Glass High School - Crest Yearbook (Lynchburg, VA)

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.13 14:5 Na 'v . li pw? --,ff I e'4vx47 f- J . . - ef., ' P 'fr ' e -If -fvf 4 s . , wx: Vt. 4, , u,,.y ,livin . s ,. N ' .- r ,gmc ' ilfjv' .,' . -,ff 1 ' 'p ,..F3 , ' '-axis,-,'3,f,' ,, 3, EJ Ay GENE MooN, '64 S a lad he had been strangely fascinated by the park, a fascination which stemmed from the loneliness and dreariness that blanketed it each night, converting it from a playground filled with laughing children, into a coffin-like chamber which echoed only the haunting sounds of the darkness. Even the trees changed, becoming huge inhuman hands, sway- ing to and fro in hopes of grasping something warm and fleshy and feel- ing for the hot gusts of night's breath. With each passing year the old park became more and more deterior- ated. Weeds overran the once beautiful and well-kept gardens, the 'creeks and ponds ran dry, their beds becoming parched and cracked, the lawn forever needed mowing and raking and the sound of a child's laughter was heard no more. But still one mortal remained loyal, and late each night he would come, like a shadow, silently, being careful not to make any noise for fear of awakening some secret demon of the night. - Every night for over three decades he came, but one night he found himself confronted with a young couple sitting on one of the old, dilapi- dated benches. At first he was filled with fear and anger, but being of a somewhat sound mind he overcame his fear by realizing that they were only two young people, seeking to be alone and enjoy the night together, and he reasoned that there was no sound basis for his anger. There would be room for the three of them in such a place. . ' But they came back. Each night for two weeks they returned, and each night, a resentment of their intrusion grew stronger within him. The atmosphere of the park had proven to be too weak to keep them away, so it was up to him to see that they never again trespassed on his domain. He would cause such a fear and dread to rise up within them that they would feel death's icy chill creep throughout their bodies whenever they would think back upon what they were soon to see. i They sat alone, watching the stars and each enjoying the other's 'rms CRITIC 17

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I Pansed A Moment Upon A Hill I paused a moment upon a hill, Gazed down at the garden below, To the red clay and the muddy .slopes Terraced by strips of snow, To the wooden stakes in perfect rows, Standing stark and bare,- To the withered fvines still clinging For a life that wasn't there,- To the rotted stems and yellowed leafoes With hardly a trace of green,' To an old tree through whose boughs A lone black crow was seen, To the many roots of the corn stalks Brittle, having worked so long, All that remains of the tassels And golden silk, now gone. How much is man like the garden In the winter of his day, Clinging to lost dreams and chances That now have passed away, Bitter or saddened or lonely, Unable to recall youth's song, Leafoing cold stone as reminder Of the life that has come and gone. -SALLY Woon, '6 5. THE CRITIC

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company. The leaves of a bush rustled and out stepped a creature which appeared to be half -human. His hair and beard were long and unkempt, and his apparel was dirty and tattered. His eyes were like deep caverns and in each was a bright red flame dancing about madly, and in his hand was a small hatchet. They were overcome with fear as they watched him slowly raise the lethal weapon. The glitter of steel in the moonlight, a splatter of red, a scream of anguish piercing the silent night, and it was done. The sound of footsteps could be heard running along the ground, the footsteps of the two young lovers who vowed to never again enter the old stone gate which they now hastened to reach. As his life ebbed away, he realized that his venture had been success- ful, and that soon he would find the peace and darkness he had sought for so long. the intruder T T HE story which follows concerns -two people, a brother and sister, faced with an unusual household crisis. Before assuming the reason- ably impersonal role of the Author I wish to explain that this story is generally true and that its characters, the human ones that is, are close relatives and some of my favorites. They operate a very modern dairy farm and in spite of industrial ad- vances, they work hard. I have tried to portray them so that the variance from reality is only in names. I should also like to add that this story has neither a plot nor a moral. It is not intended to be humorous, although it might be called whimsical. 18 BILL DESMOND, '64 It is merely a recounting of an occur- rence with nothing to commend it except that I enjoyed writing it. When the alarm sounded, Annie gr 0 a n e d and rolled out of bed. CFarmers don't awaken to Chanti- cleer's call any moreg they rely on alarm clocks like everyone else.j She stepped into her bedroom slip- pers, slipped on -her bathrobe, and went down the hall to awaken ther brother, Mike, sleeping at the op- posite end of the ponderous old house. As every morning, he would dress and go to meet the men at the barn for milking and she would dress and descend to the kitchen and begin to prepare breakfast for Mike and THE CRITIC