Halifax Grammar School - Grammarian Yearbook (Halifax, Nova Scotia Canada)

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CHRISTOPHER VON MALTZAHN You Rang? — Lurch What are ya ' doing tonight, Stork? Oh, I don ' t know. . . and he never knows until he ' s doing it. No essay or test ever kept him away from Wentworth or Martock. This soft-spoken hyperactive, young man has been known to write a major paper at school the morning it is due and rack up an eighty for his effort. When his interest is engaged, however, fervent desire replaces his die-hard complacency. Hockey, soccer, and all school sports bring out this most colourful side of Chris, rivaled only by his weekend cavorts with the Wenlock Wenches. Stork has only nebulous aims for the future, but there can be no doubt that he will be successful whatever his field. Chris was elected to the Student Council in his senior year. The one thing most important to a student body is an effective, popular head- boy. The two characteristics are seldom found in one individual. For posterity, Chris makes it. PETER FRANCIS WAINWRIGHT He ' s a very devil . — Shakespeare Newly initiated into the diving circle, Pete doesn ' t hesitate to brave ten foot white caps and near freezing temperatures to get just one lousy scallop . Being adept with both the scalpel and the slide rule, Pete thrives on chickens and calculus. A rabid supporter of weekend camping trips and overnight bridge parties, he freely exhibits his expertise with cards and ice-cream containers. Peter is well known as an electrical fixture throughout the school, as his knowledge in this field has enabled him to build, and constantly repair the Reach for the Top boards. After eleven years at H.G.S., Pete intends to devote his next few years comfortably relaxing at Dal. LOGIC 13

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5 - 8 Poetry 2ND PRIZE WINTER As I step out the door, a frigid wind grasps me like glazed hands, The snow which fell the other night Feels like corn flakes under my feet. I look towards the tree with its brown leaves frozen to the branches. A chill grabs me with its frosty breath, And an old brown rat lies dead in a gelid corner. Now a turbulent wind grasps the frozen leaves and carries them, tumbling, down the lane. The brumal clouds bring the snow from the sky, Swirling like white doves dashed to glacial earth. My numb fingers swell under the wind ' s merciless breath, I am cold and the snow blows hard in my face. It stings like small icicles jabbing into my deadened flesh. I look towards my house with disbelief as if I didn ' t know it was there. I run as fast as I can with my frozen feet, And step in the house with a sigh of relief. Jay Bugden, U 2 Grades 9 - 12 Prose WITCHES, WITCHES The wind blew fiercely and the trees were knocked about like thistles on the prairie. The rain poured down in dense sheets of water. In the marshy swamps of Salem, the witches held a congress. To them, this was the most triumphant day of their lives. Witches arrived singly and in groups and always before 8:00 p.m. Those in silence; then, the great one entered. Cries of glee filled the dark air. Zabala was among them. They all bowed to their great leader and sat down. The meeting was held in the open and the thunder and lightning which came after everyone had sat down, pleased them all very much. This was the day they had waited for, for a long, long time. The purpose of the meeting was to choose a new leader. Zabala had filled her thirteen year term. Now, the end had come for her. All were dressed in ceremonial black. Their hands flew up as if to catch the wind which whipped about them. Even the mighty wind was restless, because of this evil gathering. Only gleaming eyes and white teeth could be seen in the scanty light, shed by the demon ' s fi re. With a wave of her bony hand, Zabala summoned a host of evil, crawling creatures of the day and night. Forward they marched, mini- zombies, obeying only Zabala. They put the pot on the fire and immediately jumped in. The substance within boiled and mixed itself and the insects together into a slimy mixture. So the ceremony went, as it had gone for thousands of years. Then, Zabala walked in stately manner towards the cauldron. Mushrooms old and smothered with fungus, appeared out of the air. They formed steps so Zabala could climb into the cauldron. At the top of the steps Zabala stopped and turned slightly to her left. She seemed to be gathering all her demonic powers for the moment of choice. Suddenly her eyes lighted and flashed through the darkness and a single figure in the throng was illuminated in a reddish light. She had indicated her successor. Then, she turned once again and descended into the cauldron, the mushrooms following close by as if alive. Another wave of her hand. The last command. A host of fluttering bats was heard. They carried the lid to the cauldron. The sound of their wings grew louder, louder, and still louder. A host of 17