Saint Laurent High School - Milestone Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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back was to me but I could see her face in the mirror and it was beautiful, quiet, alluring. I began to move towards her, hesitated, then fully approached. Before I could ask her she told me with her eyes that she would love to dance. I followed the incandescent odor of her perfume as she led me to the floor. She fell smoothly into my arms and instantly became part of me. She moved rhythmically exact to my move- ments, and there was no-one else near. She held me close, but not so close as to display any cheapness or intentions, just close enough to tell me that she was a goddess, with a grace and poise I have never known. The walti ended, another started, and we went on and on. With each second I wanted to hold her closer, though I knew I wouldn ' t, I wanted to suddenly thrust back her head and tell her I loved her and kiss her because I did, but I knew I wouldn ' t. The loud vibrations returned as suddenly as they had left but they did not baffle me now. We moved apart and danced on, in a never-ending circle like — a merry-go-round. Her long auburn hair swayed slowly with her motions, her eyes were closed and her gentle lips were kissing me though she was three feet away. She was dressed casually in jeans, and a long-length vest — everyone else was dressed up more; she looked more beautiful and natural than any other woman, god-like or not. I loved her. The vibrations went on for an eternity, and so did we; then they stopped and the waltzes came back. We became one again, and I asked her her name and she told me then we kissed, one small, meaningless kiss, and stopped. She went back to her table and I knew she loved me as I loved her — but it was over. The club was dead, the vibrations wrong, and the people vague. I found Al and we left. The merry-go-round was gone and so were we, but we would be back. Every- one goes back. Glenn Kennedy SENIOR SHORT STORY SECOND PRIZE THE YEAR 2004 The year 2004. Plastic edifices groping for the sky. Occupied by the elite, the omnipotent computers. The pleasures of primitive man such as omophagia or good solid food abolished. A world of pills and needles for food and diseases. An example to be followed by all; ordained by the existing government, the religion. The philosophies of the computers. The year 2004. The human race enslaved. By gro- tesque monsters of their own creations. Electronic brains. Cold and emotionless. Pollute the minds of the human race. The year 2004. Suffering from the pollution of the world. Water pollution. Pollution of the air. A thick blanket of smog lingers. People forced to hide their faces behind an air filtration mask. The animal life of the world almost extinct. An electronic mask upon which your life depends. To remove the mask is to die. Only fourteen seconds. The year 2004. Gone are the days of cigarettes, liquor, and marijuana. Gone is the world of make- believe. The only escape left is sex. But a cold sex in a cold world. The year 2004. Policeman named Xirau walks his beat assigned by the computers. A shapely girl ap- proaches. Electronic nameplate flashing Venusisia Vlyfe over and over. Nice ring to that name thinks Xirau. The girl inspects his muscular frame composed of geometric planes and angles. Then his nameplate Xirau Xerau. Xirau is hardly aware of those thin weightless fingers, touching his outline. Shall we? inquires Venusisia. Guess so, replies Xirau. Hold on for a moment. Xirau who has spied a thief sighs, shakes his head, walks over and kills him. Blood oozes from under the mask of the thief. Xirau has shot him through the eyeslit of his mask. Messy but effective. Xirau slowly walks back. Sha inquires Xirau. Guess so, replies Venusisia. An elderly couple walk down the street. They pass and smile. A funny sort of feeling goes through Xirau, an uneasy feeling. It was not cold but excrutlatingly warm. I am smiling. So am I, is her reply. It was dif ferent. Yes it was rather nice; you are a very nice person. They hold hands. An elderly couple walk by shaking their heads. Silly children, say the decrepit ones. Remember that primitive fairy tale we were taught when young? Romeo and Juliet. The funny feeling they had. I think I ' ve got it, stated Xirau. Me too. Oh Venusisia, to touch your face. The splendid ■ . perfection of your face. How smooth and beautiful it must be. It must be a face of Innocence, of courage. : Huge eyes of chestnut visible through the eyeslits. Oh to see that wonderful face! weeps Xirau. j By now tears stream from under the mask of Venus- -■ isia. We mustn ' t, darling. Then it happens. A graceful bird circles above them. This is scarce. It is a good omen. Simultaneously they remove their accursed masks. Hands held tightly. Three seconds elapse. Two humans. Burying themselves in each others eyes. Smiling. Nine i seconds elapse. They kiss. Joy. Then death comes. In the i y 2004- Michael Weiss I 30

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It? Was it because of his wealth? Was it because ot his nature? Was it because he believed, as did his brother, that the good in man is stronger than the evil? Was it because he believed in reason . . . and not violence? Many now stand on the Stairway to Tomorrow , but none stand at the top; and I feel none shall do so — at least not in our lifetime. It is not necessary to identify the men about whom I have spoken ... we all shoud know them. If all men are brothers , then I feel a deep and soul-scaring shame, for my brothers were killed by my brothers. Stephen Rae SENIOR ESSAY HONOURABLE MENTION JOURNEY INTO THE UNKNOWN The day was still young when I started my journey into the unknown wilderness of the Canadian Rockies. The warm sun had risen over the mountainous horizon, sending its beams over the rough terrain. The autumn leaves crackled under my footsteps as I set out. I felt as if I had discovered a new world, brimming with new sights and discoveries. There seemed to be no end to the various hues Mother Nature had used to change the tall trees from different shades of green to a rainbow of colours. Bright lemon yellows mingled with warm oranges. From time to time I could spot a tree that was not yet wearing its autumn garb. The narrow path that I was following led into a small clearing, which was filled with an array of late flowers. Birds chirped overhead as I stopped for a while to pick a bouquet of wild blossoms. An angry squirrel chittered at me when I accidentally came too near to his home. I knew that I could not linger here for a very long time, so I resumed my journey. I soon found myself walking along the sandy beach of a small lake. The water was so green that I began to wonder if somebody had dropped a large emerald into the reservoir. The view was unbelievable. The body of water was hemmed in by a bowl formed by the mountains. I looked up and saw the V formation of Canada geese flying south, against the powder blue sky that was dotted with soft clouds. It was getting late, and I knew that my journey into the unknown would soon end. How swiftly the time had flown! The sun was begining to move westward and was shedding its last rays of light for the day. The sky had turned from a light blue to a fiery orange, streaked with purple. As I came closer to the edge of the forest, I wondered when I would make another journey into the unknown beauty of Canada. 1st prize: ' THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME ' lil Katrln Partelpoeg won by RICKY STURKENBOOM SENIOR SHORT STORY FIRST PRIZE THE DANCE I sipped my beer slowly, the club was packed, action was wild. I gaied blankly at the dancer on the small stage in the center of the circular bar, then looked for Al. The dim light distorted my vision and the music stopped, the dance floor began to empty until It was nude, I lit a smoke for confidence. I was bored, everyone else in the club was flying, flying wilder than they ever had before, and I was bored. The action kept thundering a constant vibration into my soul, it would build to a peak and then I would explode and my boredom would vanish, my entire insight would transform into an un- canny desire to move, vibrate, and love. I saw Al. He was dancing. I drank two beers quickly and had two smokes, I had to keep my insides inside, I couldn ' t let myself go or I ' d land on that continuous merry-go-round of insanity; the insanity of the wild. When would the eruption of the music end? I wouldn ' t be able to keep control much longer and then I would never have control again; I wanted to lose it so much. I was relieved when the music changed from its luring ferocity to serene waltzes, and I began to search the now-relaxing setting for someone, I didn ' t know who, just someone. The baffling effect the contrasting mood took on me was awesome; I still searched. She sat at a long table alone in the corner with no-one, sipped her drink, and smiled at nothing. Her 29

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SENIOR POETRY FIRST PRIZE HYMN They came, In nameless boots, talked and ate and leaned against the heavy oak smoked cigarettes and cried, littering the fields with their vague words mumbled in fear against the autumn winds, and mutilated ration cans; transient, called up inevitably to the unknown front, marching, ever marching. They would speak, incessantly, daring not to stop, with faces steel-grey as the barrels of their guns, of women, of books, of three day drunks. They saw ambulances rush past in a mud-splattered sterility, nodded to the casualties in a conscious daie, by ancient campfires futilely avoiding what they heard in the flashing distance, marching, ever marching. The trees and stones knew, the houses knew, bomb-shattered in the November wind remaining silent. Upon the ground, wet and chilled, the leaves lay deserted by the barren trees reaching out as if asking for more from the mottled sky. And when they returned, but a few, urinating behind solemn bushes like dogs, softly In clusters, swearing never to forget, not daring to remember, moving home crying mothers, tearful wives, open arms, in the back of the ancient oak a bayonet carved dead Initials, then continued marching, ever marching. SENIOR POETRY SECOND PRIZE THE WEB A majestic web, this society. Woven from man ' s greed, his lust. Strengthened by his hate and Ignorance Nobody can escape the web. Spun from the horizons it stretches. The center a mass of the wealthiest thread The edges a mass of the poorest sinews But nobody can escape the web. Men will try and fail, the web still decays The structure isn ' t equal. Preachers of repair, oppressed by the warlords The poor will gain the rich will down The web will break and all will fall. Youth revolt, but still within the web. Nothing is gained but all Is lost. Strained by the love within a few The web will break, and paradise found. C. Alsbury SENIOR POETRY HONOURABLE MENTION In the distance a foghorn sounds Inside huddle two souls Quivering from the presence of each other. They turn and their eyes meet. Their hearts beat rhythmically To the waves hitting the shore Their ears hear only the love that binds them. Peace. Louise Schrier Howard Albert JUNIOR PROSE PROSE SECTION FIRST PRIZE IN MEMORIAM Joh n F. Kennedy — a name we ' ll all remember. He dedicated his life to mankind. He inspired all men to believe that the good of the nation comes first. He respected the individual ' s right, and, in turn, everyone respected and admired him. He taught us that nations must understand each other ' s government, history, and differences. 31