Bourne High School - Canal Currents Yearbook (Bourne, MA)

Page 24 text:

CANAL CURRENTS, BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL result of an accident in the Civil War. That is one reason why I live out here by myself. I am tired of scaring everyone I meet.” I felt a bit reassured by this direct speech and stepped through the open doorway. “I became lost to-day while hunting,” I explained, “and when I discovered this place of yours I stopped to see if per- haps I could find food and rest for the night. I’m willing to pay for it.” I exhibited a roll of bills, but his eyes were on me rather than on the bills. “To be sure, to be sure,” he murmured, “you may have food and-er-rest here if you wish. I am not interested in the money, though. I shall-er-entertain you free of charge.” He chuckled horribly, and ushered me into the room from which I had seen the light outside. It appeared to be a sort of general living room and kitchen with a big stove on one side of the room, a table in the center, a lounge on the further side of the room and a few upholstered chairs. “Take a seat and rest while I cook you a nice juicy steak with some fried spuds, and coffee,” said he, bustling about on the other side of the dim room. I leaned my deer rifle in a cor- ner and sank into one of the easy chairs to rest while the tantalizing odor of cooking steak filled the room. I must have dozed off, for, in no time it seemed, the old fellow roused me by shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Your steak is ready,” said he. “Eat now.” The food was delicious, and when I had cleared up the last juicy morsel he beckoned and said, “Come, now. I’ll take you to your room.” His natural behavior and the good food had won my confi- dence in him, I left my rifle and hunting knife in the room which we had just left, and followed him down the dark hallway. I could see him dimly ahead of me and could hear him shuffling along the stone floor with that peculiar gait of his. He stopped before a flight of stone stairs go- ing up into the blackness above and said, “Wait here while I find a light.” He shuffled off in the darkness and left me standing there. The shuffling stopped suddenly and I heard him chuckle very hide- ously. “Ah! Here we are,” he rasped. I heard a click from his direc- tion as though he had thrown a switch. There came a rumbling sound, the floor beneath me gave way, and I was sent skimming downward through space! I crashed to the stone floor below and lay on my back a few min- utes gathering my wits. Pres- ently I was aware of a glow of light from the aperture through which I had fallen, and then the oldish man thrust his head over the edge and cackled in his hideous fashion, “Pleasant, pleasant dreams. I will give you a companion to play with in a few minutes.” The hole above my head slow- ly closed leaving me in the gloom of my dungeon-like room. I got to my feet and walked forward till I touched the stone wall. Then I commenced to fol- low it, feeling with my hands as I went. Halfway around the cir- Page Twenty -Two

Page 23 text:

CANAL CURRENTS, BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL The House Of Horror It all started one mid-summer afternoon while I was on a deer hunt in the Everglades. I had in some way become separated from the party which I was with and after stumbling in miles of morass and inpenetrable jungle from mid-afternoon until dusk had begun to settle down on the swamplands, I suddenly came upon an old castle-like house on a patch of higher ground which thrust itself above the surround- ing swamp lands. As I ap- proached the higher land I noted a depressing silence which made the noise of my footsteps in the mucky swamp lands sound like a herd of cattle crossing a creek. I finally climbed out upon the dry land and stopped to listen. The silence was deafening, un- real. Not a night-bird twittered nor a cricket chirped nor (as I was suddenly aware) were there any noises from the teeming swamp where I had beforehand been annoyed by the raucous noises of all types of swamp life. As I looked up at the house with its moss and ivy-covered walls of gray stone, its dark, gaping win- dows and the huge, heavily- studded oaked door, which I could discern dimly through the gathering gloom, I had a linger- ing premonition of evil and for some unaccountable reason, the dread of something horrible within. As I stood doubtful as to what to do, I noticed a dim light flick- ering through a small window at one side of the massive door. “There must be someone there,” I said to myself, “who would perhaps give a weary traveler some food and rest.” So thinking, I made my way cautiously up to the door, my deer rifle gripped tightly in my hands. As I approached the great oaken door, I saw an iron knock- er bolted to it. This I raised and let fall. The great crash it made was magnifled highly by the de- pressing silence around me and I started foolishly when it fell, my knees then reached for the huge knocker again. Before my hand reached the knocker the door opened silently on its huge hinges and I was confronted by an elderly man who stood star- ing at me through thick-lensed glasses. He was a man of small sta- ture but of amazing breadth in comparison with his height. His shoulders were broad and pow- erful-looking, and his arms were thick with muscles which rip- pled under his khaki shirt. His back, I saw when he turned, was humped slightly and he walked with an odd, shuffling gait. His face was angular and his nose hooked. His eyes were a cold piercing blue as he looked through his thick-lensed glasses at me. At last he grinned crookedly, disclosing one tooth in the cen- ter of his mouth, and said in a harsh voice, “Come in, please, won’t you?” I hesitated as a breath of damp musty air came from the open doorway. He looked at me sharply. “Don’t let my looks and voice scare you,” he said, grinning hideously again. “They are the Page Twenty-One

Page 25 text:

CANAL CURRENTS, BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL cular enclosure I stumbled over a pile of hard objects which rolled and clicked and rattled under my feet. I reached down and picked up a large round ob- ject, very smooth and with two perfectly round holes in it. I dropped it quickly and fled across the room, crouching against the far wall. A draft of air hit my head. Where there is air, I thought, there must be a opening. Sure enough, a lit- tle above my head was a win- dow with rusty bars set in it. I reached up and grasped one of the ancient bars. It weakened as I pulled on it and my hopes rose a few notches. Suddenly from the ceiling of the cell came the harsh chuckle of the old man and a dark, winged object of considerable size dropped upon me, and I caught a strange musky odor as it flapped about my cell. Even in the darkness I could tell what it was. I gasped in horror and cruched low to avoid the filthy thing. The thought of the auto- matic pistol which I always car- ry in my hip pocket came to me suddenly. I groped wildly for it, and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt it, cold and hard, in my grip. The horrid creature in my cell flapped toward me and I in panic, emptied the contents of my pistol into the filthy bird. It staggered at my first shot, and as the rest tore through it, it collapsed and fell heavily to the floor. I wiped the perspiration from my brow and pocketed the useless gun. I was able, after a fashion, to wrench the old cor- roded bars from the window and haul myself through. I found myself in another cir- cular room but this one had an opening in the high ceiling and iron rungs set in the stone wall leading up to it. I climbed rap- idly up the rungs and as I reached the top and looked over, I came face to face with my host who screamed and kicked me in the face? I felt myself falling back- wards through space, falling — falling — there came a ringing as of many bells, in my ears. I hit the floor with a terrific smash! The ringing grew loud- er. Funny — I felt no pain from the long fall. I tried to move but I couldn’t. It felt as though someone was holding my arms close to my sides. The ringing noise stopped suddenly. I opened my eyes. The sunlight was streaming in my bedroom window and I was lying on the floor with my bed clothes wound tightly around me! Suddenly there was the loud ringing noise again, I untangled myself from the bed clothes, picked up the telephone on my bedroom table, and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” “Hi, Jim,” came the answer over the wire, “where are you, anyway? Aren’t you going deer hunting with us this afternoon?” “No!” I shouted. “I’m sick.” I slammed down the receiver and turned toward my bed. My eyes fell upon a copy of a book entitled “Medieval Horrors”. I threw the book out of the win- dow, dove back into bed, and pulled the covers tightly over my head. Fred Hebditch, ’39. Page Twenty-Three