6pilogue The orchestra has begun playing its overture. Instruments of many different tonal qualities and pitches have sounded the initial note. Some are perhaps too loud, others lack animation, and a few may be flat or sharp; but on the Whole, every one lha responded Willineg with an en- deavor... Show more6pilogue The orchestra has begun playing its overture. Instruments of many different tonal qualities and pitches have sounded the initial note. Some are perhaps too loud, others lack animation, and a few may be flat or sharp; but on the Whole, every one lha responded Willineg with an en- deavor toward excellence. Each section is striv- ing to create an effect of harmony, and to in- spire its auditors. So have our group of writers begun; but they must also praceed—ever co-operating, ever alert, and ever vibrant with the creative spirit. They must constantly pursue the vision of a more perfect expression—now adding grace to the softer, more subtle emotion, then soaring to inspired heights of power; but ever reaching out toward a more adequate realization of the beautiful and true. Abner Batalden Show less
AnkcerptirauaJournal Tonight I had the good fortune to attend a lecture given at a local Unitarian Ohwch (the name I_ will (nit out of charity), where before a large group of the elite of the city a well-Wt-of young scholar was to deliver a talk on Enerson and Carlyle. The group attending'tmight... Show moreAnkcerptirauaJournal Tonight I had the good fortune to attend a lecture given at a local Unitarian Ohwch (the name I_ will (nit out of charity), where before a large group of the elite of the city a well-Wt-of young scholar was to deliver a talk on Enerson and Carlyle. The group attending'tmight's lecture was large in size, as I. mentioned, and I was carefully informed by an elderly lady seated next to me in the pews that the congregation consisted mostly of university profession, scholars, musicians and public officials of the most respected social and cultural standing. The service, tr program, began pranptly at 8 o' clock as a quintet of musicians halted our pro-service chit- ohat with a thurxierous Beethoven scare. Then they treated us to sane Bach, Hayden and Mozart. After that a slim pale pretty young thing finished the musical portion of the service with a devastating interpretation of a Chopin piece (it really set .the mood for the rest of the evening). Then a stout red-faced man in a dark suit appeared behind a lectern and p‘oceeded to deliver a few smouncements that were terminated by sane vague remarks on Eisersen's "The Over~Sou1." He then began introducing the guest speaker; He introduced him as a Mr. Eliot Tau-s, Am” Ph.D., most recently of Oxford University. A short list of impressive scholastic and literary aoomIplisMents were carefully noted by the stout red-faced mm in the dark suit. The guest lee. turer'e subject was solemnly announced as "A Discussion of fictional Balance and Rational Aforel'hought as Seen in the Works of Eherson and Carlyle.n ‘ The congregation was now in the proper mood. mere were smiles of understanding at the annomcement of the topic, node of approval, while sane skewed their eyesferabetterlock. Afewevendrewcutnotepepsr sndapen. Thenfrm‘saneuhereinirentanintensee locking,buthandsws, faintlynervcusyoungnanuoee 25 Show less
The waning light of the day gleaned through the stained glass window and awakened to even greater brilliance the iridescent jewels. Slowly in my ' mind the bitterness grew. * * * Midnight blackness and skull-white tombstones in the damp grass. Sweat on my bare brow, sweat and a feeling of horror... Show moreThe waning light of the day gleaned through the stained glass window and awakened to even greater brilliance the iridescent jewels. Slowly in my ' mind the bitterness grew. * * * Midnight blackness and skull-white tombstones in the damp grass. Sweat on my bare brow, sweat and a feeling of horror over me--the nameless horror of all the evils of the world, all the atrocities, the hatreds, the sins. Formless things--intangible realities in the midst of the fearful night. The pale moon gazed upon me with her penetrating eyes. 0 God! Is all earth and heaven awake, staring with shocked vision? Each spadeful of earth is like a clod upon my soul, spattering and threaten- ing to engulf it. Each time I strike the ground it is as if a funereal bell knolls. Forgive‘mef She had been so full of love and understanding. She would pardon, she would pity. What right has she to gifts now she is dead? I dare not look as I open the heavily carved lid. Her slender, waxen fingers weighted down with heavy rings. How often I had seen them outstretched in acts of giving. On her face is peace, but it is the peace of one who falls happily into slumber rather than the peace of death. Her lips curve slighthy as if she would awake to smile upon one whom she loves. Could it be that she loved him? That he dressed her in her wedding dress, these jewels, that he might not think that she was dead. That he lies now, awake, restless, despairing as I lay when my love lay dead? That he loves to think of.hhr still wearing the tokens of his love? And I would rob her of his parting gifts, the only remaining link between her infinity and his mortality? She who had loved so deeply, who was made for love? She lies uncovered in hgr tomb-open to the cold 1 . Show less
you?" "Mbote, Mama Lubi. I came out from the house of Benteke Pierre. He requested that I give this letter to you. O, Mama, to read this will give you much sorrow." "Thank you much, Yoane, Sit here while I read it. Before I let you go I must see if it will be necessary to return a message to... Show moreyou?" "Mbote, Mama Lubi. I came out from the house of Benteke Pierre. He requested that I give this letter to you. O, Mama, to read this will give you much sorrow." "Thank you much, Yoane, Sit here while I read it. Before I let you go I must see if it will be necessary to return a message to Benteke.“ Mama Lmbi broke the seal of the enVelope which was wet with perspiration and quite dirty, as was the bearer. She drew out the faded, but clean piece of paper, and Yoane watched her eyes cloud as she read: Mama Lubi, Greetings to you: Oh, Mama, I have much sorrow to tell you that the spirit of my child, Malata Louisa, has left her finished. If you like, please will you come here a little? If thus, it will remove a piece of the big sorrow which is pulling me and my woman down. Thank you to you, Mama. It is only me, your child, Benteke "Oh, God, she prayed, please give me wisdom...and oh, God, comfort Katalina and Benteke..." She thanked, then dismissed Yoane, went inside to pick up her Lingala Testament, ran out the door, jumped in the car and started the motor. She backed slowly out of the shelter, carefully too, so as to avoid a looming ant hill, shifted gears and was on her way down the road. ‘ The heavy heat of the day was beginning to melt away and all of nature seemed to reflect the handiwork of the great Creator. Myriads of birds had gathered and formed one tremendous choir as their voices joined and blended together in great anthems of praise. The palm 6 Show less
teeth and his temples got hard and hot, as he swore inwardly at the old maid in Celeste's home town who had told her when she was seven, "Sex is a nasty, nasty word!" and ather mother who had told her, "we aren't going to talk about it, dear. Just be care- ful not to get too close to any man." He... Show moreteeth and his temples got hard and hot, as he swore inwardly at the old maid in Celeste's home town who had told her when she was seven, "Sex is a nasty, nasty word!" and ather mother who had told her, "we aren't going to talk about it, dear. Just be care- ful not to get too close to any man." He could see Seleste as clearly as if it had been just last night, huddled in the corner of their hotel room, screaming and sobbing, "Stay away! Don't come near me! You‘re wicked and dirty and awful!" He had tried to com- fort her but when he lay his hand on her shoulder she only shook the more violently. She was so pretty that night, and yet so completely inaccessible. And now he was to win her confidence, be gentle with her, "love her, but do not touch her until she is ready." He wondered if that doctor had ever had a natural male sex impulse in his life! At that Craig played a jarringly dissonant chord and he‘ could hear Celeste laugh at him, playfully, teasingly. It sounded like such a healthy laugh too. After all, it had been nine long weeks--nine weeks of living in the same house with her, nine weeks of seeing her at breakfast every morning and saying goodbye at night--nine weeks of calling her mrs. Craig Sheldon to their friends who little knew the truth. He closed the hymnbook and shut off the light. He knew it might be disasterous if it were too soon. If only he could know what was going on inside her poor little head: She was so gentle. Now he was only a few steps from Celeste, his wife. How soft her skin is, he thought. She is so sensitive, so chaste, so good. He must be careful not to hurt her. He must protect her, but he must not touch her. If he could only hold her in his arms! It would be so easy, so natural, so loving. His hands could almost encircle her tiny waist. Craig could feel his heart beating faster, his muscles tightening, his cheeks flushed and damp. Just to 13 Show less
4 man liked to sit here in meditation and prayer, when it was quiet. ' ’ "But, he thought, "there haven‘t been nor will there be many quiet hours. There's a tour called ‘significant sites near Jerxwalemr which every two hours deposits a herd of disrespectful and irreverent people in my quiet... Show more4 man liked to sit here in meditation and prayer, when it was quiet. ' ’ "But, he thought, "there haven‘t been nor will there be many quiet hours. There's a tour called ‘significant sites near Jerxwalemr which every two hours deposits a herd of disrespectful and irreverent people in my quiet haven. Such people these tourists are, too. Just because their sight-seeing brings them to what looks like a park, they think it“s time to eat'and drink and smoke, then throw their rubbish all over. Especially those Americans! They seem to think some grass and a tree entitles them to take complete control of the place they are visiting and have what they call a picnic. They are really the worst of all the tourists. "And then the guides don't help matters any either. Implying in their little talks that there might be sacred objects around which could be "Discovered," and so, many of the gullible tourists stick their noses into every undisturbed corner, turning over rocks and shaking trees hoping‘to uncover a treasure. And those poor Roman Catholics, they are really taken in by all this talk. Sometimes they even come up'and ask me if I've found arm-thing that's worth having, and some of them even offer to -pay for any relics. "of course, most of the tourists won't talk to me because I'm only the one who picks up after them. But there are a few who smile a warm, friendly smile at me, and their eyes sparkle as they look around. And then I lmow I've found someone who understands. Some- one who lmows I'm not here picking up papers and other trash just because it's a Job, or even because I want to help keep this place clean so the tourists can enjoy it, but beoause I love ray-Lord and this is a service I do for Him. I don't usually try to explain the way I feel because most people will only laugh. But I've'ccme to realize that people use laughter to cover up, when they are bewildered and don't understand sanething. After all, they laughed at Him too.“ Birgit Birkeland 29 Show less
Then, in an instant, I was standing before the source the light. ' by head filled with confusion. I fell to my knees, yet I knew not why. As I knelt it became plain to me, and at last I saw a throne. On both sides of the throne sat figures, igures all in white, arranged like 9. Jury. My eyes... Show moreThen, in an instant, I was standing before the source the light. ' by head filled with confusion. I fell to my knees, yet I knew not why. As I knelt it became plain to me, and at last I saw a throne. On both sides of the throne sat figures, igures all in white, arranged like 9. Jury. My eyes became transfixed on the figure on the throne. A King. A King with such brightness that as it‘flooded my eyes, zit-also flooded my heart with tears. I lowered m head, in reverence and shame. I could not behold the brightness of His Light. Then a Power raised my eyes to His-51 felt His Ganpassion. As I became aware of things, I could feel the presence of someone standing at m right side. I looked. Another figure in white, yet one with a crown upon His Head. In His Hands outstretched lay a great book. Silence fell once more as He began to read from the book. Many words were familiar to m ears, but I could say nothing. It seemed there was no lapse of time, and still many things were said. Then a decision was made. All agreed. I could feel the decision. I stood accused. Then He at my side stepped forward. He placed Himself between the throne and my shadow. As He did my rament became one of pure light. Then the King spoke. Joyce Birkeland Show less
"Did you see that? She just pushed Margie out of bounds. I bet she couldn't play a clean game if she tried. I'd really like to get a crack at her. I hate her--she's so sneaky... "Ohhh---did you see No. five's knee come out like a flash and then when the referee looked she pulled it back faster... Show more"Did you see that? She just pushed Margie out of bounds. I bet she couldn't play a clean game if she tried. I'd really like to get a crack at her. I hate her--she's so sneaky... "Ohhh---did you see No. five's knee come out like a flash and then when the referee looked she pulled it back faster than a night crawler pulls his body in his hole when light hits him. Oh, please, coach, put me in. You know I can handle her." Wheee--the whistle blew and it was a time~out called by our poor ragged, puffing team. Susie was just about going crazyb-she really wanted to play against Midville's No. five. I sat there wondering whether the coach would put her in. I doubted it because Susie‘s too rough and wanted revenge too much. Poor Susie-~still on the bench. Oh well, her time will come. 0h, oh--look's like Susie's going to start on No. five again. "Gosh, why do you suppose old coachie didn't put me in?" Wheee--"No. ten Cushingham charged No. five Midville. "ohhh, Margie did it again. She's got four fouls now-~maybe old coachie will put me in yet. I know I could catch that girl on something-~she'd do the fouling, not me." Susie was really getting upset-~she showed her hatred for No. five all over her face and especially in her eyes. Thuprump~thu-rump-thu-rump.... * * * Well, Susie's in the game now. Margie collected her fifth foul and is now dejectedly sitting on the bench. Up to now all has gone quite smoothly between Susie and No. five. Wheeee--Oh, oh here it comes. "No. eleven Cushingham (Susie elbowed No. five Midville.”---I did Not!" Susie had a hard mean glint in her eyes. "She pushed me and I was just fighting back. Gee whiz, why does our team get all the blame for the Show less
trees arching the red ribboned road were waving gently in the breeze, mirroring the golden sunset in every branch. They seemed to come in pairs and speed by as the black carryall carried Mama Lubi along. Mothers with young offspring tied to their backs and bundles of firewood or earthen pots... Show moretrees arching the red ribboned road were waving gently in the breeze, mirroring the golden sunset in every branch. They seemed to come in pairs and speed by as the black carryall carried Mama Lubi along. Mothers with young offspring tied to their backs and bundles of firewood or earthen pots brimming with spring water on their heads were talking happily with friends as together they travelled in single file resembling an angling boa, to their own little hearths. Everyone seemed gay and carefree, except for a toddler or two, weary from the long trek and giving up at last in lusty peals of disgust waiting for Mother to add him to her burden, too. She thought it strange that the world could go on, apparently unaffected, when one home, Just a bend or two away, was shrowded with the veil of death and its resulting sorrow. And then appeared the home of Benteke and Katalina. It was time to stop, so Mama Lubi stepped on the brakes, and the beat of her heart stepped up as she wondered what course to take now. She noted the beautiful com- pound, quite beautiful that is, in comparison to many others. Behind the flowering bushes which were lined up along the road she noticed many chairs forming a large circle. The occupants wore an air of distinction with their shoes highly polished, well-creased trousers, glistening white shirts, mustaches and dark glasses. Their faces revealed their distress. Slowly they rose to their feet as mama Lubi appeared, and in unison each offered her his chair. She skimmed the crowd, but she didn't see either Benteke or Katalina; she thanked them for their kindness and proceeded into the house. The cushioned chairs were lined up against one wall, making room for a little bed on the other. The mother sat beside her departed loved one, encircling the body with her caressing arms, smothering the small face with her kisses and bathing it with her tears. 7 Show less
enter? The robust chords softened into a vibrant piping fugue and Celeste turned her wandering thoughts toward the organist. How fine he looked, how handsome was her ardent suitor! "Dear Craig," she murmured dream- iLy. "Dear Craig!" The empty sanctuary was full of jostling memories, some welcome... Show moreenter? The robust chords softened into a vibrant piping fugue and Celeste turned her wandering thoughts toward the organist. How fine he looked, how handsome was her ardent suitor! "Dear Craig," she murmured dream- iLy. "Dear Craig!" The empty sanctuary was full of jostling memories, some welcome and delightful, others shoved back, feared, and disregarded. She had first met him here at St. Luke's. What a chilly morning that had been, just last October! It had been cold out on the street and it seemed as though the bus would never come. Celeste had seen the great stone structure and read the familiar sign: "Come In: Rest and Pray." They had had a sign just like that outside their church back home. It was such a friendly invitation--that sign. She had tried the front doors, heavy unyielding wooden doors, but they resisted her insistent pulling as though made of the same stone as that which arched above and all about them. Her heart had beat faster and she could feel two angry tears well up in her eyes. How dared they look a church! Eepeoially with that sign out front; how dared they mock at people and at God that way! Back home the church was never locked and when you were scared or depressed or just particu- larly happy you could just go in and kneel there and everything was so quiet and holy. But the doors of St. Luke's were locked! She had given the latch a final disbelieving yank of disgust, and the mighty door had groaned deeply and moved slightly toward her. Then she had laughed gleefully, encouraged, and had renewed her tugging and pushing until the door had opened a space wide enough for her to slip in. She could hear the music too, just like now, music like a thousand angels singing. Softly she had entered the sanctuary so as not to break the spell. The heavy carpet underfoot had helped to deaden the tap of her high heeled shoes. 11 Show less
Living Wisely God has given talents, To father and to son, ‘ For each to use his wisely, T111 his earthly days are done. Sane have marry talents, Sane have only one. a ' But talents used unwisely, Are Just as good as none. A man with but one talent Who does the best he can, Should be considered... Show moreLiving Wisely God has given talents, To father and to son, ‘ For each to use his wisely, T111 his earthly days are done. Sane have marry talents, Sane have only one. a ' But talents used unwisely, Are Just as good as none. A man with but one talent Who does the best he can, Should be considered wiser Than the wasteful man with ten. Then Just a final thought Which seems to me a must; Could you be letting your talents Becane smothered with dust? Walter Holmes Curiosity Lift your eyes and let me see What's behind two Orbs so fair Can I find you inside there? What if I can't? What if there's nothing Back where You're supposedly? Kauai Christensen 21 Show less
sloped last night with—with a garage mechanic from Pittsburgh Me doesn't care a damn thing about Carlyle!" With this he-broke down completely and had to be led fran the lectern by several of the congregaé- tion. Needless to say there was a great deal of buzzing in the church about it all. But I... Show moresloped last night with—with a garage mechanic from Pittsburgh Me doesn't care a damn thing about Carlyle!" With this he-broke down completely and had to be led fran the lectern by several of the congregaé- tion. Needless to say there was a great deal of buzzing in the church about it all. But I felt as I left hurriedly. that there was a genuine mood of sympathy for the young man.’ v ' Robert Oslund Native I stood on the crowded “corner enjoying the flashy vastness of this, nw city. I looked at m watch and then looked up to the Times Building to catch the latest news. The news whirled around before m eyes and as .it did I became aware 'of the city-uthe big, smoke-filled giant of the earth. Aware that it was waldng to pit in a full night of hard work.‘ I began to walk down the street. However, because of the pressing crowds I found it impossible to set mu own pace. I deliberately walked over the iron grating which covered the dark earth dwelling of the “Wisdom I could feel the hot ruSh of choking air that pushed itself up into my face. As a train passed underground the rumbling reminded me‘ of the hot Burner afternoons when thunder showers were a welcomed occm-ence freeing the Sweltering streets Fran their burden of the masses. _ Yes, the night was closing in-nits arms were lifting the city up and out of the filth and horror of the Wing day. A taxi suddenly came barreling around the corner and the squeal of its brakes made me feel as though a scream were to be heard. Then, I realized that I had heard the'taxi—over and above the crowds, 21, Show less
Unclassified Entries _ Images: a meditation toBerlioz‘ _T_e. Deum' Floods of thunder smomded me. The earth trembled beneath m feet. My eyes felt as thwgh'they were open and yet I could see nothing but darkness. Then the light penetrated m vision and all at once I could see light. Light of such... Show moreUnclassified Entries _ Images: a meditation toBerlioz‘ _T_e. Deum' Floods of thunder smomded me. The earth trembled beneath m feet. My eyes felt as thwgh'they were open and yet I could see nothing but darkness. Then the light penetrated m vision and all at once I could see light. Light of such brightness that it reflected only light. Above and all around me I felt the over-‘- whelming sensation of'greatness. There was a feeling of triumph in the air. It choked me. I could not speak. I heard the thunderous sounds and yet could not distinguish them. The sounds were like those of a mighty organ. I leaked down and saw that I was clad in a black shadow. There was nowhere for me to hide m shadow of darkness for the light was far too bright. W hands were damp and limp. The chill of m shadow permeated w existence and yet to say that I felt the chill was to speak an untruth. I was alone. _ Mingled with the powerful "thunder I suddenly recog- nized the chanting of voices. The strength of the voices indicated a multitude. Yet there was something strange. I could not distinguish male or female qualities in the voices. It became a meaning, casting darkness, covering the pro-existing light. Then came the blackness. Nothing but blackness. ‘ I stood erect, almost paralyzed in awe and fear. Ebrpectancy was my fear. stillness was my fear. Dark- ness was my fear. Voidness was my fear. Then, in the flash of what could have been a century came the faint strains of sunlight. It came toward me. It formed a pathway for me and'I was ounpelled to move. My reason was not free. I did not know why I moved in the direction of the pathway. 23 Show less
night air, the chill of early autumn and the misty haze of midnight. The breeze can gently blow a tendril of hair, a wisp of golden hair across her smooth white temple. I exposed her thus. And now I would desecrate the holiness of her dead body, tear the jewels from her still fingers, take her... Show morenight air, the chill of early autumn and the misty haze of midnight. The breeze can gently blow a tendril of hair, a wisp of golden hair across her smooth white temple. I exposed her thus. And now I would desecrate the holiness of her dead body, tear the jewels from her still fingers, take her rightful gifts? I must be mad.‘ Forgive, help me, God! What is happening? Do I leave my senses, or does she move? Does she stir as if in sleep? Her eyelashes flutter slightly. A sigh begins to start deep with- in her----No! No! It cannot be. In disbelief I cower behind a tree, its bare shadows casting grotesque images upon the grey earth. I stand rooted there and from the yawning cavern of her grave she rises, clothed in her virgin garments, white against the blackness. She looks about with wondering calm eyes; the mystery in their depths shrouded by concern. Surely she can see me! Half-hidden behind the scanty curtain of branches, while the moon continues ‘ in her game,.now glowing bright, now disappearing behind the streaked clouds that veil the all-seeing sky. ' ' A dream, a horror; yet I cannot wake myself. I creep along the ground to the empty open tomb, and feverishly fill in the disturbed soil. I dare not think; I cannot face myself. ‘ When the first tint of dawn comes, its purple and crimson rays relighting to reality the mystical world of the darkness, I come again to consciousness, still clutching in stiff fingers the handle of my spade. ‘ v * * * ' "Jacque, Jacque, hear the joyful news!" My companions accost me as I stumble into the village again, the strangeness still upon me, blinking as a mole unaccus- tomed to the light of day. ' \"She is not dead, our lady is not dead! It was only some foreign sleeping sickness which gave to her the ' appearance of death. It is a miracle. She has awakened! It is a miracle of God!" Naomi Christensen 1? Show less
Short Stories Susie The gunnesim was miserably quiet. The most audible sounds were those of the excited fast breathing of the players and the thu-rmnp - thuo-rump - thu-rump of the ball’being baunced on’the floor.‘ It was a raw-snowy, gloomy, dark night outside,‘but when a person stepped inside... Show moreShort Stories Susie The gunnesim was miserably quiet. The most audible sounds were those of the excited fast breathing of the players and the thu-rmnp - thuo-rump - thu-rump of the ball’being baunced on’the floor.‘ It was a raw-snowy, gloomy, dark night outside,‘but when a person stepped inside the gymnasium door, he felt ' a warm closeness with the stench of human body odor. There was light insideu-that is, all the light that the five rows of light could give. But if one ' were to Just stand inside the door in the entrance, he would think there were only a few people in the building-manually there were about two hundred. This was the night of the championship basketball game between the girls of Midville High and those of Cushingham High. One of the forwards of the Midville team was at ' the free throw line preparing to shoot for a basket. Thqu - thu-rump - thu—rmp-dhese girls usually seemed to bounce the ball three times before shoot- ing. They usually made their shots, too. Janie, the No. five guard of the Midville team, was the person responsible for the try at another baskets-she seemed to draw‘fouls like honey does flies. The game goes on... ' Susie, a forward for our Cushingham team, was ' sitting next to me on'the bench. ~"Look, she said, "Just look at that No. five guard. Did you see what she did to Margie? She really wrapped her legs around the poor girl like a'worm. Margie just couldn't move. Boy-olet me in there, I'd really fix that guard. She wouldn't wrap her legs around me like that." 3 Show less
