Kennedy Collegiate Institute - Kencoll Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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Page 16 THE KENCOLL 195 1 SHORT STORIES THE UNINVITED GUEST The house lay ir» a little hollow just on the edge of the forest. On one side, huge grotesque trees grew to infinity, and on the other, the pale beach stretched out for miles in either direction. The only sounds were those of the giant waves breaking on the beach and the wind groaning through the trees. These things greatly added to the cloak of mystery which shrouded the hollow. I stood there, trying to persuade myself to enter the house. Although there were no lights inside, it seemed to shimmer and glow, and it beckoned to me. As I walked up the path, I felt that someone or something was watching my every move. I swung around quickly and caught a glimpse of something fleeing through the undergrowth. I walked a little farther. Then I stopped so sudden¬ ly I almost lost my balance. Before me was an inky shadow with two green spots burning in the middle. I could not turn ond run; I could not scream. I stood there, petrified. The shadow came slowly toward me. When it seemed reody to spring I heard a whimpering sound and felt something cold upon my palm. I looked down and saw — a dog! I almost fainted from relief The dog insisted on accomponying me to the house, which was still a hundred yards away. I felt safe, in¬ deed, to have such a companion. Now I no longer needed to fear anything. Upon reaching the house, we discovered that the door was not locked. I pushed on it and it opened creakily and slowly. The dog walked in behind me, sniffed at something, began to bark excitedly, and then ran out, leaving me again alone. The familiar smell of a house long closed came to my nostrils. I took my electric torch from my pocket ond after turning it on, discovered that all the furniture was covered with dust sheets. Flashing my torch on the walls, I saw a door. I walked over to it and opened it. There, before my eyes, was the most beautiful ond largest collection of precious stones that I hod ever seen. I entered, making sure I closed the door quickly and quietly. I went from one table to another, picking (Continued on Page J 7) STARBRIGHT The short, fat Mrs. Horace Hawksmith bustled busily about her kitchen, but Mrs. Hawksmith ' s heart was not in her work. In her mind ' s eye she could see a small figure wearing a crash helmet and the broad belt of a race-car driver, receiving the ploudits of the crowd as he proudly stood in the winner’s circle beside his red and white striped entry in the Soapbox Derby. Horace, she called to the basement, you be careful with that painting now. Wellington is sure to be at the race. Three chairs he has in his shop . . Mr. Horace Hawksmith, slowly and painstakingly striping the Hawksmith entry, darted a fearful glance up the stairs. Why couldn’t that blasted Wellington have been a garbage man or a constable? he muttered. Three choirs he has in his shop ' she says. He’s bound to da something handsome for the boy’. Handsome, me eye! Mr. Hawksmith’s soliloquy was cut short by the strident voice of his mate. He shook his head, one that was dominated by a scraggly moustache which seemed to follow his sad eyes and the droop of his shoulders, John E. Hawksmith, wherever have you left your helmet. I told you not to take it out. Now you’ve left it somewhere. You go right bock and . . Aw, Mom, o boyish voice replied, I never lost it. I don’t need that thing. I traded it to Ston Sernoski for his broken air rifle. Look. Traded it, wailed his mother, but you need it. How can you ride in the Farr City Derby without it? All the race drivers wear them. Mrs. Howksmith threw up her hands. It almost seemed at times that her son possessed none of the racing blood that she felt was o porticulor heritage of her fam¬ ily. The poor shade of Liscombe Roche, her bicycle racing grondfather, must be writhing with disgust in his grave at the lack of interest of his own great-grand¬ son in his first big race. She looked up on the wall at the picture of her dead second-cousin, Milton Jones, and saw his face take on an air of disdain from his racing-surrey seot at her weak-blooded child. And then, above all, to roce without his crosh-helmet in front of Uncle Wellington! (Continued on Page 17) COMPLIMENTS OF THIBODEAU EXPRESS ( , i

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THE KENCOLL 1951 Page 15 -— ————————————————— Hoard of Education for Zke City of Windsor, 1951 P. P. McCALLUM, C.L.U., Chairman A. R. DAVIDSON, B.A., Vice-Chairman DR. H. D. TAYLOR, B.A., C.M., M.D. L. WHITTAKER C. W. DAYNES APPOINTED TRUSTEES Separate Schools DR. M. G. BRICK, D.D.S. H. LASS ALINE, M.A. Vocational School C. G. SAMPSON E. WATSON OFFICIALS Superintendent of Schools.T. C. WHITE, B.A., B.Paed. Inspector of Public Cchools .C. R. MacLEOD, B.A., B.Paed. Business Administrator.T. R. NOBLES, B.C.S. Assistant Business Administrator . J. DOWER y : -- WINDSOR SCHOOLS EXCEL --

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THE KENCOLL 1951 Page 77 THE UNINVITED GUEST (con’t from poge 16) the stones up and examining them. There was no doubt about it. These were real. ' 1 was looking at a large diamond when I heard footsteps. There was no exit from the room aside from Ihe daor I had used ta gain entrance. Someone was outside that door. “It opened cautiously and a bright light was floshed in my foce. I sprang at the light and — “Cut! The director got down from his chair ond walked over to the actor. I’ve told you twenty times that you must get mare feeling into your part. If you were an ordinary person walking up the path you would be afraid. Allright now, pretend you are an ordinary person. Roll ’em!” The cameras began to roll. The actor started to speok. “The house lay in a little hollow just on the edge of the forest. On one side, huge grotesque trees grew to infinity, and on the other, the pale beach stretched out for miles in either direction.” 1st Prize Stories Shirley Yauell,12A THE COACHES by Doris Crawford Our two new coaches. Miss Thorpe and Miss Allin, have shown a great deal of enthusiasm in coaching the girls this year. They have spent a great amount of time and effort improving the teams. Thanks ta bath. STARBRIGHT (con’t from page 16) Her thoughts were suddenly pushed aside by the apology being given by her mumbling son “. . . sorry, but gosh Maw, every kid in Victoria laughed and called me a sissy when I wore it in the Victoria race.” “But son, they say you need one. Mr. Mitzger said that at the big Derby he saw the winner wore one. Besides, your father soved hard for the money for your helmet ond paint for your car. He was saving it so we could buy some decorations and have a Christmas tree this year, but I found out and put it to a good use. Be¬ sides we want your Uncle Wellington ta be proud of you.“ “Aw,“ grumbled the boy, os he kicked at an imagin¬ ary spot on the floor, “whot’s ol’ Uncle Wellington anv- way, but an al ' barber. Tears suddenly fell out of the eyes of Mrs. Hawk- smith, moistening the heavy pouches under her eyes. “ ‘But a borber’ the boy says. You’re just a little ingrate. Your Uncle Wellington is o big business man in Farr City. A shop with three chairs he has. Mind you, if yau win ta-morrow in your car painted in honour of Uncle Wellington, and he isn ' t getting any younger, he’s bound to do handsome by you, and us. The next morning dawned bright, but not a whit brighter wos it than the plump shining face of Mrs. Hawksmith as she led her little procession to the stop for the inter-urban bus connecting Victoria with Farr (Continued an Page 19) University College UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO University College, the Provincial Arts College, enrols students in all courses leading to the degree of Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor of Commerce. There are thirty-seven entrance escholarships. Bursaries are available for able students who need assistance. An illustrative, informative booklet may be obtained by writing THE REGISTRAR, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO TORONTO 5, ONT.