Lincoln High School - Quill Yearbook (Jersey City, NJ)

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was fresh and smooth was dulled into blistered ugliness. As he mounted the stairs, he noticed that they too were in need of repair .... What was the use? Soon nothing would matter any more. Well, the note was written .... It didn't say much, except that he was sorry and hoped that she would realize that it was the only course open to him. There was no mention of his love . . . no, he wanted her to forget his love, just as the heavens had forgotten the earth's need for rain. He put the note under the mat where Mary usually found the key when she came each day to cook his lunch. Leaving for the last time the house that had sheltered him for twenty years, he felt his pocket for the revolver. The sun, as it rode high in the sky, seemed gloating over the damage it had done. It was proclaiming itself the master of the universe, whose rule none could dispute .... It was the giver of life, and had the right to ruin what it had created. The farmer crossed again the Helds that were once his dearest posses' sion, and came to the edge of a driedfup creek. There he knelt to offer a prayer for mercy. He raised his eyes for a final glimpse of the sun, and his face relaxed into a victorious smile .... At least he himself, and not his enemy, was destroying his body. There was a shot, and then silence. A moment of deathly stillness . . . and suddenly a soft patter was heard .... As it continued, it grew louder and made a steady pounding. It was rain. A Ruth Wallace. I . IR? isigfj The Reason for the Rain The sun peeped out behind a cloud And tossed his golden head, And rubbing eyes half full of sleep, He blinked and slowly said, 'Tye worked enough these past few days, I think I'll let it rain. So over his head he pulled a cloud And went to sleep again. janet Nevins.

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Charley stopped suddenly. I was following through on him, and his stop threw my sights off. I brought them up carefully, took a little breath, Wand then Toots seemed to faint right into Charley's arms. I could see through the telescopefsights that her lips were moving. She was telling him something. He threw a quick look up toward meg and then, half carrying her, he ducked into a doorway. They got clean away. We never found them. We didn't try hard. I could, of course, have had them both as he caught her, but,-well, I liked Toots. Eric Weiss. Rain A solitary figure stood bitterly gazing up at the early morning sun. Sud' denly he lowered his eyes and pensively scanned the surrounding country. As he looked, he saw his land . . . dry, barren land that once was moist, breath' ing soil. The sun had done this . . . the sun that looked so friendly, that men loved for its warm heart .... It was cold, this sun .... It was greedy . . . cruel. God, why could it never stop shining . . . for a day . . . for a few hours? The past six months it had been emitting torrid rays that burnt his crops, dried his creek, and ruined his hopes. He couldn't ask Mary to marry him now . . . he had nothing but this arid land. That was not enough to offer. His childhood aversion, rain, was now his god. Rain, the soft patter of a shower or the violence of a storm . . . what did it matter as long as his thirsty land was given a drink? The sun was slowly stealing away his life along with that of his soil. At first he had resisted . . . but what was the use of continuing to exist? It would take years before the farm would yield a good harvest. In the meantime what could he do? Ask the government for aid? . . . No, he had his pride. Before stooping to that, he would rather die. Death? . . . Suicide? . . . That was cowardly. But then, what diff ference? The sun was a coward too, in fighting against him, for he had no chance to hit back .... He could only stand helpless, and watch while the sun destroyed. He would not surrender to that inaccessible ball of fire .... He would not suffer the torture another day. What of Mary? . . . Would she understand? . . . She was young, she would soon forget. He would write a farewell note, then he would put an end to his misery and suffering. With a dragging step, the farmer crossed the fields to the ramshackle house. Even this gave evidence of the sun's ruthlessness: the paint that once

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Arctic Night Across the frozen waste three greyfblack shadows crept silently. Eagerly sniffing the air, they crawled upon the crusted snow toward their unsuspectf ing prey. Suddenly the object of their stalk, a huge buck caribou, lifted his antlered head and detected the approaching forms. He turned and fled. His cloven hoofs cut deeply into the snow that supported his pursuers. Slowly he struggled on, kneefdeep in clinging snow. Shrieking their weird cry, the wolves broke into a lope. In horseshoe formation they quickly overtook their prey. The caribou turned, at bay. The smallest of the trio, flushed with the inexperience of youth, rushed full at the cornered animal. The deer reared and struck with sharpfedged hoofs. The snow turned crimson. With a throaty growl another grey form leaped for the deer's flank. As the caribou sank, the third wolf sprang to pierce the deer's jugular. The caribou kicked spasmodically. The two wolves tore at his side. Bright red streamers spread across the white snow. ae wx: as :ie PK Pk wk wk Only the flttest survive. Eric Weiss. New Day Golden sunlight slanted down, covering the lake with a warm glow. Not a breath of air moved to disturb the calm reflections of the overhanging birches. Lazy turtles basked on halffsunken logs. Across every path and clearing stretched long shadows of the motionless trees. A timid little cottonftail hopped gaily across the road, pausing in the underbrush to flick his white powderfpuff. In long, aerial sweeps a gold' inch swung over a field of unbending goldenrod. With a quick dart a drab peewee soundlessly pounced upon an unsuspecting insect. Down the center of the trail a furry little black and white catlike creature calmly paraded, confident of immunity from all attack. Hesitatingly, the leaves began to quiver, as tiny ripples danced across the lake, distorting the sylvan reflections. To left and to right the goldenrod nodded plumed heads. Suddenly the silence was broken. A bugle call rang through the shadowed glens. The camp was awake. Eric Weiss.