FROM THE SCRAPBOOK
by Dr. Bill Randall
April 97
I have a special treat for my readers this month. I have been reading other people’s stories, and I know you will enjoy them as I have. Poetry, imaginative fiction, dramatic moments, humor and romance – and these are written by young teenagers.
Just in case some of you played the little word game from last month here are the matching words and meanings.
1 – F 2 – E 3 – C 4 – G 5 – I
6 – J 7 – A 8 – B 9 – 0 10 – H
Wham! I heard the sickening sound of brakes smashing and a loud thud, a whimper and then quietness. Lady, I thought and a picture shot through my head, I was panic stricken. The dog had always been on the road and now her lesson was learned but what good was it now. She was dead, I knew it. The tears that were welled up inside burst out like an angry dam and flooded down my cheeks. There she lay her body mangled and blood stained. I loved that dog so much. Why did she have to die? Bye, Lady, I whisper, Bye.
Amanda Riley
THE CANE CAPER
Rhys watches closely as the elderly lady enters the hospital waiting room. To him she looks like a raisin that’s been sitting in a bathtub for two years.
As she takes her seat his eyes shift from her raisin head to the cane by her side, Ohhh, how much fun he could have with that cane. It could be a sword, gun, baseball bat, or he could just hit other patients with it.
Slowly he moves toward the cane, trying not to look suspicious. Then, like a flash, he pounces on the cane as if he were a blood-thirsty tiger.
He caught the old lady off guard and she jumped out of her chair.
Quickly he swings the cane from there side, but not quick enough. Her wrinkled hands lash out and grip the other end of the cane. The two begin a game of tug-of-war. The old lady growls at the three-year old at the end of the cane. The boy tries to growl back but is unsuccessful. Nothing leaves his mouth but spit.
Soon the boy’s chubby hands are pulled away from the cane by his mother.
“I’ll be back! You haven’t seen the last of me!” he yells as his mother carries him out to the hall.
Josie McKinney
Kelsey my sister was a cute little baby with jet black hair. She was so cute it was hard to believe she had a problem with her heart. Right after she was born she had to be flown straight to the I.W.K. in Halifax.
Twelve days later it was Christmas night. My father came in and told me to take up and he started filling a suitcase with my clothes. That night we drove to Halifax to be with Kelsey.
When my family and I got to Halifax, I saw Kelsey laying there and I knew then (in my heart) she would always be my little sister. No matter what happens. It hurt me to see all the tubes that were hooked up to her frail body.
All kinds of people came down to see us during this time. Our relatives, friends and preachers all came and prayed with us.
We decided that they should take her off the machines. This was the hardest part because now my sister was gone, my only sister.
During her funeral there was a lot of support from people that cared. When I saw her in the casket I felt like God didn’t love me. Today I realize that there was a reason why God took Kelsey away. As I look back at that time it brings tears to my eyes but I know I’ll see her someday when God calls me home.
Justin VanHorne
MY TURN AT BAT
My legs are as tight as rubber bands. My heart is pounding like a drum. I step slowly like a cat ready to pounce. fear takes over my body, but under that fear is excitement. My palms are sweaty. The pitcher stares at me like an angry dog. The pitch comes as fast as a bullet and connects with the bat like a bolt of lightning. I run like a mad bull. Finally, safe at 1st.
Paul
Special Moments
The world’s a funny place you know, And time is stranger still.
Sometimes it passes very slow, Or it’s against our will.
We never really seem to learn, To use the time we’ve got. For things we really want to do, It’s here and then it’s not.
For yesterday’s a memory, Of special moments past. So let’s forget what’s been and gone, And make new moments last.
As special moments people share, Together here and now.
Nurture love within our hearts, And create more time somehow.
Amanda Wood
The MorningThe treetops glistened with the morning dew,
and the wind whispered as it softly blew. There was no sign of life – for all was still. There was no one around to feel the early
morning’s chill.
The wind picked up speed, and the trees began to sway,
but there was no one there to see the leaves blow away.
Everyone was asleep, not a word was spoken. But as the people woke up, the spell was broken.
Sabrina Nason
THE LOOKING GLASS PEOPLE
The mirror is an odd thing of mystery. The idea of it is quite simplistic, yet the power of it is overwhelming. It can be a tool of beauty, comfort or love. The mirror can be an ally who keeps your secrets and desires safe. It can also be an enemy, making an effigy of all your best features. It will distort you and leave you clinging to the last your shred of sanity. Yet the more you hate it the more you hate yourself. The mirror makes you see who you really are, not some self imposing imposter on your personality. The mirror will never judger you, but it will make you judge yourself. And all of this time, the only person you’re looking at is you.
Judson VanDine
Source: Rev. Bill Randall’s “From The Scrapbook Vol. One.”
