Waco High School - Daisy Chain Yearbook (Waco, TX)

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I' Mid-Year Class Prophecy GQ! X69 T was a dark, dull and soundless night. The atmosphere held a pecul- fi' iar tenseness and warmness difficult to define or describe. If it was summer, the air was vibrant with none of those peculiar noises which are to be heard on any calm and peaceful summer night. ' l l looked overhead and there were no stars. There was no wind. Darkness held illimitable dominion over all. l held out my hands. l could see them but nothing else. Where was I? l seemed to be sitting or rather reclining in something which was, with- out a doubt, in motion. l endeavored to arouse myself and sharpen my senses. Lol l heard a small but regular splashing sound and an infinitely small click-click immediately afterwards. Evidently then, l was in a boat. But on what nocturnal voyage was l being taken unknowingly and unwitting- ly? What River of Silence was this that l was on? There seemed to be a hushing influence in its very flow. No murmur arose from its bed. l called out to question my pilot ffor surely l must have one of some kindl. There was no answer. Nothing but this all engulfing blackness. It was a mystery all insoluble. The mournful influence of the unseen was forcefully as- serting itself upon me. There was a tightening of the senses. A dull, cold chill spread over me. There could be but one explanation. Death, in approach- ing me, had stalked with his black shadow before me, and enveloped his vic- tim. I was overpowered by an intense sentiment of horrow, unaccountable yet unendurable. How long this state of uncertainty continued, l cannot say. But finally l saw at a seemingly great distance away, a feeble gleam of imprisoned light. And before l could even begin to wonder what it was the boat stopped. l was assisted by invisible hands CI could not feel them, but knew only that a force was compelling me to step out of the boatl, right into this patch of dim illumination. l stepped on some steps, and as l did so they swayed gently beneath me. l knew then that l must have been entering a houseboat of some sort. But just as l had crossed the threshold, a detaining hand was placed upon my arm. l turned and saw at my side a figure, the sight of which benumbed my very organs of thought. lt was impossible to connect its ghastly expression with any idea of simple humanity. There was that cadaverousness of complexion, and that large, liquid and luminous eye which are associated only with the thought of spectral creatures. The garments that he wore seemed to float about him rather than cling to his person. ln a hollow voice, which served to intensify my fear the more, he asked, Your name? He was evidently a doorkeeper. My teeth were chattering and l was still unable to think. After a few seconds, which seemed like hours, l managed to say, l-I can't remember. At this answer he burst forth in unholy glee. Needless to say, I was ter- rified beyond expression. At that moment from somewhere nearby a voice Z.. , as ' -rf A . tr-,lf - - . PAGE TWENTY-EIGHT

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THELIVIA V. SMITH FLIM She says what she thinks, without th,?:'l'l,k'i7'Lg what she says. Civicsg Englishg Mathematicsg Do- mestic Artg Spanish Club ,IUANITA SMITH FRANCES WILMA TAYLOR jIMMIE T he remembrance of past labor Flowers of fine thoughts. is Sweet-H Englishg Domestic Arty Mathematicsg English: Domestic Science: Spanish: Civics Treasurer Mid-Year Class PAGE TWENTY-SEVEN

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pronounced my name very distinctly. This sound seemed to break the spell, and l wheeled around to discover from whence it came. There was not a soul standing close to me. Even the spectral doorkeeper had dropped back against the wall at the sound of that voice pronouncing my name. Taking for granted that my name was really all that he wanted of me, I fixed my attention on the rest of the people in the large room which l had entered. There was the most curious, novel, and altogether motley conglom- eration of beings that l had ever seen gathered together in one place. And those people! l-low unusual they seemedl Or were they people at all? They had the shape and size of ordinary human beings, but they hardly had the aspect of natural, everyday people. There was something lacking. Their faces were real and animated enough, although not beyond comment, as some of them were gesticulating strangely. Finally l hit upon the difference. They were not substantiall They were shadowy, and by straining my eyes l could even see through theml Ghosts. Again my teeth chattered and once more fear crept over me. l was just be- ginning to wonder if I couldn't shrivel up and hide somewhere when l heard something that made my head swim. Imagine how l felt. It was like coming from the darkest of tunnels into the brightest of sunlight. Someone was singing that song. It dicln't matter that his voice was shaky and hollow. The mere words were enough to give me new life. But, l thought, what on earth was he doing singing that ditty in this terrible place? Well, by cracky, look who's here! l jumped and turned around to see the grinning countenance of Royston Haney! An old classmate of mine back in my high school days. l certainly felt relieved to see someone whom at least l could feel at home with. i'But, Royston, where on earth are we, and what are you and all these other people doing here, and how and when and why did they bring me here, and by all means tell me who that was singing that song? l-le laughed a laugh that sent shivers through me, but that was meant to be a merry one. More puzzles. One question at a time, he protested. ln the first place I'll tell you where we are. We are not on earth at all. We are in that region that has no name. This houseboat is the place of the court of judgment where mortals are judged before they are taken to their Final destination. All these people here are merely awaiting their turn to be judged in that adjoining room there. Here he pointed to a door that was entirely black. h Then that explains the reason why they all look so weird and phantom- like. They are not people at all, but only ghosts. He laughed again. You are confusing your pronouns. You should say we instead of they. l realized this mystery had not yet been solved. I ques- tioned him further. But who in the name of all that's reasonable was that singing that song a few minutes ago? Why, .couldn't you see who that was? Or perhaps you wouldn't have known him anyway. Why, that was our old friend, lsadore Adelman. He used to be a fruit vender and entertained his patrons with that song. But you haven't yet told me the name of that dark and dismal water- way out there. PAGE TWENTY NINE