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Phone: (250) 960-5633 Fax: (250) 960-5407 E-mail: over-the-edge @ unbc.ca Evolution of a Soul By: Diane Hypolite For anyone who is reading this and knows William Blake’s poems fairly well, this story is based on his Songs of Experience, particularly ‘The Tiger’. Ever since the beginning of grade 12, I’ve been obsessing about the. man’s poetry because it man- aged to grab a hold some- where in my flighty, little, teenage heart. | won’t bother to tell you what it’s supposed to mean, because if you real- ly cared you’d go read it, then decide for yourself. If you’re too lazy to do even that, no worries, all is not lost! Read the story and see if you can find any crazy logic to Blake’s idea of the metamorphosis from innocence to experi- ence. Last night as | lay sleeping, | dreamt a strange thing. | was all alone walking down a gravel road with huge tall cedars on either side of me. The sky above me was black as smoke with no stars to be seen anywhere. | know | was frightened as the trees seemed to fairly lunge at me with their gnarled bows and there was this conscious feel- ing that | was not alone; that there were unseen pres- ences riding on the phantom wind. From where this wind came from | couldn’t say, as there were no clouds in the inky sky but it caused me to huddle down into myself with my shoulders hunched against that mysterious wind. The rocky path itself seemed to go on forever, never-end- ing as | slowly trudged one uncertain step after the other. It was to my relief that gradu- ally, although slowly, the road did end at a certain circle where in the midst of it burnt a most unnatural fire. | looked left, | looked right, but no one was present to indicate the origins of it. There was no sign that others had been here. But then from where came this fire? A closer look revealed it to be a most unnatural phenomenon. The flames flickered fiercely, hungrily consuming and at the base, a pile of rocks sat, all smooth and unchafed. Surely it was impossible for rocks to be tinder for the flames, wasn’t it? | stared hard at the flames trying to make sense of this strange moment to discover what had become of me. Surely, there was a place from which | came, people with whom | had ties, a life, which belonged to me, surely, there was reason for why. | was here in this most uncanny place. Nothing came to mind, however, and when my eyes once more traversed those grim cedars standing like sentry around myself | wept aloud, harsh, breaking sounds. | could not deal with those trees or the eyes of the faceless spirits. It seemed as if the very atmosphere sat in judgement, waiting. Suddenly, a flicker caught my eye. The fire drew my atten- tion once again and | stared forward into the flames. Shapes formed, grew, solidi- fied, then melted away again before | could comprehend their name. So | walked clos- er as one entranced, the for- gotten tears drying into dusty trails. | knelt down onto my hands and knees and crawled closer, ignoring the jeering scrapes of the rocks underneath. -The flames danced faster, jumping high- er, and closer still | came. | realized that there was a beat to the fire and that my heart indeed knew the because it leaped and wavered alternately, although with fear or exultation, | can’t say. Perhaps both. The heat grew but | resolutely pushed forward, determined, until | was close enough to touch. | strained so hard to see until rhythm | the flames gave a great roar and | could clearly define what they were. | went so close that the falling ashes fell onto my skin, charring my body. Closer and closer | crept, now crawling only min- imal increments. Suddenly the flames roared up high and engulfed my entire body. Screaming like someone possessed | backed away, but it was too late, | was over- taken, and quickly so. Then the night went black. That’s all folks at least for this episode, but Evolution of a Soul will continue on next week, when my brain is not too tired to function and | can actually make sense of what ’'m typing. HEY Gus LETS GSO REF sone NusTARoD GAS! Litta. Tiney's lost words. Three Lines Free The views expressed in this section are not those of Over The Edge. Some of us who are fortunate enough to drive to school would be happy to pick up walkers, providing they stick out their thumbs. To all the motorists out there, in case you have forgotten your manners and/or road sense remember for cyclists to A) SLOW DOWN and B) Share the road (move into the other lane, that’s what it is there for!). Not only is cycling. good for you it is good for the environment. Not everyone can afford to drive during the bus strike and there are not many feasible alternatives so please be considerate. Thanks Over The Edge welcomes all letters to the Editor and rs to print every submission. Submissions may be withheld and printed at a later date due to special restrictions. Over The Edge reserves the right to edit for spelling, grammar, or content and withhold, in whole or in part any Letter to the Editor. Anonymous letters will not be printed in any way shape or form. Send submissions to: Over The Edge, 3333 University Way, Prince George, BC V2N 4Z9 or E-mail: over-the-edge @ unbc.ca or Drop by our office across from the Wintergarden.