A Preference for Haggis
“Dougal wait! Yer da said we’re not supposed to play on Ben Binn. The fairies won’t like it!” Hamish sprinted after his cousin, the evening air nipping at his face.
“Don’t tell me ya believe in all that
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The Lavender Lady
Rain pattered against the roof of the double-decker theatre. Inside, fairy lights twinkled like fireflies, woven between artificial leaves of the trees that made Toronto’s Winter Garden Theatre unique. It resembled a fairy tale—but only if the man in front of me was the villain.
“You’re
Super Gus, Thou Art Doomed!
The best way to stop a museum heist is to get stolen yourself.
In the darkness of the shipping crate, I wait amid packing peanuts and the four-by-six oaken-framed masterpiece that da Vinci painted with his left hand while using his right for a certain other work.
A shaft of light pierces the gloom as a crowbar pries off one of the top slats,
Dreaming Spires
With my American sense of direction and independence, I’d thought I could make it from my boarding house to the dreaming spires and spinning cogs of Oxford University without help. But I’d been wandering the crooked, twisting streets for hours now. A distant clock tower, hidden behind thick swathes of fog, struck noon with a melodic mix of bells and whistles.
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