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

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LJ! She climbed higher and higher into the clouds and it grew colder and colder. The world about her became strange and unreal. It's like diving to the bottom of the sea, s'he thought. There were now only a 'few trees-all -of them frozen into weird, tortured shapes 'by the lashing northern wind. Barren white spaces curved away into no- thingness. No comforting green or brown could be seen, all was 'icy grey and white- deathlike, she thought and shuddered. An ominous creaking came from the fog ahead of her. It was the huge iron wheel at the top of the tow and soon s'he was dismounting under its groans and clanks. She pulled down her goggles with their lemon coloured 'lenses and pushed off, choosing 'a back trail in preference to the treacher- ous mountain face. She paused for a moment at the 'bottom of the first run on a sheltered s'houlder of the mountain. The place always gave her an eerie feeling of being watched. Towering white forms encircled her and though she could feel no wind, they seemed to nod and move, They reminded her of white-robed Druids gathered for some mystic rite. The 'whoosh of snow falling from a branch startled her and like a frightened deer, she swept off down the trail. Soon she dipped into a natural bowl off the side of the main hill and was joined momentarily by other skiers. She ilet them take the lead and 'followed -after, weaving, winding, springing, gripping her steel edges into -the slope. A white shower was sprayed up as she skidded and swerved tracing her lines like unravelled wool in the powdered snow, The wind stung her cheeks, her ski slacks ripped against her legs and she was filled with warmth and exhilaration. Leav- ing the others, she came out onto the packed snow of the main hill. Her speed increased. Darting baick and forth, she dropped do-wn the mountain si e. Far below, a sinister, black stump lay as if in wait across her path. She swooped down, nearer and nearer to it. Too late, she saw the dark blur, heard the screech of steel on wood, and felt the wrenching jerk which 'threw her headlong into space. Then she was on her back 'sliding-almost falling, down, down, the bottomless slope. Trees and grey sky were spinning over her. For endless seconds she was helpless under the pull of gravity. At last it released her. She lay still and waited . . Mary-Kaye Simpkinson, Grade XII. Senior Literary Competition Prize Story Very prornising work! The prose has a pleasing rhythm in keeping with the story. There is a feeling for words and an avoidance of any unnatural or strained description. Wisps of Mist Wisps of mist, Like a ghosts, Do a slow minuet, While the frogs Chorus. A fish leaps And falls, Leaving ripples In the Stillness. Near by, the Mosquitos croon. A wee beast Rustles In the grass. Then, the Shriek of a Coyote Shatters The calm. To know A night Like this, Is to know Him. Lyn Stephen, Grade X. Senior Literary C om petition Prize Poem A pleasing eiect has been secured by an interesting p ment in free verse. A Bureau - For What? I was told that something had to be done about it. To be frank, I was hurt at first, but then I re- considered. Finally, I concluded that they did not understand, but I would have to humour them. If this seems incoherent and vague to you, I will explain. Do you see, over in the corner of our room, that sagging structure overflowing with everything imaginable? The mirror hidden with pictures and clippings? That is my worldg my home away from home, my bureau. It does -look homelike, doesnt it? Of course, it is necessary to tiptoe past so the books on the outer edges will not crash off, but my room-mates are trained. True also, that if you lean against it, the mirror swings forward, loosing a gentle hail of pictures on your head. The latter position also presents an ideal view from your waist down, however, I have broken myself of this habit. Now I come to my ultimatum: I must do some- thing a'bout my bureau. Do, I say 'to myself not a li-ttle wonderingly. The best way, I decided, was

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IO gg ,f ,' Z K, fi hull D - 2 5-fy ' M-ul ,,,,,4- ,., .1-on G L i'i'lfll ' fx 4-LQ FR ,- .ff L Winter The chair came swinging up behind her. Twist- ing, she grabbed it with one hand and steered it towards her. The next second it had hit the backs of her knees and she was swept off her feet. Next time I'll try standing back further , she thought as she felt the bruises behind her knees, She passed over the heads of other skiers wafting in line and drew a smile, and a cjuick nod or a HH from those she knew. The chair rose to meet the first tower and with two jerks it passed over the wheels. Now she was alone. Music floated up to her from the loudspeaker in the lodge. The boy in the chair ahead swung his skis in time to the gay, lilting tune and the motion travelled down the cable to her. Her chair rose and fell gently in response. Below her and swinging up to her left was the practice jump hill. lt seemed to end abruptly at a ledge four feet high. Far below this, two wide tracks appeared from nowhere. She remembered the day when only one track had been made. It was at an important ski meet and the jumping always attracted a large Sunday afternoon crowd. As a competitor soared off into space, one of his skis came off. lnstinctively he landed on his one re- maining ski to break his fall, but the runaway ski hurtled down like a meteor upon the crowd and the screams of an injured child were heard before it finally came to rest. The music on the loudspeaker stopped. She seemed to Hoat in a silence broken only by the whirr of wheels on the approaching tower and the bump-bump as she passed over them. She en- tered an avenue of whiteness. Everything around her had succumbed to winter. The Cedars had bowed under the weight of snows until they looked like a crowd of old wo-men silently eyeing her as she passed. Here and there, the 'stark ruin of a tamarack rose among them. The helter-Skelter tracks of a rabbit were woven around the snowy forms below her. A bright chocolate 'bar wrap- ping, strangely incongruous, caught her eye. Snow- Hakes softly touched her face and 'she bent her head to study their minute beauty outlined on her red jacket. ' The trees parted and the hill came into view. Youth held possession of it and gay whoops, laughter and yodels echoed their joie de Vivre. Wfith lightning swiftness and effortless grace, they slalomed down its face, or amid cries of track!i' a daredevil would hurtle down the schus galley at sixty-miles-an-hour. As she passed into the trees again she thought how fortunate she was to be one of these vigorous, young people. The greatest sport of all, she sighed contentedly. The cable climbed more steeply. In a moment she would enter the clouds, She took one last look at what lay behind her. Far off was the Columbia River winding into the United States. Six miles down, the city in which she lived was slowly becoming obscure. On clear, brilliant days, range upon mountain range, their myriads of splen- did peaks dazzling the eyes, overcame one with their tremendous stillness.

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l2 to eliminate everything on the bureau 'top which I did not need. For several minutes I put forth a great industrious effort, Very quickly fand with great perception, I thoughtj I decided that this was not eliminating anything. At 'chat moment, the most wonderful idea oc- curred to me. Beside my bed was a sm-all table. On the bottom shelf I neatly stacked my books. Then fwith great manipulation, I thoughtj I dexterously arranged the bottles and jars -in a very small space. In succession I piled photo- graphs, paper cups, cutlery, hair pins, pencils, 'lip- stic , stamps, Qbreathe Iherej several -small boxes, scissors, javex, soap, powder, nail polish, and one cuff link on to the suffering shelf . W'ha't now con- fronted 'my eyes for anyone who enteredj was the ideal bureau top, indeed a stunning effect and carefully placed in parallel formation, a brush and comb. Certainly my goal was reached I thought, as I draped myself wearily over my -bed. A whole morn- ing to achieve that most admirable accomplish- ment! I jumped to -my feet as I -heard footsteps sto at our door. As I stood at the end of my bed? I tried to don that air of nonchalance, resent- ing my self-conscious 'blush of pride and achieve- ment. A head peered around the door and imme- diately pointed at the table. My, wha't an untidy room, Brenda, you really must do something about the bottom shelf of that table. -These are the times that try a man's soul.- B. Dougall, Grade X. 1s The River The river, Alone, rushing on into the night, Like quicksilver, A torrentg a flight Of grey birds headed homewards In startled fright. The river, Scarlet, sweeping into the rising sun. Not a quiver, Sound? Only one Of low peaceful murmur, After the run. Christine Waltkins. Grade XI. It is good for young people to explore the infinite possibilities of rhyme. In this poem rhyme has been carefully handled and there is also a true feeling for rhythm. Visitors Pioneers? Yes, my dears, my grandmother went on, suppose you would call us one of the first families in this part of the country. What a change has taken place since 'the birth of this prov- ince! Now, what are rippling fields of wheat were nothing but bald 'prairies and forbidding forests. I can remember how odd it seemed no't living in our old 'house -and not having neighbours dropping in to borrow la little sugar, or a spot of tea. I never realized what loneliness mother and 'father must have felt away from all of their friends in Scotland. To me, a seven year old, this new land, Canada, was a place where 'I 'could find new adven- tures and live the ones about which I rhad read. I shall never forget one particular day, We had been over from Scotland jus't two months. It was in the middle of August, the weather had 'been warm and dry, and mother and father had decided to go to the 'trading pos't to buy the monthly supply of food. There were no fancy cars in those days, and travel by Red River Ox Cart was pretty slow and rough. The trip was seven long miles so mother and father were ready to leave about seven o'clock. Before 'kissing us al'l good-'bye mother 'told us that we were to stay together an-d n-ot to go 'far from the house. Bar- bara, my oldest sister, assured 'her that she would take care of us and would see that we behaved ourselves. After watching the cart disappear into the woods we entered the house and each turned to her daily chores. By twelve-thirty we had finished all the odd jobs that Barbara -could find for us to do in the house. Father had been busy during the warm weather chopping wood and getting our winter's supply of fuel ready. Although we had very little space cleared around 'the house, mother always liked to keep it as neat and 'tidy as possible. W'h'ile Barbara finished the mending, Ann, Won- netta and I were appointed to go outside and clean up the yard. I 'took a basket and ran to my favour- ite place+the wood pile. There I 'busied myself picking up all the little chips t-hat I knew Mommie would love for starting the 'morn-ing fires, Now, this wood pile was behind the house, just at the edge of the woods. I was quite enjoying myself making my way around the mound and picking up every little 'twig and piece of bark when I 'hap- pened to look up and saw what I thought was an animal, perched in the branch of a tree. As I'have said, we had been in Canada for only two months, and anything out of the ordinary did not frighten or startle me. I moved toward that mu'lti-coloured creature and was about to call it when Wonetta shouted. 'Lizzy, will you come and 'help -me carry in Daddy's tool b0x?'