Here are some recommendations, from holiday markets to support local artists to UBC's own polar plunge.
Chi is not simply a good vegan restaurant, it is a good restaurant.
“Thank you for teaching me I can write through anything,” read the message in the guestbook at poet Rupi Kaur's November 25 reading in at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver.
The book club brings together a community of avid readers at UBC, meeting monthly to discuss pre-selected books, and connecting online to share their favourite reads.
In my house, we celebrate the Day of the Dead on November 2 by making bread, which we call bread of the dead. We make ofrendas, of course, and even dress up as vampires and ghosts as if it were Halloween, but the bread was the main ritual.
Would you believe me if I told you that I had experienced spiritual wonders — spellwork, divination, the casting and removal of curses? What if I told you that I gained insight into past lives and karmic tolls, and that it all happened in the living room of my grandfather’s house?
John Carpenter’s 1994 film In the Mouth of Madness is not a very good horror film.
From the ghostly image of a young woman’s pale face to its haunting dialogue, Ana Lily Amirpour’s 2014 film A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is striking
With only one night to haunt, I knew exactly where I was headed.
The library was eerily quiet that night as I entered with my Starbucks drink in hand. There were no sounds of keyboards tapping, no pencils scraping against paper, no quiet sniffles coming from students. The place was abandoned.
The problem was that the horror from the books bled into my real life.
I can feel them crawling underneath my duvet, traveling up my legs, over my torso and into my mouth.
In some households, Christmas was the holiday to await, advent calendar counting down the days, chocolatey treats eaten in anticipation. But for mine, it was Halloween.
The lights flicker and I hear the call end. That simple, really. Just a little bit of rain and suddenly the whole city’s wiring is failing. It reminds me of a macro cosmic motherboard gone wrong.
Reaching down to pause her music, she stopped. The road was now unpaved, and her step cracked in the rocky dust.
Students have reported that during their lectures, they would see a dark, cloaked spectre with a Jack-o-Lantern head passing behind professors and a few other students.
She was so ill that she hardly noticed when her coworkers stopped partying around her. Shrieks of drunken laughter turned into panicked screams and a splash as her boss fell overboard.
When I turned around, she looked incredibly startled. I was somewhat confused about why she was acting so oddly, suddenly she uttered words that caught me off guard;
I flipped the page, expecting to read about a winding staircase leading to an underground dungeon, or maybe to a secret lair, but instead, I felt my head start to dip towards my chest and my eyes beginning to shut.