Buxton School - Yearbook (Williamstown, MA)

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floor with a gurgle. I bent over to make sure it was dead, and only then did I realize who it was ff- for, in the last moments of life, the voice of my uncle hissed something into my ear which caused my flesh to crawl. I fled blindly, gropingly from the room, even from the house itself. My next step was to find lodging elsewhere. I managed to secure a room in a small house on the outskirts of a town a great distance from the hideous mansion. Several weeks have passed since I have been living here. As I sit in my room, writing this confession ofthe killing of my uncle, a strange feeling has possessed me that perhaps I will not live much longer. It may be the dark, sinister storm which is roaring outside, or it may be the weightiness of my conscience and the realization ofthe enormity of my deed. Or it may be because ofthe horror of the last words of my uncle. But I must write this document for whoever may find it. Even now, as I am finishing this, I hear mutiled sounds out- side the French doors of my room - scraping, scuftling, groaning, half-animal sounds .... -- ilffafge Jlurpfzy .- f Nl l L'7r- 1'4 ,,:I'3:I, .4 -- ' 1,93 .K- 31

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LONELINESS AIN fell And I was alone. Gray mist crept like the silent panther, Enveloping the whole of earth. The Lotus blossom, bent with droplets, wet, Berefit of dirt and wholly clean, Met at sky's edge the swallow, Dipping its soaring wings to the earth, While rain fell And I was alone. f Ruflz Sherwin SOMNAMBULISM E had been here several times before, and a good many places like it many times. Now he was in one of his meditative moods. He felt himself a stranger even with his friends. The place was especially crowded. At the table in the Club Columbo, with all the familiar noises of a night club, he felt as if by himself in his private study, sitting by the fire, dreaming. He was with a group of his business friends, all out on a stag party. It was one of their usual celebrations. All were talking about business, politics, and even how they were getting along with their private secretaries. She has the smoothest ivory shoulders I've ever seen, he heard one of his friends say, and across the packed room he saw just that. The woman he saw had no connection with the one his friend was mentioning as far as he knew, but he got up and started to walk toward her, staring at her striking face. When he started to trip over chairs, he realized what he was doing. The woman hadn't noticed him and probably never would, he thought, nor had anybody else. He felt disappointed as he got back to his table. His friends jested about his day-dreaming - all he could do was to grin a silly grin and sneak glances toward the ivory-shouldered woman. Why don't I get up? he kept saying to himself, cursing himself for his hesitation. The band was just starting to blare when he got up again. He saw the woman reach around for her coat. She can't leave, he said to himself, despairing. He groped through the packed room. This was the height of the crowd. He was very close now, asking himself what he was doing. She had noticed him. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was looking up at him with beautiful questioning eyes. What a soft expression, he thought. The blood was pounding in his head. He hesitated, - and saw her escort put on her coat. He was so close he could touch the fur. They got up and walked out. - J im B. Power 28

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