1981 School Magazine

In the Stream She sat by the edge ofthe pool, peering into its dark depths of delusion, trying to catch a glimpse of the small fish darting among the weeds. Her long, brown hair hung about her shoulders and her finely etched brows drew together in a frown as the swirls and eddies of the water caught her image, tossed it around in its ripples and showed her a most distorted picture of something that resembled her face. The weeds in the water swayed with the currents and entwined themselves in her hair. I wondered if she recognized me as I moved forward so my head appeared above hers in the pool's reflection. The ugly scar down my lelt cheek contrasted with my eyes, which were staring, ever heavenward. Her eyes widened in horror, her jaw dropped and she let out a piercing scream that rent my battered heart. I wonder il she recognized me; my waterlogged army boots dragged along the edge of the pool and my khaki uniform blended with the weeks on the stream bottom. No shining medals caught the sun's feeble light and glinted, lor I was not brave. I wonder if it mattered to her, though. She sat there, seemingly lrozen to the lichen-covered rock that jutted into the pool. Did she recognize me? When my regiment passed through her village, she let ten ofus sleep in her old barn and then came to us with warm gruel in the cold, frosty morning. It was summer now, the snow had melted and formed this stream in which her reflection lay. I could tell by her eyes that she saw me for what I really was, a dead soldier floating downstream.

Freedom Gained She sat up there alone, knees hugged to her chest, eyes never leaving the white-foam caps that broke againstjagged rocks far below her. The sharp wind whipped through her dulled chestnut mane, twisting it cruelly around her neck, then pull- ing it right away from her face to accentuate finely boned facial structures. Yes, she could have been beautiful, but now her skin was pale, her eyes tired and lacking sparkle, unsee- ing, and unnaturally wide open as she wrestled with the tor- ment inside her. The weather reflected her mood, and it cheered her very slightly to have outside strength balancing inner strain. What a relief it was to sit here on her own, to have escaped the horror and the sadness that had haunted her for so long! She knew that, il they had kept her there much longet, she would have gone mad. Mad! Here, she raised her green eyes up to the wind, to the grey scudding clouds, and laughed long and hard, and bitterly. Freedom was due to her. She deserved it; she had spent all of her courage and endurance. Freedom was a concept hard to comprehend. That's why she had come up here - to try and understand it, to gain a full sensation of it to witness a part of God's world that she had been deprived of. "Bird!" she called to a lone seagull hovering far above. "Pret- ty bird. Tell me what you see ...the sea, the trees, the flowers, and mel Mel" she cried, flinging her arms high. The momen- tum brought her to her feet, and she sped wildly to the edge of the clifftop, where sudden shock at the height that she stood above the fierce waters brought her to an abrupt halt. With arms held stiffly by her sides, face solemn, she gazed at the scene below. Her inner turmoil bubbled madly, and nature's comparative strength seemed suddenly to have diminished. "l will be free!!" she screamed passionately and crazlly. "l will be free!" The clifltop was quiet, and far above, a lone seagull hovered lazily, watching the water lor fish, seemingly undisturbed by what he had just seen.

1. eSr -6]e-