Churchill High School - Victory Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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The Small Boy by SUSAN NOSWORTHY The small boy sits by himself — all alone, He has no friends; he has no home; He goes to school when he can — where he can, For there’s no one who’ll lend him a helping hand. He has no friends with whom to work or play; He sits by himself — day after day; He smiles at the fella ' s as they pass him on the walk, But he finds they do not answer — with him they will not talk. He lives in a world that is bleak and hostile; No one wants to listen; no one cares to smile; For the small boy is different — he ' s black instead of white, And now he’s learned his lesson — survival means to fight. 4 Frank Friesen Murder in the Mountains The rain whipped down on the windshield of the Chevy , as it sped recklessly down the narrow moun¬ tain road. The woman behind the wheel was hysterical with fright as she raced down the twisting road. Suddenly there was no response to the steering wheel, and the car, out of control, flew off the edge of the cliff into the gorge below. All rhat was left was flaming wreckage. The silence of the next morning was shattered by the sound bf a motorbike coming up the road. The girl on the bike was Sandra Cartwright, daughter of the chemical magnate, J. J. Cartwright. She had come to investigate the reason for her mother ' s absence after a long awaited meeting between her mother and her father. She had tried to reconcile their differences since their legal separa¬ tion two years before. Due to the court ' s decision to give custody of the child to the mother, her father held an undying hatred for his former wife, and tve let this be known. Had her father finally got his revenge against her mother? This was the question that crossed Sandra ' s mind as she approached her destination. Sandra arrived at her father ' s mountain mansion about five o ' clock in the afternoon, and was cordially greeted by her father. They ate supper together and then chatted for a while like two friends who had not seen each other for a long time. Finally Sandra brought the dis¬ cussion around to her mother. Father, demanded Sandra, where is mother? I know she came up here last night, but for what reason I know not. I do know, however, that you sent her a note saying that you wished to see her immediately. What have I done, you say, ber father calmly re¬ plied, but with a sneer on his lips, “I have done nothing. I sent her no note, and I certainly did not want to see her. But, it is getting late and you must be tired. We will discuss this again in the morning. The butler will show you to your room.” The butler led Sandra through the dark upstairs pas¬ sages to her room. Just as she entered the room, he spoke. If you hear any sounds during the night, do not be alarmed.” Finding some bedclothes in the closet, Sandra was soon asleep. Suddenly, the air shook with the piercing sound of a human, screaming in agony. This was fol¬ lowed by the sound of a scuffle. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Silence! Nerve-shattering, never-ending silence reigned supremely over the night. Sandra strained her ears for any sound of the aftermath, as she peered blindly into the darkness. She groped for a lightswitch, but could find none. Gathering courage, she heft her room and ventured downstairs. Slowly, she made her way down the hall towards her father ' s den. Suddenly the wall beside ber opened and her father ' s mangled body fell to the floor. She started towards it, but stopped when she saw a large hunched figure behind him. It tried to grab her, but she avoided its lunge. She fled into the den and locked the door. The creature soon forced the door open, and came into the room grinning as though it had just captured its prey. Everything it touched as it made its way towards Sandra, reeked of its vile odour. In panic, Sandra broke the pane of glass in the window with her hand and climbed through the broken■ glass. Blood-stained, she ran towards her motorbike. Sbe finally started it after many fruitless attempts. By that time, the creature appeared outside. Sandra started moving away, but it blocked her path. Too shocked to turn the wheel, Sandra continued on her collision course. The animal was momentarily stunned by the impact and did not pursue. Unaware of this, how¬ ever, Sandra sped down the trail in the dead of night. There was no moon and all was black. The wheel of the motorbike hit a large rock and Sandra was thrown over the abyss. The transquillity of the next morning was only shattered by a lone car driving up to the house. The police had come to investigate the disappearance of a mother and a daughter. No one greeted them. They found the broken glass, the blood, and the broken door. The police were baffled. Everyone was baffled, and the case, unsolved, was put into the files. PAGE 98

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ART DEPARTMENT JOE GRANDE 11-4 PAGE 100