The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

I go there often . . . most especially when I‘m feeling tired, or angry, or simply need to be away from everyone â€" when I need to be alone. That sort of thing. I used to go there a lot during the daytime, too, to watch the bugs and the ants scurrying about in the sand. That was when I was a kid. Now, though, it‘s different. Yeah, well, I might still be considered a kid by the rest of the world, but I know inside I‘ve grown up a bit in the last couple of years. I like to sit . . . on the top of the wooden beam, from which the swings hang. You can see for miles around from up there, because, after all, the playground‘s on top of a hill. Sometimes, I try walking across that beam, without falling off. It makes me feel special, nowadays, to be able to walk all the way over â€" because I could never muster up enough courage to do it, when I was just a kid. . . . Actually, I‘m lying to you. There are lots of kids from my neighborhood, who come to play on the swings â€" you can hear them screaming and laughing and yelling if you‘ve got your windows open in the summer, when the sun beats down and the heat bakes everything and the air seems to roll around in waves . . . but you see, that‘s just during the daytime â€" when it doesn‘t count. At nights, in the summer â€" that playâ€" ground is mine. That‘s why I say no one but me ever uses it. It‘s ... kind of a ‘personal place‘ for me, you know what I mean? The Playground We have this playground, out behind our house; it‘s at the top of a hill in the fields. I guess you could call it abandoned, since no one ever uses it. No one but me, that is. It‘s got a slide, and sand, and those peculiar tire swings that go round and round instead of back and forth â€" you know the kind, no matter how hard you try to rock one way or the other, you end up swirling about in a hopeless circle â€" that kind. by Nathan Ng EnvironmentAt P ropucts without nE _ Packacing BRG. Ch gh 86 Short WINNERS CIRCLE enerations Chronicle I think about a lot of things, when I‘m up there. It‘s a good place for thinking stuff. Sometimes I wonder about what I want to be when I‘m older, what I want to do and where I want to go â€" typical thoughts for someone my age, I suppose. I think about my family, and how I wish sometimes that things were better . . . and then there are times when I‘m thankful for what I‘ve got. And of course, there was this girl that I used to be ‘madly in love with . . .‘ I think I don‘t know. Maybe they do, maybe they don‘t. They‘ve never said anything about it. Not to me, at least. And I always make sure that I‘m real quiet, slipping out at night know Back to the playground. Mostly, it‘s the darkness that I like. At 2 in the morning, there‘s not much except for a couple of streetlamps still burning â€" those that the kids haven‘t smashed out with rocks, flung in the heady spirit of youth â€" I used to do that too, you know â€" and then there‘s always the light from the moon and the stars, if the clouds aren‘t out. When the clouds are out, everything‘s slightly purâ€" plish, in a warm sort of way; I looked it up once, read about it, and the book said that it was reflected light, coming from the sun on the other side of the world . . . I thought that was really fascinating. Anyhow, it makes for a wonderfully snug feeling, sitting on top of that beam. The darkness is calming, and when the weather‘s good, it‘s really peaceful up there. Really. You‘re thinking, 2 in the morning, good lord, don‘t my parents know about it? It‘s real pretty, at night. The city kind of quiets down, although you can still hear a couple of cars now and then, along with the faint rumbling of some deepâ€"throated facâ€" tory generator far off in the distance â€" but only if you‘re listening for it. I‘ve always wanted to find out where that factory is located â€" where that grumbling comes from â€" but by the time daylight comes, the sound gets masked completely by all the other noises that the city makes, and it‘s impossible to tell exactly what direction the sound comes from . . . You can‘t be too cautious, you JOSSLIN INSURANCE BROKERS@EX We want to answer your auto insurance questions. Call us! New Hamburg _ Kitchener _ Tavistock _ 662â€"1644 . 893â€"7008 655â€"2377 Something To . Think About . . "The insurance you‘ll hate ... less! The Waterloo Chronicle presents the winning entries in our 2nd Annual Short Story Contest. I always bring a pocket flashlight along with me â€" for a little fun. I‘ll jump and wave, and turn the flash on and off, and on and off again at the passenger planes that fly overhead at night ... because maybe someone will see me. Not that I expect a response or anything. Those planes obviâ€" ously can‘t change their flightpath, espeâ€" cially not for the sake of a kid standing by a swingâ€"set on top of a hill in the middle of the night, who happens to be waving a flashlight at them . . . but it‘s always fun to try, anyways. And to imagine. One night, as I was making my way up the hill towards the playground, I thought I saw someone on top of the beam, right where I like to sit. And I was right. There was someone. She was just resting there, quiet â€" thinking . . . about what, who knows â€" but thinking. You could tell. What else could anyone be doing up there, after all? She didn‘t notice me until I was almost directly under her, craning my head up to look at her. She didn‘t say anything, merely nodded at my being there. And then we were still. There was a gentle breeze blowing, and if I looked, I could barely make out the nape of her neck, in the halfâ€"light. We sat there for a while, in a weird, but comforting silence. 1 didn‘t know what to think of her. She was beautiful, I must admit, in that peculiar way people can be, when they‘re almost entirely masked in shadows. And then we began to talk. I think her name was Madeleine, but that‘s not really important. She was my age, and wanderâ€" ing, and just happened to be here, that‘s I climbed up the swings, so that I could sit opposite her on the beam. She moved over wordlessly to give me some space. Once in a while, I‘ll bring out some food to snack on. I‘ll eat a bit of cheese that I‘ve carefully snuck from the refrigerator, and some cookies, and then I‘ll slug some water down, to clear my throat. about her a lot, up there at the playground I really do. It‘s good for me. Ruth Bell Kitchener Please return your nominations to the Waterioo Chronicle 75 King St. S., Suite 201, Waterioo, Ontano N2J 1P2 Fax: 886â€"9383 Someone who is making an outstanding contribution as a volunteer; someone who goes above and beyond the call of duty at work, at home or with a community service; someone who is willing to give all he or she has to help others. m & If you know someone who cooy n matches this description, then _ CÂ¥RSzSY W let the Waterloo Chronicle know. . 4 /. f If your candidate is chosen, he ____@Q .‘;.,, or she will be featured in our /) \ _ 5gi{ weekly Making A Difference PÂ¥ tyX IYy: column and will receive a _ \ Y §** A@@r‘/ yÂ¥ bouquet of flowers courtesy of _ *R a * { PETALS & POTS Flower and 33\ & 7 X@)r8® Gift Shop. Pfi s *g | \} tz WATERLOO CHRONICLE, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1991 â€" PAGE 5 DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO MAKES A DIFFERENCE? t tatimes SECONDARY CLASS Nathan is a quiet student who enjoys reading, and writing on the side. We talked until the sun started to come up, but I didn‘t feel tired at all. You know how it is, when you‘re talking to someone and as you get into the flow of things. you get more and more excited with what you‘re talking about, and you just get this huge flow of adrenaline coursing through your veins and you find it almost painful to stop yourself. It was that sort of feeling I offered her a rest for the day, and some food at my house â€" but she declined I‘m sitting here on top of the beam at the playground, munching on a cookie, and toying with the flashlight There aren‘t any planes. however. I wonder if that gir} ever found her ‘place.‘ l think to myself Quietly. ... and she told me about where she thought she still had to go .. in search of this place of hers. She didn‘t know where she was going to find it â€" yet And so, in return, I told her about my family and about the girl I used to be in love with, and what I wanted to do. and where | wanted to go . . . and I told her that this was my place this playground, this beam, this dark and warming purplish sky She smiled at that, 1 remember I had some cheese and water along with me that night, and we shared it there there on top of the beam. and it was so odd talking to her, because I‘d never talked as much to anyone else in my /ife as I did with her, and I didn‘t even know who she was really ... "I have to go," she said And then left. all, here where I‘d found her. She was looking, she said, for a place, a unique place that only she could find; not just any location on a map, but somewhere where she could just be and live and think and do things . . . And I could understand the way she felt. She told me about the things she‘d done and the places she‘d seen; she told me about the things she still had left to do, and what she was planning to do about them I hope that she did. I found min« Chféiiicle Petals &"Pots Flower and Gift Shop she