Alex Preswick-Walcutt and his journey to Whateley Academy

[Sunday evening, Washington DC]

“Thank you for not being angry with me over all this,” said Jeff as he poured some wine.

The coffee shop's exterior wall provided a convenient prop as Nathan leaned against it, watching the steady stream of people moving along the sidewalk. His posture was deliberately casual, but there was nothing relaxed in the way his eyes tracked each passing figure. Three days since he'd last been on campus, and already the routines of normal life felt alien to him.

By Penny Lane and Iona Laing

CHAPTER 81
We landed in the afternoon, just after a rain squall had blown through; the place was a lot wetter than WA, that was clear. Maz had the window, and as we descended towards Changi, she was almost dancing in her seat, pointing out places that I couldn’t actually see, as Ish was already leaning over her for his view. I would just have to see it all from ground level.

“This was the military airfield originally, Mike. Alan’s Dad used to go to the beach here. There was a place called the South China Sea Club, but it was just palm thatched huts, a bar, a juke box and a local man cooking chips in a wok over a gas ring. On the floor. Such changes!”

Security Training Center Number 2:
Jake and Jessica look at the young fifteen-year-old teenage girl standing before them. She was wearing the black skintight outfit they had given her to wear. The suit had sensors built into it to monitor her vitals.

“Alright, Brandi. First, you’re going to stretch, so we can get a baseline on what your body is doing.” Jessica was standing near the monitors and already getting basic readings from the suit.

The time had crept up on me, a year earlier my wife and I had an argument about her outrageous salon charges for maintaining her hair style and appearance. Looking back the charges were not that excessive, but I was jealous of anything that took any funds from our joint bank account, money I wanted to spend on my desire to succeed at my job.

This is an AI-generated story and is a continuation of “Test Drive”.
I have kept edits to a minimum, making changes only when the AI would repeat phrases a bit too much.
(Only the Test Drive series will be written with AI assistance)

“Annnnnnnnd that’s £500, please,” Lil says with a smug grin, which widens as I sigh and hand her the pretend pink banknote. “Much obliged, Miss Williams!”

“Do NOT stuff that one down your bra, as I’m going to take it from you very soon!” Lydia teases, before rolling the dice and continuing our game of ‘Angels Monopoly.’

Today is day nine of our ‘incarceration’ in the Lincolnshire mansion, and the restlessness is already starting to kick in — hence why many of us have already resorted to Monopoly.

I was an assistant producer for a TV station, in Phoenix, Az. Deedra, my producer, and I were discussing a bit of information we had just learned about. It was still in the rumor stage, but if true might require us to delve into this mystery, since anything remotely connected to this would make for a great story locally, maybe even nationally.

The New One
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I had come home from the party early. Walt had been talking to some of his business buddies and I was bored.

“That’s okay, sweetie,” he said. “You go home and slip into something nice and I will be along shortly.”

“Seeing you. Dressed…. Like that…!”

Pete's Vagina
69. Swing
by Erin Halfelven

I was dropping off my wife at her beauty salon, a sudden need to use the bathroom causing me to go in with her, so I could use their facilities. It was sudden, like one minute everything was fine, the next I had to go real bad. It felt like I was leaking a little as I walked towards the restroom, trying to hold my legs together to keep from letting go. I paused at the door, both gender symbols displayed on the same door.

It was a strange time to be a peacekeeper of any kind, because it was a shameful kind of peace to preserve. Multiculturalism had failed; polite society had ceased and democracy had mutated into the exercise of force through strength in numbers.

I had taken the advice of a co-worker and made an appointment at a new salon in town for a haircut. My old male barber had retired, looking for other barbers in the yellow pages proved to be an effort in futility.

Realistically, I don’t think old time barbers even exist anymore. I had almost decided to settle on one of the chains for their special, even at $ 12.88 the price seemed ridiculous when I used to get a haircut for seven dollars at my old barbers. I know, I sound like a born cheap stake.