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Author: athcreative

athcreative
My name is Kelsey Crosby, and to give a disappointing answer that burning question, no, I am not related to Sidney. I grew up in a small community in Nova Scotia called Lake Echo dancing, paddling, and Girl Scouting my way through my childhood (although I usually played hooky at the latter). I am a third year English major here at Acadia and I am the Creative Section Editor for the Ath this year. This means I want to be a part of getting your drawings, poetry, short stories, music or anything else creative published! Whenever you get a burst of creativity you just have to show the people of Wolfville, I am easy to track down and more than willing to grab coffee and talk about how to display your work. If you have any nerves about people seeing your creations, or have no idea how to get started, I am completely open to working together to make sure you are able to comfortably become part of your school’s newspaper, because remember, this is your paper too! One of my favourite things about myself is that I am a creative person, as I love to express myself through colours and words. I had a love for reading and writing at a very early age and plan to feed that passion in my future by publishing my own novels and collections. I typically write mysterious, suspenseful, and twisted short stories, and I am also one of those ‘weirdos’ who actually enjoys the process of essay writing. I look forward to working alongside the other section editors of the Ath and the rest of Acadia’s student body this year, and I can’t wait to see what kind of creative juice the Axemen and Axewomen have to show off!

Infidelity

I am not falling. I am not still. I am fabricated by false realities Your lies settle beneath the surface, under my skin. My heart is peeled, sliced into...

Silence in 40 Seconds

In 2014 the World Health Organization stated there are approximately 800,000 people who successfully commit suicide per year. If you do the math, this checks out to...

Talking Trees

Huddled close, branches buzz Gnarled grandmothers gossiping Wrinkled...

Untitled

Whenever I tune my guitar, You. Whenever I look at the stars, You, My...

The Lecturer

You collected our eyelashes in jars Hoarding our stolen wishes for...

Intricate Language

This is not a poem. This is my acknowledgement that a problem exists within...

Free

Your fingertips trace the line of my spine and I shiver with an unexplainable,...

Desire

So that’s what it feels like to completely stop . . . And think for just...

Swimming Lessons

I do not know how to put the happy back in my head how to stop the...

Here Lies Caesar and His Men: Worshipped, Lost, Magnificent, Doomed; Homesick but not Forgotten

All this happened both forever ago and about a half a second since, in a...