Franklin High School - Voice Yearbook (Franklin, ME)

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16 THE Voice the doctor's veins when the intruder in the closet decided that he would end this cruelty. He tried to step forth into the room, but he remembered that he had drunk from the bottle and was held para- lyzed by its effects. He watched the man give the drug to Morrison by means of a little vial, and then he saw him leave the room. In about two hours he was able to move, and he, too, left the room. Two days later he saw a funeral proces- sion pass by on the street, and he alone knew that a live man was being buried, but dared not tell because of the suspicion it would throw on himself. As for Morri- son, probably he still lives in his death -cell waiting for that day far away when he shall die and end forever his worldly 'troubles -Gerald Wilbur, '38. THE INTRUDER 0NE day, when I was about five years old, a strange and terrifying incident, which I will never forget, came to my mother and me. My mother and I had been shopping, we came home about 6 o'c1ock in the eve- ning of a bleak wintry day. Dale, father won't be home to dinner tonight, so we will have to eat alone, and you must go to bed directly after dinner, said mother. After dinner, mother took me into my bedroom and helped me undress. Just one teeny-weeny story before I go to sleep? I said. Well, it will have to be a short one, re- plied mother, settling herself comfortably beside me on the bed, while I prepared myself to listen to her story. Suddenly, I felt my mother stifren. I looked at her inquiringly. Her face had a frightened expression, and her eyes had grown large with fear. She kept staring at something - something apparently on the floor. My eyes followed here. Mother, I began. But her hand closed over my mouth. Instead of telling me a story, she slapped me hard and began to sing loudly in Roumanian. Go to sleep. you bad girl, she snapped at meg then .S-ang more loudly than ever in Roumanian while I cried harder. What makes her act so strang1y? 1 wondered. But I was too young to reason. Then she pinched me-not too hard-but a defmite pinch. Loudly I screamed in anger, and higher rose her voice in the song. Amidst all the tumult, the doorbell rang. Mother kept on singing. Again the bell rang lnsistently. Mother called, Just a minute! Then, with shaking arms, she grabbed me closed and tried to walk slowly-I say tried to walk, for I sensed that she wanted to run, not walk. I felt, as she held me, that she was shaking with fear-of what, I didn't know. With an ef- fort she managed to open the door, and there stood our next door neighbor with a policeman at her side. There's a burglar under the bed! mother screamed in Roumanian, and col- lapsed. After the thief was led away and mother had been praised for her bravery and cleverness in deceiving the burglar, she .said to me, Forgive me, honey, for pinch- ing youg but it was the only way. Mother explained that after she saw the burglar's feet under the bed, she figured the only way to keep him there was to pretend she was singing me to sleep. She knew that our next door neighbor under- stood Roumanian, and so she sang in that

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THE VOICE 15 LITERARY MURDER DEFERRED THE house stood dark and desolate against the background of a starlit sum- mer sky. Mr. Morrison, who lived there with his servants, was evidently away on some professional trip or at one of the numerous lodges to which he belonged. He was a doctor, who had no conscience a.bout letting a person die because he lacked money. It was rumored that his young wife had died of poisoning, but as she had been coniined to charitable work, her death was attributed to hard work. At this particular time, a man could be seen raising a window and entering the house. He crossed to a safe in the wall, but his flashlight gleamedi on something, and on closer observation he found it to be a partially iilled whiskey bottle, from which he took a few quick swallows. Sud- denly he heard the sound of a key in the lock, and he hid himself in a small closet from which he saw Dr. Morrison enter the room. The doctor seated himself by his desk and drank the remaining contents from the bottle. Then, taking a maga- zine, he began to read. He sat thus for half an hour, but the intruder noticed that he had assumed a queer position. The doct:ir's teeth were clenched, his arms seemed to be immovable, and he stared straight at the wall. A noise behind him, like something hard scraping on glass, failed to attract his attention, even though it made shrill squeaks and drove daggers of fear into the very heart of .the in- truder. ' The sound of breaking glass could now be heard, and a man crawled through a broken window into the room and 'took a position directly in front of the doctor. The latest visitor walked with a sort of -catlike grace, and his voice, when he finally spoke, was like the hissing of a confined rattlesnake. He turned to the doctor, who had become sickly pale, but had never moved from his rigid position, and began talking to him. So it is the mighty doctor, himself, whom I have here, he said. You who let my brother die because he could not pay your fee g you who poisoned your wife because she would not tolerate your evll deedsg you have been at liberty only be- cause you had money and power 'enough to live outside the clutch of the law. Now you are in my power because of a drug which was in that bottle and which you so obligingly drained. This drug has paralyzed you, but as it was a weak solu- tion, its effect will have worn away in about two hours. I have some here in this little tube which will last for a thousand years. It is even stronger than that which holds you now, for it will stop your heart from beating, but still your mind shall live. Tomorrow, when you are found, people will think that you are deadg they will plan your funeral - and you will be pow- erless to prevent them. You will go alive to your own funeral and will hear them bury you. For a. thousand years you will live in your grave and hear the world above you, and at the end of that time, your heart will begin to beat and your lungs will crave for air. But in your cell there will be no air and you will die from strangulation , He was preparing to inject the drug into

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'Frm Voice 17 language. But lt wasn't only a song, but a cry for help, and in order to attract our neighbors attention, she had to keep me screaming. Now that my mothen ls dead and I have a little girl five years old, it brings back the memory of that bleak, cold, wintry day with the experience that will never escape my mind. -Harriett Edmunds, '39. WHERE THERE'S A WILL - Rufus Grind1e's chair came down with a bang as an imperious voice cut into his reverie demanding, I must have a. room at once. Darn! Someone would have to come as he was getting to the most interesting pa1t of his book. He looked up and saw an attractive young woman with black eyes, black wavy hair, delicate black brows, and a very determined chin. Well, what are you staring at? she asked. Haven't you ever seen a woman before? Rufus murmured an apology and rang for a bellboy. Girls usually paid some attention to himg but this one was different, she treated him as if he were merely a servant. She sure is at- tractive, said Rufus to himself. The bellboy arrived, picked up her bag and waited for her to follow him from the room. She thought a moment, and then signed her name on the reg- ister. After haughtily asking Rufus about the meals, she commanded the bellboy to show her to her room. After she left, Rufus stood gazing after her in mute admiration. The book, that he had so hated to leave, was entirely for- gotten. Why was she so nervous? said Rufus to himself. What was her great rush? H-m, now, lets see, didn't she say something about a man following her? Yes! I know she did. Well, he won't get her unless she is willing to go with him. Not if Rufus Grindle can help it. Suddenly he pulled the register towa.rd him and looked at her name- June Lowlace, a name belying the character of its owner, and written in a clear firm hand that disputed the feminine delicacy of the name. He was rudely awakened from this pleasant reverie by a harsh voice demand- ing, Let me look at that register. He murmured an apology and looked up at the owner of the voice. He gazed at the man a moment and gave a start of sur- prise. Why, thought Rufus, he must surely be June's father. Yes, his eyes, brows, and chin are identical. Suddenly Rufus remembered himself and asked, Would you like a room, sir? No, I wouldn't. If I had I would have told you so in the first place, was the curt reply. The man then turned and left as abruptly as he had come. Rufus dropped into his chair wondering what it was all about. He was still won- party of dering a.n hour later when a tourists arrived demanding his attention. June did not go into the dining room for her supper until after everyone else had left, and, wonder of wonders, she asked Rufus to join her. His heart was in his eyes as he joyously answered, I shall be delighted to join you as soon as the other clerk comes on duty. Just then the other clerk arrived, and Rufus and June went into the dining room together. Suppose you tell me your story, said Rufus, as they seated themselves. I believe that I can trust you, June re- plied, and so I'll tell you. A month ago I came home from a tour in Europe. I