Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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TH E A R G U S Uhr mare-Maman Often in the llolng winter evenings, I havien gathered with -my friends around the fire-place in the living-room and told marvelous stories, Sometimes, we spoke of gallant princes and courtly ladies, somleltimesl of raggle-taggle gypsies, and sometimes widh: bated breath, we would whisper the tale of the were-wlolf, how in the guise of a wolf, was a beautiful 1'ady, who made men love hlerr, and when they did, she would suck their blood. Oh, how deliciously we would shiver revelling in the horror of the tale! We would glance fearfully at the danc- ing: shadows, at the flickering flamifls, half believing that t'he were-wolf would suddenly step from nowhere into our midslt. Now, as I tell the story, old childish fears haunt me--but there, I am too old for such nonse.nse. It is Hallowe'en, a time when restless spirits roam the earth, a time of magic, of evil. .AL young man sits in his room. Outside, the wind moans and sobs. He shivers. It is hard to concentrate wlhlen one is cold and hungry. A baffled expres- sion is on his face as he strugglfens to capture elusive inspira- tion. Oh! How can he be inspired? Ideas slip througlh, his mind, elude, 'mock him. Through the window stream twin bars of moon-light. Ghostly arms, they beckon him, lure him, out- side into the black night where. unihioly magic is at work. The young man oblefys the .silent call, 'and hatless rushes lotuft into the street. Pedhaps, he thinks, in thlew beautiful night, his dis- 'ordered thoughts will! right themselves. In a coma, he walks the darkened streets, not knowing or caring which way his steps lead him,-up one street, down another, across. At last he stands in a deselrted little park. It is flooded by moronlight. The moonlight falls over the cracked pavement in fantastic designs, it clothes the bare trees: in radfianceg it sheds over an ugly, battered, marbllel statue its golden glow, transforming it into a 'thing of warm, living glory. There is a bench, half splaslhued by tmoeounlight, before the statue. He sinks into it and drinks in the beauty of the scene. How long he remains there thus enraptured, he does not know. Suddenly he feels as strange iniiuence. Somlething imnpels him to turn. He sees a 29

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THE ARGUS popped open his eyes just in time to see the gorilla descending by the same route which he, had taken a felw moments before. For a moment Chiko stared at him in fascination. Tlhaen he became aware of his surroundings and made a vain endeavor to leap from the arms which held him captiv1e4. He soon ceased his efforts, exhausted, and regarded his captor with fear, not unmixed with curiosity. This certainly was a strange Person who held him. Chiko hadf seen native.s befoneq but never had he seen such a person as this. Why, he was white, and he had long, golden hair and blue eyes, and a gentle voice with which he frequently addressed another man, calling him lhiusband. I-Iow very odd, how very funny, and Chiko laughed in delight. The lovely voice said, Why, you darling little fellow. Oo 'itty bitty piece of sweetness. Teddiy, dear, we will just have to ksefep him flour a peft vor I wlll go straight home. W0n't stay another minute. Fine chance you'd have to go straight home from here, ten tihousand miles from nowhere, Judy, honey, boomed a big voice near Chiko's ear. However I wouldn't risk it so I guess we'll have to keep him. And so Chiko found himself in a tiny white tent, just full of queer things and queer noises. He soon learnled to love the funny, little man, Judy, with the gentle voice and the big Teddy with the booming voice. And, later, when th1e'y took Chiko back to America with them he, didn't miss his native jungle in the least, for there were so many strange things to be investigated and so many funny things to be laughed at that little Chiko is doing it, still. Alice Ratf, B6 atff-pqyr-vv S-07,1-. Ptiiveswfse Liga if V-1507 ' 'Las - X n X 'Na-1.5. i 28

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THE ARGUS huddled heap at the. other end of the bench. It stirs, and he sees a face of such weird beauty -that he cries out involun- tarilly. Slhlef smiles and moves towvard him. Soon, they begin to talk. Of him, they talk, of his work, his desrires, his ambi- tions. Slowly, the moon is waning. It goes b-ehind a cloud as, simultaneously, they rise. He turns, and without one back- ward glance moves away. She stares at him as he walks and a mocking smile curves her red lips. Another fool, slhie thinks. The moonlight has gradually faded from tihie statue, and left it-a bare, ugly, fact. The woman looks at it, and' stibl smiling, thinks of what she has done. Slowly, she fades from sight into the now dim moonlight, but the memory of that taunting smile seems still to remaiin. And he, walking hicime with his head in the clouds, his feet scarcely touching the ground. Whlat a proud mad feeling is throbbing through him! What elation is his! The moonlight is dancing before him in dazzling patters, is clutching his heart with tiny fingieirs. And yet it seems to laugh at him. Now, the moon is hidden behind a gauzy cloud. With the light gone the night no longer fascinates lhlimg he goes home. He sfeats himself at his desk and, almost without any eifort on his part, words present themselves to him and form themselves into throbbing, living sentences. All night he writes feverishly and when dawn steals in, she finds him slieleping, pen in hand, still clutching the precious manuscript, a masterpiece in which youth, and love, and moonlight are all glorified in living, burn- ing sentences. He mails thiei poem and lives only for the hour when he shall hear the glad news that it has been accepted. At last, a letter comes. With trembling hands, he tears it open. Yes, they have accepted it, they want more.. But to- day, 'hae will not write. There is always plenty of time to-mor- row. To-morrow croniweis, and to-morrow but he cannot rise t0 the heigihrtsi again. His poems are accepted merely :ofn the merit of the first,-his only great one. After a while these Poems too are uefturned to him. He does not understand. He had thouigiht to be of the immortals, and now ........ He thinks back on that magic night when the fire of genius ran in lhuis veins. lt all seems fantastic, ia dream. How is he to know that the were-woman has led him on, and for a moment imbuied him 30