Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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woman was sponging his face with cold water, and there were a few people looking on anxiously. 'iIt's all rightf' smiled the woman with the cloth. You'll be all right. Where-what . . . ? began Clarence. Now you just be quiet and lie still, ' interrupted the woman. Then Clarence remembered. Where is It? he asked, sitting up. Now lie down, insisted the woman. But where is It? he demanded. The Thing ? Where is what thing? The demon. The dwarf. The thing that was chasing me. It must have knocked me out. It wanted to kill me. Be careful, be calm, she assured. We won't let anything get you. just a moment, interrupted one of the men. 'You ran into a pillar, son, he said kindly, and we carried you outside unconscious. But you were running about that building like one possessed. He indicated the cathedral with a wave of his hand. Why were you in there? Clarence explained. I fell asleep in a chaped and got locked in. Then the dwarf that Mr. Norfolk, the organist, saw, began to follow me. When I ran, it ran after me. I was running toward the door when it opened. You say I ran into a pillar. That's all I remember. The man was silent a moment, while the woman tried to make Clarence Iie down and the rest talked in low tones. XVhat did this thing look like? asked the man. It was just like Mr. Norfolk's description. It had a long, triangular face with a short beard. It had horns, too. How tall was it? Oh, quite short. It was the dwarf, I tell you. The group was silent for a moment. Suddenly from the open door of the cathedral there came a noise that created general consternation. It was the bleat of a goat. A second later a goat emerged from the door and came toward the little group. The man suddenly turned to Clarence. Was the dwarf the height of this goat? he asked. Clarence hesitated. I think it was a little shorter. Are you sure. Not very. I think I understand, said the man. This animal is Little Minotaur, the Bishop's pet goat. Somehow it can wander from the cloister garden, where it is usually kept, to the main part of the cathedral. You saw it in the dark and mistook it for the fabled dwarf. Mr. Norfolk probably did the same. Are you sure that this is Little Minotaur? asked Clarence. I ought to be. You see, he continued, I'm a caretaker here. That is why I got in the cathedral so soon when I heard your cries. Then, asked Clarence, all this excitement is due to a superstition and a pet goat? Thats about right, said the caretaker. Clarence lay back on the grass and looked up at the silent, distant stars. The REFLECTOR - 13

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Clarence's grandfather had once told him about the Bishop. It seems that this Bishop had had a friend, a dwarf. This dwarf was rumored to be a demon. for after the Bishop was murdered, it was never seen again--at least not in the flesh. Many people had claimed to have seen its spirit since its disappearance back in the middle of the Fifteenth century. The latest person had been the present organist, and his story had set the town agog. His account ran that one night he had had to return to the cathedral to get some music. It was then that he had seen the dwarf. It was, he claimed, looking flxedly at him from the altar. The organist had described it as having a triangular, bearded face and horns projecting from the forehead. Terrified, he had fled at the sight, leaving his precious music behind. The next morning the crucifix had been found lying on the floor. Clarence shuddered. Suppose he should encounter it? He stopped and listened. All was silent, save for the faint sound of traflic from the street. He proceeded falteringly. Presently a cold sweat began to form on his skin. His scalp tightened, and he walked mechanically. O, God! Had he heard footsteps? He felt that he was being stared at. Baleful green eyes were somewhere in the dark- ness behind him. The infamous sixth sensei' was doing its insidious work. He strove to put aside his fears. It was all nonsensical superstition! He listened intently. There was not a sound, save,-yes! From the darkness behind came the soft pat of very deliberate footsteps. Dignity and reason fled. Superstitious terror, the instinctive horror of the nameless, wreaked havoc on his composure. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. He was paralyzed with fear. It was following him. It was getting closer. Two green eyes that were remarkably close together peered out of the shadows. Then, out of the darkness into the faint rays of cold light from the window, emerged a head and a pair of shoulders. O, God! It was the-the DWARF! He gasped, and then his horrified shriek tore at the silence of the night. Go away! Go away! he screamed. Leave me alone! Don't touch me! i He shrieked at the top of his lungs again and again, and then suddenly turned and fled down the dark aisle toward the doors at the end of the nave. The Thing came bounding after him with a weird, unearthly rhythm, never passing, always keeping in the darkness behind. O, God, he whispered in despair. Terror forced him to run faster and faster, faster than he knew how. Suddenly there was a terrible rattle at a door across the nave. It opened, and a man with a lantern stood silhouetted in the light from the street. Clarence headed for him, screaming with horror. The Thing! The Thing! It's following me. O, help! He dodged among the columns, blinded with fear. Suddenly a dark mass loomed up in front of him. He couldn't avoid it. He was going too fast. Too late. He collided with it. Clarence groaned and sank unconscious to the floor. When he regained consciousness, he was lying on the grass. A portly

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Defeat By H al Reid T WAS one of those sparkling, early, September days, the trees were still green and shafts of pale yellow sunlight angled through their branches to cast myriad purple-gray shadows on the ground. It seemed somehow like the beginning of a new year instead of the beginning of the end of the old. At least that's how it seemed to Little johnny johnson. His real name was Hungerford P. johnson, jr., but Johnny was a lot easier. At any rate, johnny had been training religiously for three months, and his rather undersized body was as hard as taught steel cable. Football practice had begun and all was well except that johnny's 134 pounds of brawn and muscle somehow had failed to make him the football player he so badly wanted to be. Still, this was another season, with another chance to knock Old Man Jinx down to his size and step on him. Yes, there had been other seasons for johnny, two, in fact, and he had held down the bench from beginning to end. johnny was a senior now, but he could still remember the first time he had gone out for the team when he was a Freshman. He remembered that first day with its conditioning exercises that started out so innocently, and Hnally stabbed his soft muscles through with red hot pokes. He remembered his first gruelling week, and then, his Waterloo-blocking practice. The recruits had divided up in threes, two blockers and a defense man. It was all very simple: one took his stance opposite the two blockers, and when the assistant coach shouted, Hip! , the two men hit you shoulder to shoulder and drove with their legs, while all you had to do was get between them and crash through. Johnny was on defense. It looked simple enough. He had seen practice sessions like this ever since he had been able to walk to a football field, for johnny, you see, loved the game. So he tried to imitate the stance he had seen his heroes use. He set himself and waited- Hip! The next thing he knew he was flat on his back about three yards from where he had started. He tried it again. And again he tried until his body was blotched in spots with ugly blue-black markings and the pains in his shoulders wouldn't let him lift his arms. Not once did he get between them and crash through. He had walked home that night with the hot tears rolling slowly down his face, and the next day he had been cut from the squad. Yes, he remembered all that, and he thought, too, of how he had exercised and run and studied, and practiced, and of how he had fought his The REFLE-cron - - - I- :1 T 14