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Over The Edge

Rain in January

Posted by on Jan 26, 2017 in Arts, Student Life | 0 comments

Tierney Watkinson | Team Member things I used to believe were impossible like rain in January winter water freezing becoming ice a deadly mirror taking over making me invisible crumbling slowly ripping apart as I try to remember warmth bones splitting beneath my skin burning even as I succumb to numbing cold ripping deep wounds caverns within me forcing cracks within myself straining under weights I should not have to bear this self doubt and its iron claws slowly tearing out my insides what once kept me alive pulsing pouring out as I am paralyzed I think I stopped screaming a long time ago but maybe I’ve just stopped hearing...

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Changes

Posted by on Jan 26, 2017 in Arts, Poetry | 0 comments

Sarah Green| Contributor The air is crisp As he walks through the clearing. It’s too late. No one can stop him. His strides show purpose. He moves towards the group Standing clustered around the fire. A few faces turn As he walks towards the smallest figure. She stands slightly apart. Obviously waiting for him. He draws a breath. This is it. When she sees him, Her amber eyes light up. For a moment, He falters. Disarmed by her beauty. But it’s too late to change his mind. He takes a step forward, Clears his throat, And changes his life...

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Young Frankenstein

Posted by on Jan 26, 2017 in Arts, Culture, UNBC | 0 comments

Tierney Watkinson | Team Member You can stop holding your breath now— the show dates for “The Mel Brooks Musical: Young Frankenstein” have been set! This year, the Musical Productions Club is returning to the Canfor studio at UNBC. Shows run from March 16th through 18th, and March 23rd through 25th. Mark it on your calendars! Each of these days will have an evening show, at 7:00pm. An additional matinee will be presented both Saturdays, at 1:00pm. Tickets will be sold in the Winter Garden closer to the show date. Prices are 10$ for students and 15$ for the general public. The production is relatively kid-friendly. That being said, you may have to answer a few questions afterwards, courtesy of your kids, should you bring them along to watch the show. There are no scripted curse words in this play (no...

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Northern Living

Posted by on Nov 16, 2016 in Arts, Culture | 0 comments

Katie Hansen | Contributor   The Northern Folk can smell the snow today. It’s time to gather up the winter gear; They pull out their shovels to get ready. The Children are delighted snow is near!   The first of the white flakes begins to fall; Northern Folk rush to get their snow tires on. Frosty the Snowman is up standing tall. All signs of living vegetation, gone.   More than six months of winter is too long! They wish for the warmth and the summer fun! The cold weather does not seem to belong; Why can’t this frozen season be all done?   When winter ends the Northern Folks will say, I hope next year the snow does not...

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Doll

Posted by on Nov 16, 2016 in Arts, Culture | 0 comments

Sam Wall | News Editor   my gums sliced and sewn back together write instead of speak or eat slamming a truck over my face again and again, somehow still unbroken, porcelain head numb   muscles struck by weakness limbs betraying synapses brain signals cut short spinal cord collapsing solidification of bone   a pile of flesh slowed by lethargy my skin begins to wither shrink, dried up and leather eyes blurry as morning fog   eyelid crash to eyelid lashes like cracks across my cheeks body devoid of moisture but tears all lost in vomit dry mouth aching   for a drink, for a pill; pain pain go away come again another way   I am set upon a shelf with all the other...

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The Beast

Posted by on Nov 16, 2016 in Arts | 0 comments

Sarah Green | Contributor The night was cold and merciless. Wind tore through her flowing crimson hair. She could not stop. The footsteps got louder, Echoing through the woods. Darkness closed in around her frail form. Her head turned against her will As her eyes sought the beast. Branches clawed at her arms. Blood ran in ribbons past her wrists. She tripped on a concealed root, Tumbling to the ground. One cry escaped her throat Before it was too...

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