St Ignatius High School - Ignatius Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

Page 16 text:

CNE DAY TO LIVE lt was an April morning. The sun filtered through the blue curtains and the blue beams shone on the slumbering form of Frank Talbot. He soon rolled over, opened his eyes and lay there thinking of the day's tasks. Reluctantly he rose, opened his mouth to emit a long yawn, stretched his arms as though to throw off the remnants of his dream and began to wash and dress. Not having to work today, he strolled non- chalantly to the noisy little coffee shop on the corner to eat his breakfast. As he sat there sipping his coffee, he formulated his plans for the day. First he would make his way to the Gypsy's rooming house on Sev- enth Avenue, then he would go downtown to purchase some new clothing. Talbot, a very serious and superstitious young man, believed everything the Gypsy told him. He reveled in her predictions with the giddy joy of an adolescent. On the way he would buy an astrology book at the sub- way station to look up his horoscope. The stars had been indifferent toward him this week. At the ripe age of twenty-three Frank was one of the vast number of persons who con- duct their lives entirely according to fortune- tellers' predictions and the all-knowing stars. He smiled as he thought of the good things the Gypsy had whispered to him over her shining crystal ball. Finishing his breakfast, he made his way to the dingy, dirty, odoriferous rooming house section of Seventh Avenue, plodded along until he came to l3l3 and turned up the stairs as if by force of habit. Frank quickly disappeared into the darkened depths of the dwelling. Good morning, he said, as he closed the squeaky door behind him and slid silently into the chair opposite that of the old Gypsy. Her crafty eyes that shone forth from the wrinkled face sparkled with the anticipation of taking money from this gullible fool. Frank laid his hard-earned ten dollars on the table and at the sight of this the old Gypsy's eyes opened widely, then suddenly became dreamy and melancholy as though she were inhaling a whiff of opium. l-fer eyes turned slowly to the crystal ball, she looked into it and began to speak in a flow- ing voice. Quiet please, the spirits are trying to tell me something. Speak, O spirits, and tell me the future of this young man who sits be- fore me seeking knowledge . . . CShe lin- gered here to keep Frank in suspensel . . . of what is to occur in his life in times to come. What . . . ? Whats that you say about one day . . . ? No, it . . . yes! Frank Talbot has only one day to live. One day to live! One day to live. Frank stared wild-eyed at her, his skin chalk white, his teeth chattering violently. She continued, Tonight at 8:l'5 P. M. . . . beware of the man who knocks at your door. Frank jumped from his seat and bolted from the room as though snatched by an in- visible hand.

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CAri6fm0z6 in by BEN HUDIK, '48 The snow tluttered gently As T Walked through the park it Was quiet and peaceful, The evening quite dark. Scores ot bright stars Slowly were born, And my soul Was inspired By thoughts ot that morn. Marys arms cradling Christ With Ioseph near by Was the picture l saw As l looked to the sky. 'Tis the gitt supreme To receive Him this Way- His body and blood On this Divine Day. 13

Page 17 text:

Frank had walked for hours racking his brain to discover what he might do to avoid or prevent what seemed to be the inevitable. A cold sweat covered him from head to foot, his clothing hung loosely on him dampened through and through by perspiration. His mind wandered over the day's events, how awe-stricken he had been at the Gypsy's proclamation, how people had stared at him as he ran along the street imploring every passer-by to save him, until finally when his frenzied fear had seemed to reach its bursting point, a strong hand had seized him by the arm, and the cold, hard voice of a policeman had barked, What's the trouble, buddy? He was taken to the station and there, in a state of near-hysteria, told his story to the desk sergeant. He was re- leased and told to return to his hotel room. Suddenly Franks mind began to clear, he started to think straight. His pace quick- ened, the perspiration disappeared from his forehead and his mind began to function with the precisioned deadliness of a hunted criminal. He stopped momentarily at a hardware store, deposited a small brown package in his pocket and then made a bee- line for his hotel. When Talbot arrived at his apartment in the hotel it was 7:15 P. M .... only an hour left. He turned over and over in his mind what the Gypsy had said, Beware of the man that knocks ,... beware of the man that knocks on your door at 8:15 tonight. Time dragged slowly by, but at last the large hand on his watch pointed to twelve and the small one to eight. Only fifteen minutes remaining in which to act. He rose, walked across the hall to an empty room he had access to and waited in the darkened room with the door slightly ajar. The ticking of his watch sounded like the pounding of a drum as Frank Talbot waited for the ominous minute of 8:15 P. M. to arrive. 8:09, 8:10, 8:ll. Slowly, slowly they passed, the resounding beats of Franks heart counting each second. At 8:18 Frank drew the brown package from his pocket. With steady hands he took the paper off a piece of cold, black metal. He checked it carefully, loaded it and pointed the business end of a .45 automatic at the door of his room. At 8:15 sharp the figure of a man walked up to Franks room and knocked on his door. He waited until the man knocked a second time, then pumped four bullets into the strangers back. Frank shuddered as he saw the figure of his brother Tom on the hall floor. He quickly recalled how he had promised Tom to pay him the 35.00 he owed him on this night. Momentarily Frank was paralized with fear, grief, and bewilderment. Nl shot my brother Tom in cold blood. Suddenly doors began to open, people be- gan to run down the hall to the scene of the crime. Slowly, slowly Frank backed away, nodding his head, telling himself he could not have possibly done this. He in- creased his backward pace slightly and be- fore he could realize what was happening, his feet rose to the height of his head and he felt himself falling. Frank had backed through an open window and plunged ten stories to the pavement below. All was sud- denly quiet. The only sound was that of a small newsboy announcing in a strident voice, Get your paper here, insane Gypsy arrested on Seventh Avenue. Get your paper here. His voice faded in the distance, and Death strode elsewhere to ferret out new victims.