Eldorado High School - El Aguila Yearbook (Albuquerque, NM)

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Night Games Suspended in the cold remote heavens, the stars overhead glittered as they regarded us. We huddled in a large circle-lithe, impatient young bodies jostling each other for space, ex- cited voices ringing through the empty street. A solitary street lamp cast its yellow circle of light on the bent heads of tangled hair. One potato. two potato, three potato, feur, a thirteen-year-old voice decided my fate in a singsong chant. I glanced at the voice: the seniority of seven years was an awesome au- thority in a child's world. Eyes closed in con- centration, I held my breath and hoped desper- ately for the words, You're out! One by one the lucky ones were counted out and they ducked from the circle to congregate in small groups, whispering and giggling in anticipa- tion. At each departure my heart skipped a beat and my fists clenched tighter. Finally the remaining fists were narrowed down to two. I stared with glassy eyes as the definitive You're out was pronounced and the leader passed sentence on me. You're lt. The groups laughed derisively. dispering in all directions. Fragments of speech drifted to my ears, She always gets picked, . . . not really old enough to play , just Danny's tagalong little sis- ter . I walked slowly over to the street lamp, hid my eyes, and began to count in an un- steady voice, One, two, three As the street emptied I continued to count in whis- pers, stretching each number as far as I dared. 48, 49, 50 . I clung to the dark safe haven of my tightly closed eyes for a moment, turned, and in a quavering voice yelled the traditional Apple, peaches, pumpkin pie: who's not ready, holler aye. An encroaching silence greeted me on all sides. I pivoted, surveying the murky street. Then I ventured hesitantly out of the warm security of the street lamp's circle of light. I crept up the street, as if into a certain ambush, casting fearful glances left and right, my tennis Shoes slapping softly on the smooth sidewalk. A twig snapped to my right. I wheeled, my heart in my throat-above me a menacing face leered out of the blank sky. Stifling a scream, I turned to my left. They were approaching me, their outlines faint and wavery in the night. In- sidiously soft voices surrounded me, threat- ened me, murmuring words that I couldn't hear, didn't want to hear. My heart pounded through my worn tee-shirt as my eyes gazed feverishly at the advancing spectral mob. Soon their malicious staring eyes founds mine. Sud- denly, control of my tensely rigid body re- turned, and I raced frantically toward the safety of the light. Wraith-like hands snatched and clawed at my clothes, tentacles grasping to halt my flight. I stumbled and they closed in on me, their whispers low and menacing in my ears, their icy arms reaching for an encompass- ing embrace. Regaining my footing, I leapt away from them and sprinted for the street lamp. Finally I reached the circle of light and hurled myself. panting and heaving, into its engulfing warmth. The other kids stood waiting for me, con- tempt written on their faces. Voices chimed in, Come on, scaredy-cat, everyone's here al- ready. You've lost again. Their mocking voices echoed in my throbbing head. I didn't even have a good hiding place: it's easy to win when she's It. Look at her, she's probably afraid to sleep without a nightlight, too. Yeah. Well, chicken, are you going to play or are you afraid? Silently. I approached them as they made a circle. I gritted my chattering teeth, folded my trembling hands into two fists, and thrust them in front of me. The stars hung in the enveloping night, spar- kling benevolently above the street. One po- tato, two potato, three potato, four, the leader's voice chanted, while I prayed for the magical words, You're out. Debbie Hutchins First Place Story the coming The squirrels told of its coming nervously scurrying back and forth to quietly hide bits of food. The birds told of its coming gathering in the sky like a grey arrow speeding south. The brook told of its coming silencing its gentle murmur with a frozen sheet of ice. The sun told of its coming dimming down its radiant warmth its lights obscured by hazy clouds. Then an almost tangible silence The trees told of its coming told that it had come. releasing bits of golden jewels to pile on the ground. Debbie Bryant The wind told of its coming rattling through barren branches and teasing tufts of thick downy fur. 323

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Dur National Pastime st bill in tht it did you txti sr hi jog to ust you h ing up i im it I 1 N? tn ht m ikzs tht mitch our im thiou ' st ll ox somtor ib his h in 0 tl st ii Jill vn 1 s U imc is t umb this spoit I ii X dont l quit? It m ikts nc sz n kt oy' IIuI1 hor I iis 'iseb'ill f'III'l. is . : t w isis: 'xxsrcoi .third.ho 1. ' rstands are : rs ' ' 2 alo x .' tI'.'S 'IC i Li ISI 'Y I 4 il It. We re nine runs down. We hayen't a chance. , , .Hex Ba. 2 I . baseball. ' 2 sky. I A L I WI If ' vi' fly si 'gh? jf i 4 As I ' 1 f' . j 4 there fl Q5 Being suspended in the air f':.' ,V,' A A N! Ihzt nt oi there is inde' you LE Wh: 2 1 if 2 zz : . 'tez is ' gh. if ' 2 Pleas! t p. ' .' 2 ie grz I ds 'i Y I can hear the rumbling in ie .' t ids. The lt starts dex . ol no! Please wait! This ga 2 I . .' ' I z te! T Why ' ' . 2 !.' I 32 se! K lley loo . It landed past the fence! Oh j '. n ah! I hit a ne 'unl H Box tl bt t s ' fun' I touch ill tht b isis first I id mt I'ht tht 1 ring lol mt nt' As I los tl pl itt it tht st oicbo ird I gl nrt I Mike Nixon , f X,,,,,- Z Treasure Hunter Lisa Petterson According to the map. the trea- sure was buried three steps north of the rock. The rock was easy enough to find. for it was the only protuber- ance on the beach along the entire length of the shore. Since the sun was dropping toward the western horizon. it was easy to see that north was straight ahead. However. the treasure hunter wanted to be abso- lutely positive of his direction. so. from his hip pocket. he slowly drew forth his compass. Patiently. he waited until the needle came to a complete stop. According to the compass. north was straight ahead. Then. carefully and precisely. the treasure hunter counted off three paces north, placing one foot ex- actly in front of the other. One, two, three-this had to be the spot. Now. all he had to do was to dig until he hit something hard. and then he could unearth the treasure. Once again. he glanced quickly at the map. Then. with his big toe. he marked a big X in the sand. Thoughtfully. he sank to his knees and began to dig. On top. the sand was dry and warm. but as the hole enlarged, it 322 became cool and moist. The digger neatly placed the shovelfuls of sand into piles around the edge of the hole. The sinking sun still shone brightly on the treasure hunter. and it burned his naked back. But a light breeze cooled him and dried the sweat on his upper lip. As he dug. he imagined what the treasure chest would look like. It would be of gold. he thought. and it would shine like the sun. On the outside. the chest might be studded with diamonds. rubies and emer- alds-or it might just be plain gold. But the inside was what mattered. All he would have to do would be to put the gold key into the lock. Then, with just a twist. the lid would spring open and reveal the round. gold coins. Coins. yes. millions and millions of gold coins would be in- side. He could even feel them in his hands and hear them clinking to- gether. Money. just what he wanted. I'll be rich. he said. rich. really rich. But then. with a start, he came out of his reverie. His shovel had hit something hard and metallic. This was the treasure! He had found it! But. at the same time. he heard a voice calling from the distance. Billy. come on. called the voice. It's getting late. and we're going to get caught in all the traffic. Billy! Oh. mom. pleaded the treasure hunter. lVIom! VVilliam Thurman. cried the mother. now with a threatening tone. you come here right now or else you'll walk home. But it's a real treasure! Now! she yelled. I'm tired of your constant pretending. I'm leav- ing now. I,et's go! And with that. she turned and walked away. Longingly. the treasure hunter stared down at the top ofa gold box at the bottom ofthe hole. Slowly, he got up and began to run toward his mother. Then. with one final glance back at the hole, he disappeared in the shadows. Meanwhile. the sun sank lazily into the horizon. At the same time. a strong breeze lifted up a treasure map. scribbled with blue and green crayons. and blew it across the sand and into the water. The incoming tide reached out along the shore and cascaded into a large hole. filling it with sand and water. joe Rippin

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The Military Acoclemy Gold-bricked buildings rise straight, tall, angular, unyielding pointing their noses in the sky. Windows, spotlessly clean filled with straight Venetian blinds framed by unscratched outlines of olive drab. Lawns manicured to a formal stiffness. each crayon green blade forming a perfect row with the crayon green blade in front of it. broken only by the crisp sidewalk grey. Oak trees shower the lawns with clouds of khaki-colored shade. Cadets, like the buildings, and like each other rise straight, tall, angular. unyielding. Clad in dull green khaki, spit-polished shoes with glimmering belt buckles and metal buttons. Shorn hair accents expressionless faces. Eyes, emotionless, reflecting only endless hours of marches and straight corners. My heart longs to yell at them. Run! Scream! Play! Scuff your shoes! Tear your pants! Roll in the grass! Be human! Be alive! But I do not yell for I do not think they would hear through the silence. Lynn Roach Second Place Poem evoid of all, away from sight ternal silence steals the light A lone is ever T ime is never H ear the screams of timeless night. Steve Kula 324 Tomorrows Child A young boy lived in days of old Amongst the forest deep and cold Between tall trees he laughed and played, The scented trees that softly swayed ... I-le lay and dreamt near moonlit pools Or ran in fields the dee passed through Un summer days when cools winds waft Soft dewy scents on every draft. Yet time moves on and never stills Or cares the way a young man feels While youth flies by on falcen's wings So swiftly new to manhood things. The years did pass and brought along This young man's son. so tough and strong Who as a child did go and play About the buildings. cold and gray. With aimless mind he wanders round Or meets his friends near junkyard mounds Or plays beneath the hydrant sprays Yet feels the heat of hot sun's rays. But time moves on and never stills Or cares the way the weary feel While life flies by on vulture's wings So swiftly now to different things. Tomorrows child though yet unborn Will walk upon the streets new worn Brenda Fox