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

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SENIOR SHORT STORY HONOURABLE MENTION BEYOND THE FIRE In the dark time, the boy who had no name rose up and walked from the dancing fire. Almost to the cloud of black, he stopped. The chat+ering of his teeth awoke the Elder, who cried out. The Boy returned to the fire. He stared at the hot light for a while thsn he asked what lay in the darkness. The Elder frowned. Unhappiness, ' ' he said. Pain. Death. Be more specific, the Boy demanded. Those are only words and I cannot fear words. If you do not tell me, I shall go and find out for myself, for I am curious. Very well, the Elder said at length. But I warn you: you will have bad dreams. You will wake up shudder- ing. Sometimes you will scream with fear when you are alone. Are you quite certain that you want to know? The Boy nodded slowly. Then listen. Beyond the fire, in the forests of the night, there are monsters. Giant, unholy creatures so horrible that I cannot describe them. Describe them! Shining-tusked they are, rainbow-coloured, with four great eyes and fins along their backs . . . The Boy giggled. No, no, I tell you, it ' s the truth! They breathe fire and roar and roam the land on round black feet, and they eat people alive. I once saw five strong men trapped, swallowed by a friend of blue and black. The Boy shook his head in amazement. What are these monsters called. Father? he asked. They have many names but they are all of the same species. The black-hooded Lincoln is their King and he is all powerful. The others resemble him and imitate his ways. The sure-footed Shelby could be mistaken for a Camaro, but he is more dreaded. The armor-topped Oldsmobile could be as popular as the Ford, though he is not as agile or as fast. Still they are all very fast indeed. Heavier than the elephant, they are swifter than the hawk. However, they must have tiny brains, for they have not learned how to stop. I saw the Eldorado fling itself into a tree, heard its dying thunder and watched as it bled flames. Now the Boy had become enchanted in the story. Where, he asked, did these monsters come from? They came from a place called America. In the beginning, I am told, they were tame. Men rode in them and went far distances. But the monsters mated rapidly and soon there were more of them than there were people. Thousands! Millions! And one day, so says the legend, the monsters went wild. They revolted against their masters and took over, began killing . . . How? ' In many ways. The monsters — I may not have told you this — possess magic. They can look at you and turn your mind to pebbles. Then as you stand helpless, they eat you. Or trample you, or crush you. Or burn you. And that is what they did. And did no one fight them? It is difficult to say. A few did, perhaps. And that pitiful few had more enthusiasm than skill. They did not understand the nature of the beast. They thought that the monsters could be conquered by laughter. But when you are threatened by a real danger, you do not laugh at it. The warriors failed. What happened to them? They rode in smaller beasts, playful, happy creat- ures, and raced them in races. But they were not many. When the monsters revolted they were smashed. The Boy was about to question when he heard a great roaring and thrashing in the brush. A monster! cried the Elder. Run for your life. But the warning came too late. A black Corvette appeared out of the night, enchanted the Elder and the Boy, and ate them in one gulp. Richard Darwish 2nd prize: THE DANCE , wofi by BONNIE SCHARF 32

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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

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Let every nation know that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and success of liberty. He carried through all the promises that he de- livered. At the prime of his life, he was cut down by an assassin ' s bullet, but his memory and deeds still live on. His brother, Robert Kennedy, continued his work. Since John didn ' t live long enough to finish his work, Robert was determined to finish it for him. A truly great person, he taught us that we must face tragedies, and go on in spite of them. The fact that John was killed when he was President didn ' t discourage Robert. He ran for the presidency. Then, for a tragic moment, the earth stopped turn- ing — the people stopped breathing. Robert was also killed by an assassin ' s bullet — cut down at the height of his career and life. Both brothers did all they could to make peace prevail over all. They tried to help the world, and this is how the world repaid them! The world lost two of the greatest men it will ever know. Even though both are dead, they will always live on in the hearts and minds of those who loved, knew, admired and respected them. Now there is one lone Kennedy left — Edward — walking on bravely. But what will happen to him? Will he too be assassinated? We all hope and pray not. We will stand by him in any time of crisis. We all hope that Edward Kennedy will live on . . . and on . . . and on. Marlene Aisenthal JUNIOR PROSE SECOND PRIZE THE QUALITY OF A DEMOCRACY IS REFLECTED IN THE TREATMENT OF ITS MINORITIES The sun shines brightly. You walk down a street where many youngsters are playing. What do you see? You see a little negro girl trying desperately to play with the rest of the children. What do you hear? You hear her young playmates shouting at her, calling her names and abusing her. She runs home, crying. She is told that she will be treated in this manner all her life, for these ignorant people feel they are superior because they have white skin. Is it her fault that she has been born with a darker shin? Is this what we call a democratic country? Are the people in this country ever free? People like her are never free. We are supposed to have freedom of religion. Yet the Jews are always being persecuted. A Jewish boy goes out to play with his so-called friends. They play for a while. A girl asks him, Are you Jewish? The boy replies, Yes. She says in a mocking tone, You don ' t look Jewish. He Is quiet. Angrily, he thinks, What are Jews suppose io look like? Martians? An Indian lady goes job-hunting. She has a good education and the proper qualifications for a teaching job. She fills out the forms. The Personnel Director takes a look at the form and says, I ' m sorry we can ' t take you; the position has been filled. ' ' When the Indian lady Is about to make her departure she is Interrupted by the Personnel Director, It ' s not that the position has been filled, I was trying to be polite, it ' s because you ' re not Catholic or Protestant. Is this politeness? Telling some- one they cannot be accepted for a position because they are not Catholic or Protestant? I condemn this democracy for not allowing people to have equal rights In finding a job. People are persecuted every day of their lives be- cause of their race, colour, creed or religion. Yet, we call ours a free land. Is it really ever free? Are we free? Not really will probably be the answer! We have so-called rights . But do we really? Just be- cause we take advantage of these rights, we are per- secuted. Since early times man has been fighting for his freedom and rights. By the law of government we have these rights, by the law of our fellow man we do not, and probably never will. Tina Chopra JUNIOR POETRY FIRST PRIZE THE EAGLE Soaring, above all life, the magestlc eagle spies Gliding for miles and miles on powerful wings Seeming without movement, yet more alert than be any human Still, like death on velvet wings, its eyes as bright as fire Rides the eagle on skies of blue and drives like death on its prey. Kim Habib 33