Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 29 What the Cat Saw I am the cat, and what I saw is a tale which has never been told. But since my mistress has to write a story, she decided to tell my own experience. Why she couldn ' t use one of her own, I really don ' t know, but anyway, here it is. You ' ll have to excuse any exag- gerations, because she, that ' s my mistress, has to make it sound good. I ' ll tell you when something isn ' t exactly right. After all, I ' m telling this story, even though she ' s writing it. It all began one day when I decided to have a snack and began to wander up to the attic. Mice were plentiful there, and my favourite dish happens to be these creatures. No one noticed me as I slunk up the stairs, pausing only to chase a fly or bat a flower in a vase. Life seemed so dull, and to think I was to live at least nine of these so-called lives. This really doesn ' t matter, though, because I do have fun. Back to the subject of those delicious monsters in the attic. At this thought I began to go a little faster. Then before me lay the attic and my snack. Something was different about it all, though. What was it? Oh! someone had taken away my favourite box. Even though it M as full of old newspapers and magazines, it was really quite comfortable. I figured that the search for a new napping place would just have to wait; for, you see, those tiny animals I was drooling for were now right before my eyes. Then the chase began! Knocking over an old chair, a cracked purple vase, which wasn ' t too pleasing to look at, I finally caught my snack. Quite pleasant it was, nice and plump, too. Smack , that did taste good. Oh, oh, there comes mistress; guess she heard the vase fall. It was too late; she was bending over me, scolding me for breaking such a gorgeous antique. Slowly I crept away into a dark corner. The memories of my snack had faded away. Now I was in trouble; this meant being locked up in the kitchen, with no freedom at all. Suddenly, mistress gave a cry of surprise; this made me jump back to my senses. In the midst of the broken chips of the vase lay a beautiful shining round thing. As I found out later, it was an old ring, inherited from my mistress ' s Granny. What ever was done with it I really don ' t mind, because I doubt that I ' ll ever find any more. For, you see, it ' s been a long time since I ' ve been in the attic, either looking for mice, or a comfortable napping spot. For now, I sit upon a satin cushion and I ' m fed shrimps a la carte! Eleanor Patrick, V B The Calf He was a little calf with wobbling legs and a shaking head. He looked rather like a pinto pony with the softest brown eyes. While he was drinking from a pail placed under a running tap his front legs gave way, and he landed on his knees, his head up to his eyes in water. There was a great deal of spluttering, but the little fellow came to and continued to drink from the overflowing pail. He drank for so long that it was almost possible to see his stomach expanding with every gulp. Finally when he was about to explode, he staggered off and fell on his stomach to rest in the shade of the nearest tree. Andrea Rowley, VI Matric The Fight The sun was just sinking behind the purple mountains, when suddenly high on the ridge above, there appeared the magnificent figure of a golden staUion. His coat shone as if made from the rays of the sun. Suddenly, from the forest, there came a shrill challenge and through the trees came the running form of a brown stallion. Rearing high, the golden stallion rose to meet his combatant and the two horses locked themselves together kicking and biting in the life and death struggle of the wild. Finally under constant blows the challenger began to weaken, and with a final rush the golden stallion knocked him to the ground. It was only a matter of seconds be- fore the final spark of life was crushed out. With a triumphant scream the stallion once more rose above his enemy then whirled and was gone. o t ° Sarah Jennings, V B

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28 SAMARA How the Lark Got Its Song Deep in the Rocky Mountains of Canada lies a valley. This isn ' t just an ordinary valley. It has the high mountains all around it and on its floor shimmers a lake. By day the water reflects the colours that are so lovely and the blue, blue sky. By night it holds an ominous shadow but only until the moon rises and the stars come out. There is a meadow on the valley floor as well. The tall grasses are dotted by an odd red poppy or a wild tiger lily. Why do I call this an unordinary valley? It has all the qualities that any other might have, but to make it difl erent, it holds a secret. One day the wind in the trees told it to me. There was a time long ago when the earth was inhabited only by the animals, fish and birds. Each of these creatures had a voice and some sort of song which it could sing. All, that is, except the lark family. Conditions for larks in this valley were ideal. There was water to drink and to bathe in, much room to fly about in, and many other birds for com- pany. Aiany of these winged creatures chose to build their nests in the grass or trees. There was a section on the meadow set aside for larks especially and there was one happy fam- ily with many children which lived on Lark ' s lane. The youngest of the family was a boy named Flip. As you can imagine, he was a rascal. He loved to play tricks on all the other animals and found life very wonderful and so much fun. That was until the night of the great concert rolled around. This concert was held on the shores of the lake and every animal came. Some came from the high slopes; the fish rose from the deep underwater caves of the lake and even King Eagle came down from his lofty perch. There was great con- fusion all that day. While feasts were laid out, strange noises could be heard from every nook and cranny. These sounds, as you may have already guessed, were the tuning up exercises And so the evening came on. The sun set, twilight fell, and the moon rose. The moon seemed to have put on his brightest light for the occasion. The singing began. The old mama bears loved to sit in a group, put back their heads, rock to and fro, and harmonize. Little FHp was feeling the gaiety, but was perhaps a little sad too. You must remember that he didn ' t have a song. As the voices rose, the rhythm chang- ed; the peak of the music was reached. It was twelve o ' clock, the witching hour. A black shadow crossed the moon. Little Flip got very excited. He hopped up and down, then he beat his wings and rose to investigate that cloud, but it soon passed and the music grew softer. Flip began to sail downward but he was halted in mid-air. What could have stopped him? He was in the path of an echo. Flip was so surprised that his jaw dropped open. All of a sudden he felt a terrible jolt. The echo had gone into his mouth. He swal- lowed hard but the lump stuck in his throat. As the singing stopped he fell head over heels to the ground. He went over to the crowd that had been watching him, opened his mouth and out came the most beautiful sound. He could sing, and as he sang all the other larks joined in. The singing swelled as all of the creatures sang with them to praise God until the dawn made them aware that they were tired. All M ' ent to their homes while Flip just tucked his head under his wing and went to sleep, a tired but happy little lark. Barbara Kennedy, VI Matric

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30 SAMARA The Daydream I gazed unseeingly out of my sixth floor office window. It was a hiot, humid, sticky day, the kind of day that the sun broils down on the pavement, making Hfe almost unbearable. Slowly my mind drifted from my stuffy office, farther and farther away, until suddenly I was back at our farm. It was just sunset as I sat on the crooked rail fence that ran about the apple orchard. It was cool and peaceful, no blaring city noises, no cars, telephones, aeroplanes, trains or any of the other numer- ous noises, just the contented grunt of a bullfrog and an occasional tonk-tonk of a cowbell. The sun had set now, and slowly the pale moon sailed up from behind a thicket. Humping and sprawling between the branches of the pine trees, finally the round pale ball appeared in the Eastern sky. A whip-poor-will called faintly from afar and suddenly the weird, mournful cry of a loon rang out. Again and again it echoed across the lake and died away. Startled, an owl hooted as the silence descended. The sharp report of an automobile frightened me, and I awoke with a jump to my stuffy office and the sticky overpowering heat. I sighed heavily and re- turned once more to my work. Sue Hamilton, VC II Uninspiring He was a small, indistinct man, the sort who does the shopping for his wife. He wore a brown tweed suit, with leather elbow- patches and crepe-rubber-soled shoes. He had a small paunch, sloping shoulders and un- naturally short arms. His face was a perfect type , the sort that belongs to the vast army of little grey men , typified by its peculiar ex- piression, that of constant apology, as though he were forever trying to justify his existence. His eyes were brown and slightly, just slight- ly, bloodshot. His nose ran dejectedly towards a pursed, rather old-maidish mouth. His hair was a nondescript brown, which he smoothed continually with well-mannered, but nervous hands. „ Vicky Brain, I VI Matric Composition Deadline No longer was I able to put it off; so with a final sigh I took out a sheet of paper, filled my pen and sat down all prepared. Prepared for what? Such was the thought that buzzed through my head as I ransacked my memory for an unusual personal experience. The ticking of the clock seemed to mock me as I gazed at the list of suggested titles: Beware of Dogs was one; since I value dogs highly, it did not appeal to me. Another was Green Apples . I could think only of an unpleasant, far from unusual experience with green apples. On the next page I found this title, Achilles Heel , which intrigued me, however, I was not in an imaginative mood. Some of the other titles were Muskie , Dead Adan ' s Run , Fear is a Black Panther , and One Came Back . In vain I continued to search for something suitable, but no title brought any inspiration to my mind. A glance at the clock told me a half hour had gone by wasted. If I could only put it off until later, but I had no alternative since it was due the following day. I was seized suddenly by a feeling of panic as I th ought of the French, Spanish, and Biology yet to be done, when my eyes came to a stop at one of the suggested titles. What was it? That is right; you guessed it, Composition Deadline . TONTON DaRRICADES, VI Upper Penitence There is no longer the excited frenzy of our pup as he plays joyfully about the yard. The happy and once carefree personality has suddenly disappeared, and we see standing before his towering master a small shivering form. His tail, which is usually wagging con- tinually behind him, is sagging between his legs, and the expression in his eyes is one of hurt and pathos. He dares not turn away although he would like to, and a low whimp- ering tone is heard in place of a loud bark. We do understand, though, for this is a dog which has just been scolded by his beloved master. „ Pat Slemon, VI Matric