LEXCORP EATS KROW

First Media Buy for Blooming Company

By George "The Streak" Talmer

Mary Higginson's wish has come true--she's found a local buyer for KROW. Lex Luthor has purchased Smallville's number one hit radio station, KROW 97.3 FM. The KROW is the strongest signal broadcasting out of the heartland. The buy shines a little light on the direction the younger Luthor has planned for his new company, LexCorp.

"Radio certainly isn't fertilizer," commented Higginson, "but it is about vision, and I could see a look in Lex Luthor's eyes--this young man certainly has vision." As analysts applauded the purchase, it became clear that LexCorp is quickly becoming the darling of Wall Street. Everett Wein, Metropolis' most celebrated mutual fund manager, likes the direction LexCorp is headed. "Media is a great place for Luthor to go next. Smart move. This kid'll be buying The Daily Planet in no time."

Smallvillians are more skeptical. "I hope he doesn't change the name to KLEX or something--that would be totally lame," commented Smallville High School 10th grader Jennifer Wade, "and he better not change the music! We don't need a Luthor messing up our music too."

Luthor has some comforting words for the skeptics. "KROW is an exciting addition to the growing LexCorp family. It's been my favorite station since I moved to Smallville. I'm not changing anything, especially as far as personnel is concerned--the DJs are all staying put--we'll just be adding to the great stuff." When asked what the additions would include, Luthor replied, "I see us having more direct contact with our listeners in terms of finding out what they really want to hear. I see us utilizing The Talon [a LexCorp-owned company] to feature performances by some of the artists we play on the air. The possibilities are really endless. And don't worry, we'll still do the CDs." Why the KROW? Luthor responds, "I was recently reminded about some of the plans I had for my future when I was in high school; it sort of resparked my interest in this sector."

Sources within LexCorp hinted that the KROW purchase could be step one in an aggressive round of acquisitions. "The current status of the economy is very attractive to us from an acquisitions standpoint. You're going to see a lot of movement from LexCorp in the coming months." Wall Street expert Wein expanded, "After the dot-com bust, the Street's been hungry for a young gun that actually knows what he is doing. I'm sure he's learned a couple of tricks from the old man. I think young Luthor could be our next superstar."

Stay tuned...

EZRA SMALL AND THE YEAR
IT RAINED FIRE
Part II

By Christopher James Beppo

In our ongoing commemoration of Smallville History Month, here is the continuation of "Ezra Small and the Year It Rained Fire," an account that was compiled from various source materials, including surviving fragments of Ezra Small's personal journal, in the McDaniel Collection at the Lowell County Historical Society, Edge City, Kansas.

Ezra ran as fast as he could, the branches whipping his face, the icy air burning his lungs. Anyone observing the bearded man sprinting full-speed through Burnham Woods would have surely thought him quite mad--and the running man might have agreed. For Ezra Small had just seen a Windigo.

Early on the morning of his encounter, as earth's yellow sun vainly tried to cut through the winter clouds over Kansas, Ezra had found his traps empty. That wasn't too unusual for this time of year. What was noteworthy, however, was the trail of blood leading from some of them into the woods.

October had passed, and with it went the last of the homesteaders who would jokingly refer to his ramshackle assembly of mud and thatch huts as "Smallville." No other human was around to steal those beavers. Ezra wondered if he would regret his decision to stay put and continue trapping instead of joining the others at the brigade base camp.

Following the trail of blood drops in the hard-packed ground, he was soon surprised to see a group of beautiful wolves circling in front of him. Ezra had never known wolves to be interested in a dead animal from his traps, yet these certainly appeared to be likely culprits. He recalled waking in the night to several pairs of glowing eyes surrounding his tent, uncharacteristically casing the grounds restlessly. Food must also be scarce for them, he thought.

Brandishing his rifle, Ezra cautiously continued forward. He knew the wolves would never attack him, but their calm stares were deeply unsettling. Where was the coveted meal they must have been guarding? Why were they even revealing themselves to him so brazenly? Man and wolf generally kept a respectful distance, each fully capable of killing the other but neither having a compelling reason to do so.

There was no sign of Ezra's beaver carcasses. Yet the lean wolves persisted in holding Ezra back, preventing him from pushing further into the forest. Suddenly, as if they were one, the wolves flared their nostrils and reared back, growling at him and glancing back into the trees. One coal-black wolf darted forward, snapping at Ezra. Startled, he aimed his rifle and retreated backwards.

Ezra's heart began to pound as two and then three wolves joined the dark aggressor in moving towards him menacingly, eyes boring into him. With his back to a tree, the frightened trapper desperately fired a shot into the pack to scare them off. Then, as he began to flee, Ezra caught sight of something that froze him in his tracks and drove all fear of the wolves from his incredulous mind.

Out of the trees lumbered a gigantic man-beast, its huge face almost completely concealed behind the layers of matted brown hair that covered its entire body. Ezra couldn't reconcile what he was seeing with anything he had ever witnessed before, but deep in his mind he knew that approaching him was the fabled Windigo. It was almost twice his height and must have weighed close to 500 pounds. The monster's foul stench filled the air, and the low sound that emerged from its barrel chest was even more horrific.
In his petrified haze, Ezra thought back to the tales his grandfather had told him around countless campfires. Although the Smalls could hardly be considered world travelers, they knew from their forbears' stories that Windigos existed all over the globe in almost every culture. First Nationers in the Canadian territories named them Sasquatch, meaning "wild man of the woods." But in Asia, the creatures were called Yeti. In Eastern Europe, stories of wild humanoids were told from Modora to Markovia. Even Bialya and Qurac, on the Sinai Peninsula, had their versions of the loathsome creature. In the Mediterranean country of Zandia, townswomen told their unruly youngsters that "Il Fratello Sangue" would come from the woods and carry them off if they didn't obey their parents.

Furious yelping and barking snapped Ezra back to reality. The wolf pack was leaping and snarling at the creature, nipping at its hairy legs. The wolves seemed tiny and ineffectual next to the Windigo, which with one swing of its mighty paw, sent one of them flying through the air. At that point, instinct took over, and Ezra hurtled out of the clearing, devoid of all conscious thought except unbridled horror. He ran faster than he ever had before, forgetting everything he had learned through his long life outdoors, even the trail he had taken from his camp. Deeper and deeper into the woods he loped, barely glancing behind him but still feeling the earth-shaking booms of the Windigo's footfalls as it pursued him.

To his amazement, Ezra soon noticed the black wolf running in front of him. As the animal's sides heaved and pulsed with its graceful galloping, the gash from Ezra's bullet was clearly visible. His mind racing, Ezra could only sense that the wolf was somehow leading him forward. Long after the Windigo's pounding and growling faded, man and animal sped on, linked in spirit by raw terror and the ancient instinct to survive. Whenever Ezra would slow to catch his breath, the wolf would turn back and impatiently beckon him onwards, imploring him with its expressive eyes.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Ezra finally collapsed. He lost consciousness where he fell, and when he awoke, it was dark. There was no sign of the black wolf, no sound or movement in the forest at all. The moon mutely rose over the unfamiliar land, illuminating what appeared to be the foundation of a huge man-made structure by the river.

Nowadays, we know that nascent edifice as Creekside Foundry, the oldest iron foundry in the state of Kansas. Completed by the Kimball brothers two years later in 1835, the factory would supply iron first to miners, then railroad workers and finally to soldiers in two World Wars before being decommissioned in the late 1960s. Creekside became one of the structural casualties of the great meteor shower of 1989--which was not, as many people assume, the first time fire has rained from the Kansas skies--and it has since served only as an illicit playground for Smallville's children, who risk life and limb running amongst the rows of tottering, weatherworn smelting vats.

In the barren base of what was to become Creekside Foundry, the exhausted Ezra improvised a makeshift shelter for the night, praying for daylight and fearing the nightmares that would surely come if he slept. The chase was over. But Ezra Small's ordeal had only begun.

Catch the conclusion of "Ezra Small and the Year It Rained Fire" in the Ledger's next regular issue in two weeks


BIZARRE CIRCUMSTANCES SURROUND DEATHS
OF TWO TEENS


By Angie Perez

Smallville High School experienced the tragic loss of two students within two days, and local authorities are baffled. The faculty and student body are stunned by the recent events. Seventeen-year-old Troy Turner, a senior at the school, died suddenly during swimming practice. Turner was considered one of the top swimmers in Kansas and appeared to be in perfect health. His untimely death shocked Coach Rick Varley, who was poolside when Turner collapsed. "I can't believe he's gone," said Varley. "He was a great swimmer, such a natural athlete and a fine kid."

Deputy Bobby Birdego questioned members of the school's janitorial staff regarding the chemicals they use to keep the pool clean. "Could be the kid reacted funny to the kind of chlorine they were using or something," he speculated. One witness asking to remain nameless said, "It was nasty, like his head and face turned into one gigantic raisin. He kind of looked like my mom's uncle Murray--and he's 75."

In a bizarre coincidence, teenager Russell Burton, a friend of Turner's, was found dead behind downtown Smallville's coffee shop The Talon. Burton's wizened face was completely unrecognizable. Officials made a preliminary identification of the 15-year-old by his school ID card, discovered in his pocket. "Maybe it was something in the coffee," commented Augustine Richardson, manager of The Beanery. "Lex Luthor owns that place--you never know."

Autopsy reports indicate that both teens did not die of the rapid-aging disease progeria as previously thought. The medical examiner has not issued an explanation as to why Turner and Burton expired but did state that their pituitary glands were completely drained.


LUTHORCORP ESTABLISHES CHILDREN'S FUND

By Gena McGuiness

At yesterday's press conference, LuthorCorp Chairman and CEO Lionel Luthor announced the formation of a new corporate charity--the LuthorCorp Children's Fund. Citing grim statistics on the number of children without health insurance or a nutritious breakfast, Luthor stated that "the LuthorCorp Children's Fund gives us the power to closely ensure that all of Smallville's kids are well looked after, especially those who are hospitalized or undergoing treatment for rare medical disorders." Luthor gave credit for the Fund to his new personal assistant, Martha Kent, and praised her influence on what seems to be a new LuthorCorp ideology. "At LuthorCorp, we recognize that it is our duty as corporate citizens to give back to the people who keep us in business. That is why everything we do is with the good of the community in mind," stated Luthor.

We here at The Ledger can't help but point out an interesting coincidence--the formation of the LuthorCorp Children's Fund and the ongoing state and federal investigation into the wrongdoing of Metron Pharmaceuticals, a subsidiary of LuthorCorp. Eight years ago Metron conducted improper medical trials on Smallville youths, six of whom died as a result. To this, LuthorCorp's director of public relations, Mitchell Taylor, could only say "no comment," but he was quick to promise an exciting announcement for the people of Smallville via the LuthorCorp web site three weeks from now.

The last time Lionel Luthor had an "exciting announcement" for the people of Smallville, Fertilizer Plant No. 3 closed.