Seattle University - Aegis Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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totally petrified, though it was evident that she had a pair of strong, healthy lungs and a vocal apparatus in perfect working order. She started low. then crescendoed steadily higher, culminating at length in a worn out little squeak. “There,” interjected 1'om. “that wasn’t so bad.” Immediately, however, the attention of both was drawn to the opposite side of the room, where the cause of the blonde’s terror was at once apparent. Prom a narrow aperture extended a gruesome skeleton arm and clutched in the clawlike hand gleamed a silver dagger. The woman seemed paralyzed, her jaws worked, her mouth was wide open, but no sound came forth. Bit by bit the ghost emerged from the wall until finally his whole frame was through. He was shrouded in misty white and from his skull-like face, two livid corpse-lidded eyes gazed ghoulishly. He was a phantom de luxe, for he carried long clanking chains, whose grating ate into the very nerves of their hearers. At intervals he emitted dismal moans. “I’d like to see him plant that knife into her throbbing jugular. She deserves it. Nobody should be allowed to pout like she did and live.” By this time the ghost had slowly advanced toward the center of the room. The woman stood rooted to the spot, as if in a hypnotic trance. The ghost stopped, his claw gripped more closely the curved knife which glittered with an ugly light. And from the slimy depths of his eyes smouldering embers seemed to glow. Tom from his vantage post was beginning to yawn. “Standing here doing nothing makes me sleepy.” He gave a rather disinterested glance toward the ghost, who was now brandishing in air with fiendish swoops his scintillating scimitar over the head of the dumb woman. Evidently she found the strain too great, for with a final gasp of horror she crumpled up and sank silently to the floor. This last feat she accomplished most abruptly and now she lay motionless draped over the rug. In his triumph the ghost gave one last shriek of malevolent, demoniacal glee—then slowly made his way out in the same manner as he had entered. Immediately following his exit, the curtain fell, the orches- 31

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THE ECHO hangings were tattered and yellow with age, and yet the whole scene bore a startling air of unreality. So did the one person who stood in the back of the room, staring pensively out through a grilled window into the ebony night. She was very much blonde, too yellow hair of doubtful authenticity hanging over her shoulders in unnatural waves, intensely black eyebrows and lashes framing light blue eyes, and a vacuous, vapid expression on her chubby face and pouting lips. Her age?— from a distance it was one thing and close up it was another. Making impossible, meaningless gestures with her long arms, her face assumed an expression of horror and altogether she gave the impression of a middle aged moron pirrouetting and posing before some invisible mirror. 1'om clapped his hand to his head and gave a wail of anguish. 'So you took me all the way from my happy home and brought me here to see this? Oh, this is too much!” Wait just a minute,” said Scott soothingly, “the ghost is due pretty soon. It’s almost twelve.” Why, it can’t be that,” interjected Tom. It’s only about eleven.” Look at the clock.” said Scott. T hen T om noticed for the first time on the right side of the room a massive clock. And sure enough it registered but three minutes of twelve. Their attention was soon drawn, however, to the unaccountable actions of the blonde. She began pacing back and forth and her walk was not ungraceful, then after casting her eyes into the air she would bow her head dejectedly. Suddenly she stood still, raised her arms and eyebrows and uttered a low, throaty wail. “What do you think of her?” inquired Scott. Oh.” answered Tom, T suppose she doesn’t know any better, but don’t you think she ought to be educated?” Just then they were interrupted by the clock’s announcing the hour of midnight. In clear, solemn tones it struck, one— two—three—relentlessly on it went and carried with it somehow a seemingly ominous and foreboding undertone, ten— eleven—twelve. With the last stroke the woman gave vent to a high pitched, carsplitting, blood curdling scream: she appeared ” 0

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THE ECHO tra blared forth and a storm of applause swept the air. The woman arose hurriedly, assumed a gracious smile, the footlights turned on and the curtain went up. She went forward and bowed smilingly in recognition of the applause. In the wings the boys were prepared to go. 'You know, Scott,” said Tom. “you should have picked a show I hadn’t seen already. I was out in that audience only a few nights ago.” You never mentioned it. Anyway, this is the only place whose stage manager I knew.” Harry J. Burns, H. S. ’23. %