge by a little old lady, oranges by a young couple with a squalling baby, and one man, apolo- gizing for having nothing else to give them, poured pennies into their bags, saving his property from chalky or soapy defacement. They were not al- ways so fortunate, for at some houses their calls went unanswered. Hey, Paul, yelled a black-faced, red-haired, young negro to the leader, Let's go over a few streets to Crescent Boulevard. We oughta get something there - the people are so rich. Yeah! Lets go! Well, O.K. We've got just enough time, if we hurry. With a shout, they raced off, their panting breaths making little steamy clouds in front of them. Heres a huge place! Wow! We ought to really get something here. Brring. Brring. Mrs. Burns put her book down, sighed, and start- ed apprehensively to the door with Bobo, the cocker spaniel, padding silently along behind. She could hear the shouts of Halloween Apples as she put her hand to the door. The cowboy, Paul, stood on the door-step, grin- ning up at her expectantly. His confederates moved a little closer. Trick or treat, lady. I - I'm so sorry, she stammered softly. The outraged shouts of the children made her pause, before closing the door. Aw, gee whiz! Aw, lady, be a sport!

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I2 Witness in the Window This is a short tale about a very small animal with a long one. His name was Sim and he was a fieldmouse who lived long ago in a small but comfortable nest in the corner of a stable. He spent most of his life hunting about for food to help feed the family, and watching out for the cats who came from the nearby inn to prowl through the dark stable at night in search of dinner. When he wasn't busy with these affairs, he often climbed up the wall to the small, high window at the end of the stable and sat on the ledge looking down onto the road outside. Sim liked barley, warm straw, sleeping and long grass, but most of all he liked looking out the window, for from this exalted position he could see the heads and bodies of passers-by with their camels and mules, instead of just their feet, and he could see the tops of houses and the sky. All his life Sim wished that he could look at the sky without craning his neck. One particular day, Sim woke up feeling better than he ever had before. He leaped from his nest, turned a few somersaults and jumped about, then fairly streaked up the wall to the window sill. There he stopped for a moment gazing out onto the fresh morning world and gulping early morning air till he nearly choked, then he scrambled down the other side of the wall and set out to visit the meadows. He followed along a steep embankment beside the road, swinging along at a jaunty pace, humming little tunes to himself and watching the travellers who were already streaming by in the opposite direction towards the town. just as he was turning off into the meadow, Sim saw near the edge of the road a travel-worn man and woman with a donkey who seemed indisposed to budge. The woman on the donkey was very beautiful. Sim watched them from behind a clump of grass until the donkey finally gave in, then scampered off into the field, his heart pattering triple time with un- accountable excitement. Long after the sun had sunk out of sight and night had spread a dark blanket over the sleeping world, Sim, weary from a long day in the meadow, was moving homeward under cover of the long grasses that hid him from the hunters in the sky. His tiny feet dragged over the pebbles and his tail trailed and bumped over the ground behind him. As he neared the window of the stable he could think of nothing but his warm nest in the dark- and sleep. Up, up the long wall he climbed, till just as he was nearly at the top, he noticed that a strange bright light was shining from within. He scrambled up the rest of the way and stood on the sill, blinking. And when he looked in, a sudden huge happiness took hold of him and wound round and round inside him till he could no longer con- tain himself, and he burst into a frenzied jig on the window sill, squeaking joyously at the top of his lungs. At last he got so dizzy that he lost his balance and tumbled head over heels into the manger full of hay below him. When he picked himself up, whom should he see looking down at him but the man and the beautiful woman with the donkey, and right beside him in the manger, so close that he felt a warm breath all down his back, lay- The mouse, overcome with shyness and awe, hid his head in the hay. Ann Jennings, Grade XII. St. Valentine's Day According to history there were in early Rome, two very holy Christian martyrs, both named Val- entine. Both died a very ugly death on February 14, the date of pagan Rome's Spring Festival. Lest anyone should want to make a pilgrimage to their graves, they were buried at widely separated spots on the Appian Way with neither a shrine nor a tombstone to mark their resting places. These two Christian martyrs were quite unknown to most of the pagan Romans, who, as was their custom on February 14, wrapped their togas about them and went off singing in celebration of their nameless annual Spring Festival. The mourning Christians, however, called February 14 St. Valentines Day, and each year thereafter, while the Christians mourned, the Romans celebrated and made gay flower wreaths. In time, since the Romans accepted the name of St. Valentines Day for their festival, and the Christians continued to remember their two martyrs, the two became synonymous. When the Romans reached Britain, they brought their customs with them. On February 14, the Britons saw the Romans having a splendid party. Clt may be noted here that, as the English Febru- aries are quite different from Italian Februaries, the gala occasion may have been a rather drizzly onelj They naturally inquired as to the reason for the gaiety, and when told, they immediately adopted the idea and, as the English are wont to do, they set about quickly establishing traditions to go with St. Valentines Day, for as everyone knows, nothing in Britain is good until it is at least four hundred years old, and steeped in tradition. Young British maidens were only waiting for a chance to snatch a husband, and so they took full advantage of this light-hearted festival. QAI Capp had not yet invented Sadie Hawkins' Daylj All the lads and lasses of the village would gather on the green, and the men would place hearts, with mottoes on them, in a hat. The girls would step blushingly forward and draw one, and the man