Boody Junior High School - Beacon Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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the shadow do the same. Playful feIlow, I thought, but at that mo- ment playing tag with a ghost was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Cold shivers ran up and down my spine as my ghostly com- panion continued to menace my path. I wondered what I ought to do. There was no other way home, and if I returned to my neighbor's house I would be laughed at. Had we not that very evening decided there were no such things as ghosts? While I was thus contemplating, the clouds rolled back and the welcome moon appeared. I took a swift look around preparing to make a run for it, when glancing upward I discovered dangling from the branches, a large white kite, its tails swaying in the breeze, its cross beams protruding at right angles from the body, the whole casting a grotesque shadow before me. I laughed in relief, but I have never been able to admit to my friends that I had been frightened by a kite. Charlotte Kantrowitz, RDI I THE BLUE-RIDGE MOUNTAINS OF VIRGINIA The Blue-Ridge Parkway extends from Virginia through North Caro- lina and into Tennessee. As we ride along, we notice range after range of mountains, waterfalls and tumbling mountain streams, sapphire lakes and forests untouched by human hands. The earthly smell min- gles with the cool, delicious mountain air and a delightful aroma aris- es, healthy and refreshing. Nature's wonders like Lover's Leap, Na- tural Bridge and Chimney Rock stand towering above all. At sunset- the sun like a lantern in the sky shines upon bottomless pools and blue meets rust. We drive away leaving the mountains in body, but our hearts always remain with flowering dogwood in the springtime, and mountain lakes by moonlight. Marilyn Plafker, RC2 C A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE Milly, how did you acquire this log of petrified wood? my friend, Sue, asked while looking over my collection. Oh, there is a very interesting story behind that, I replied. Let me hear it, she begged. All right. And I commenced my tale. We were touring the United States in the summer of I937, you know, and at this time we were in the Black Hills viewing the Mt. Rush- more Monument. On the way out, we had to go up a steep hill. The car in front of us stalled and my father's car stalled also trying to ll mm I7

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Yes, but when will you be back? asked Frederick, who was al- ready munching on cookies. Tomorrow,of course, she answered. But this is queer. Why should you miss me. You've had a lovely substitute teacher. Yes, lovely, but l didn't like her, said Carla bluntly. You didn't? No, I like you a thousand times better, and we can't stay without you, not even for one day. I am so glad l am a success with children, said Miss Rogers, smil- ing sweetly. l'll try not to be absent any more when l know l am ap- preciated so. Three cheers for Miss Rogers, said Frederick, three cheers for the nicest teacher in the whole world. And so this story ends with three gigantic cheers for Miss Rogers. Carmelo Chirico, RBl O THE GHOST lt was almost midnight. l was walking down a lonely rural road after spending an evening at a neighbor's house, an evening in which we had told ghost stories. With utter disregard for my journey home through the dark, l read aloud 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. The young people had gaily derided the existence of ghosts, hobgoblins and the like. l sauntered along, smiling as l recalled the pranks and sallies of the evening. l could hear the screeching of owls in the trees and the occasional scurrying about of small creatures aroused by the sound of my footsteps. The moon, which before had shone so brightly, was now hidden by darkening clouds, but there was enough light to enable me to discern my surroundings. Suddenly, I remembered that l was approaching the giant old cot- ton tree, which for years the old folks in the vicinity had insisted was a rendezvous for ghosts, although no one had ever seen any. ln the midst of these reflections, the village clock in the distance struck mid- night. Nervously l hurried along, as l thought l saw something white move along the branches of a tree. Presently, l became aware of a huge shadow that moved directly across my path. Back and forth it swayed. l could plainly see the outline of a body with outstretched arms and unnaturally long legs. But horror of horrors! there was no head! Ghosts never had heads. l stopped in my tracks, the shadow immediately became motionless. l moved forward again, only to have l6

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keep in one place. The car rolled back into a ditch and almost turned over. A friendly passerby attempted to tow the car out of the ditch. Meanwhile, we got out and walked about in the woods nearby where l stumbled on this log. So now you have the story, Sue. But did you get the car out, and was it damaged? she asked. No, everything turned out all right and we continued on our way. Mildred Trachtenberg, RCl O OLD WOMAN A frail figure could be seen walking down the aisle of the big church every day. She was an old woman. Like most old ladies, she was dressed in a gown trimmed with flimsy laces. The lines in her face showed the troubled years she had smiled through. Her slow steps were ones of painful labor. This was because of her age. She was worn and weatherbeaten. She seated herself in one of the front rows. The church was almost empty nowg except for an old woman's treasured memories. It was quiet in here. One had no sense of time. On the outside there was a world of movement and of experience. She had gone through all that. But there had always been a way out of all her troubles. Time was the remedy. Now she could look back and say, l started from the beginning of the road of life stretched so dimly before meg and have crossed the corners of danger and met people who were friends. l have reached the end of the long, weary road and I can now look back with pride on the distance, traveled without a fal- ter in steps. The loud rush of notes from the organ broke her thread of thoughts. The choir had begun their practice. She must leave now. Slowly she wended her way out. They found her dead at the corner of the church. She had been the victim of a hit-and-run driver. An old woman had crossed her last corner of danger. Rose Palmieri, SBZ O MY PET My pet is a sweet little thing. lt is a canary which we named Bobby. He is a small singing bird with bright yellow and green plum- age. Also he is a native of the Canary Islands where most canaries are found. I first received this little pet of mine when he was about one year of age. My father bought him from a man who had a great number .. .. .. I I. ..I .. I.. I.. . I .. ...I.. .I I..II I..I .. II III I. II II I III I. I I II. I.II II II I. I III.I .. I I ... IIII. I II .. .. II.. I..II.III.I.I..I ..II..II..II..II..III. I..I ..I.. I..I .. I.. I. II..II.. I. L