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Last Testament
Building castles in the air? No,
twenty year old Travis Ingram
was not thinking of the future. His
thoughts were wandering absurdly
into those unhappy years behind
him, years filled with heartache
because his was the lot of a crip
pled, twisted boy who craved
understanding. Drifting lifelessly
away from the extravagant garden
in which he reclined .n a hammock,
Travis’ mind slipped back to his
early childhood. He saw a group
of healthy, unscrubbed little boys
playing marbles on a park pave
ment. More clearly, he remem
bered jerking away from his nurse,
hobbling on braces toward the
youngsters, and joyously exclaim
ing, “I know this is one game I
can play with you.” He also re
membered the jeers of the children
as they ordered him away. At the
t me he had hated them; and he
was certain that they were cruelty
personified. Remembering them
now, he knew they had been too
young to realize that crippled boys
are human beings. It was odd that
now as his physical suffering was
more intense than ever before
these memories should flood his
mind.
Other incidents crept into his
mind. He thought of the times, as
he grew older, that the fellows he
knew had spoken to him in a quite
friendly manner. His heart had
yearned in vain at the prospect of
making friends. They, thinking
their missionary duty completed,
had continued piously on their
way. Travis re-lived these little
heartaches a hundred times now.
Nothing was more distressing to
him, however, than the treatment
he had received from his parents.
They were never harsh or unkind.
With their wealth and lofty ideals
they gave him what they con
sidered to be everything his heart
desired. They continually re
minded him of his helplessness and
caused him to develop a pitiful
case of uselessness.
Only one person had ever made
him feel secure and wanted. His
HILLTOP—PAGE FOURTEEN
thoughts lingered on pink clouds
at this point. Eileen had been love
ly. He remembered her now as that
precious girl whose father had
been caretaker of the Ingram
estate. She had won his friend
ship in the very garden in which
he now dreamed of her. Eileen’s
goodness and sincerity had won
more than h's friendship; his love,
too, was hers. He smirked as he
thought of his surprise when she
told him, “Travis, you are wonder
ful, and I love you with all my
Wanda Taylor
heart.” His surprise had turned to
supreme joy. Sadness replaced joy
two days later when he overheard
Eileen’s parents as they decided
that they would have to leave im
mediately to prevent a continu
ance of Eileen’s love for “that
helpless crippled boy.” He realized
then what a burden he actually
was to the world. This had hap
pened six months ago, but the
incident had crushed and defeated
every inch of him.
Defeat was a harsh word. Eileen
once had told him that there was
no such thing. He wondered if
she still did not believe in it. Her
life was beautiful because she
overcame hardships with smiles.
How long had it been since he had
smiled?
“Travis Ingram, you are a fool,”
his heart screamed at him. “You
love her and you cannot have her.
You should at least profit by her
example.”
Her example? She had given to
the world when it seemed that
there was nothing left to give. Her
life was a continuous process of
building. “I am a fool,” he thought.
“I do not have every giving fa
cility, but I have a few abilities. I
can think, and I can record my
thoughts. Twenty years of my life
have been wasted. If God will but
let me live a little longer, I will
give something to the world. Al
though my knowledge is limited,
my skill, minute, I have an in
spiration which I can present to
this universe of mankind. I shall
write a poem that comes from the
depths of my heart. My poem will
not be patterned after the rules
of world literature, but by the
laws of my heart. I shall do this as
a tr.bute to God, my Creator, and
Eileen, my inspiration.”
For two days, Travis worked
without ceasing on his poetic pro
duction. He felt a certain glow of
contentment that he had never be
fore experienced. Mr. and Mrs.
Ingram became very deeply con
cerned about him. Travis did not
explain his complete ambition. He
only said that he was press
ing toward a mark, and he had an
indescribable feeling that it must
be reached within a limited length
of time. It was as if he had just
realized a goal that he should have
been striving to attain ever since
his birth.
Finally his masterpiece was com
pleted at twelve-thirty on the most
beautiful night he had ever seen.
Being exceptionally fatigued, the
twisted body managed to slip
under a cool, fresh-smelling sheet.
Above the sheet, a bony hand
clutched a tattered piece of paper-
As sleep brought relaxation, the
paper dropped to the floor.
Mrs. Ingram entered Travis’
room the following morning. Spy'
ing the paper, she decided to read
it before awaking her son. This is
what she read:
Beauty? Oh, what is it? A lesson
harshly learned?
Life in sorrow wasted? A heart
in sadness turned?
Man w.ll love his brother and kili
him with a smile.
(Continued on Page 16)
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Blankets & Spreads
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