Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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GRADUATING CLASS-BOYS

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GRADUATING CLASS-'GIRLS

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The Christmas llfhuce Ghost THE SKY was overcast with thick, heavy, black clouds that not even the brightest rays of a full moon could penetrate. The wind was blowing and moaning through the trees baring them of their bright crimson and yellow foliage. Through the screen of branches and blanket of heavy, cold mist there appeared a long, low house deeply shadowed by shrubs. Every- thing seemed dark but for a single light in the front of the house. Chained to the trunk of a massive tree in front of the manor, lashing and pulling at his chain, was a huge mastiff, his snarls and howls drowning the great noise of the storm. Suddenly the front door opened, and a tall man in slicker and boots stepped out. His eyes turned to the sky, and, as he pulled on a pair of gloves, he smiled slightly and then moved on. Well, Rover, old boy, are you ready to prove to the villagers that their Christmas Eve Ghost is just a story? The dog licked his master's hand in reply, and soon as unleashed they started down the wide driveway. At the entrance, Rolin Falstaff paused and looked back. Then slowly, as though time were forever, he lit a cigarette. The light of the match showed a young, handsome face, pale, though strong, with dark, lustrous, blue eyes and black, shiny hair, which curled over his fine head. Q At a fork in the road they turned and entered a more rocky section, barren of trees and roads. The only sign of travel was a dim trail which led to the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The going was hard and there- fore, very slow, for the wet, slimy rocks were dangerous footing. If one slipped here, he was doomed to be dashed to pieces by the terrific force of the angry waves, but soon, without mishap, they reached a hollow not quite so moist and somewhat sheltered from the cold, December wind. Here the young man stopped with a sigh of relief. Well, old chap, he said to the dog, we're here and in for a big storm, too. I'm afraid our ghost won't come tonight. An eerie howl echoed up through the rocks, encouraged by the raging wind. The young man pulled his coat up tighter around his neck with a shudder, when suddenly a low growl from the dog caused Rolin to jerk his head back. For a minute he could see nothing for the wind was blowing the rain into his eyes. Then everything cleared, and he saw standing before him on a rock dangerously close to the edge a girl in a long, white robe. Was this the fleeting figure which had so frightened the people for two previ- ous nights? The moon breaking through the clouds gave light to her exquisite beauty, and Rolin's flash showed the terror on her face. Her arms grew tense at her side, and her eyes, before lifted towards the sky, were now fixed with a frightened stare upon Rolin. Who are you? she asked in a terrorized voice. I am Rolin Falstaff, and who are you? he asked softly, not wishing to increase her fright. But fear seemed to have left her for she cautiously descended from the rock. When she reached Rolin, she looked up at him with a questioning glance. Yes, he was really there! She lifted her small, white hand and brushed it across her forehead as though trying to lift a cobweb away. I .