Page 149 - 1986

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The wind was howling through the open window. The child rose with a start and jumped out of bed. The small boy trembled as he inched his way across the floor. Each roar of the wind brought uneasiness to his step. The curtains seemed alive like hands reaching towards him .
Slowly his hand grasped at the icy clasp of the window. The frame creaked with every pull. It seemed to take an eternity for the window to move downward.
Suddenly the wind came alive as if it knew it would soon be locked out.
As the child's last tug forced the window shut, the wind moaned then screamed, then was silent.
Glen Somerville
Tension ran up his spine like tiny creeping fingers. His eyes bore into those of the determined goalie.
The whistle rang out. The lone player skated off the red line closer and closer to the net. "Snap!" The puck shot through the air. The net bulged out upon impact. He raced around the rink. The roar of the crowd followed him.
Malcolm McDiarmid
Why were people given brains When they refuse to use them? And why were people given lives When they constantly abuse them? Why were people given eyes
When they refuse to see?
And why were people given arms
Just to hurt you and me?
These questions I ask passionately
But no answers I receive!
And the excuses that are spread around Are impossible to believe!
When and if you provide
The answers I require!
Then I'll believe there still may be
Some good people to admire!
Crystal Armbrust
MAGGIE LEITHHEAD DEREK FRYER
ART & LIT 145