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1st - Grade 9, 10, & 11
NIGHT RIDER
To-night, through the wind and the rain, I am racing for my life. Perhaps
I should say my horse is, but it is really the rider who is important, not the steed beneath him. And I am a magnificent rider.
Although Death follows swiftly behind me, I, the unconquerable, am not afraid. Did not I challenge Death, and in this foul weather, too? Laugh- ing into the face of the thundering sky, I shouted triumphantly to the winds. Perhaps I was foolish; the winds do not like being laughed at. At times, I can bearly keep my seat. Invisible arms seem to pull me backwards. Me, and my horse, too. Or is it only this treacherous mud that is slowing my beauty. I wonder••••
I can hear Death advancing behind me. Never have I raced with an op- ponent so close behind me, even when I was young and unexperienced. Can it be possible that. •. ? No! Perish the thought! I cannot be beaten, can I? No, of course not! What is the matter with me? This is a magnificent race; me against Death. But my life is the forfeit if I lose.
I wonder if this chilling rain bothers Death as it is bothering me. I will surely catch pneumonia. My head is throbbing painfully. This has not hap- pened before either; I should be flushed with excitement, not fever. Does Death have powers of which I have not heard? But he wouldnit use them, would he? That would be very unfair.
What is that wild, thundering noise that keeps growing louder? The blood pounding in my head, or something else? Oh, Death, can that be you? My hands are burning ice; I cannot hold these reins much longer. You mock- ing .sky, howling winds, listen to me. I cannot be beaten; I am the fastest, most magnificent rider you have ever seen, am I not? Why do you wish me to lose? I have never hurt you. I didn't mean to laugh at you; I do that to everyone,
Oh, stop laughing at me; if you knew the searing torture I am in, you wouldn't laugh. Have you no pity?
Whose hot breath is that on my neck? Oh Death - Death•••• 2nd- Grade 9, 10, &11 MARGARET CHRISTENSEN llA
AN EVERYDAY CONVERSATION
BE TWEEN TWO ANTIDISESTABLISHMENTARIANISTS
One fine day, an Antidisestablishmentarianist was walking down the road when, quite by accident, he met another Antidisestablishmentarianist. Quite by nature, they began to talk to each other using long, drawn out Antidises- tablishmentarianist words. They talked about the political relations between Mr. Eisenbaker and Mr. Diefenhower. Then, they viewed the prospect of flying to the moon in a manned rocket ship. But who would wish to fly to the moon which, after all, was only made of cheese, so that no one but a mouse would care to go there.
They discussed the lastestgossipwhich had escaped from behind the Iron Curtain, concerning the fact that the salt-mine workers were forming a Capitalish union. Reports were that this union was going to put Mr. Khrushchev in one of his sputniks and place him in orbit around the earth. In this way, they would find out valuable information concerning human survival in outer space,
"And why shouldn't they put him in a sputnik?" retorted one of the Anti- disestablishmentarianists. "If he is as bad as he is made out to be, he is no better than a dog. "
"True, " replied the other.
Mter much lengthy discussion, they both decided that he wouldn't last
very long in space because rocket fuel could not replace Vodka which, after all, is the life-blood of a Russian.
Running his hand over his slicked-down hair, one Antidisestablishment- arianist remarked on the recent sack dress craze.
"Yes," replied.the other, "they make an hour-glass figure look like a mason jar," Both Antidisestablishmentarianists began to laugh up-roariously. Suddenly, out of the sky sailed an object missing them by inches. Jump-
ing up and down and shouting after it, "dad-blamed guided missiles," one