Words by Grace E Hall

Stevensons Centre for Aeronautics and Other Research was a short, rectangular building at the end of Regent Square, made of grey brick, and inset with several dusty windows; the classic iron railing leading around the front porch was speckled with moss and lichen. The door was slightly crooked, and one window was hanging open, admitting a trickle of greentinged smoke. An air of originality hung about the place, for the flowerbed alongside the porch held not the ever present primly ordered pansies but was instead a wild tangle of sunflowers and weeds.   At about noon on an overcast Wednesday, a black automobile pulled up next to the door and Jennings steped outside, giving the mossy railing an apprehensive look. He had never been to the Centre, and had expected to find a neatly wood paneled room inside, with a desk thoroughly adorned with placid business cards, and two hard floral chairs that smelled like perfume, as one would expect going into any other building on Regent S...

Note: This is part one of a story that will hopefully only have two parts.  I'm sorry I didn't get it all done this week. Thank you for reading! -- Regent Square was a respectable sort of  neighborhood generally made up of tall, monotone grey brick buildings with iron railings and stiff ceramic pots filled with maroon and yellow pansies, with grey signs sticking out above the door saying things like, “Marks Lawyers and Co.” and “Department Administrators Reliability.” A very old black automobile sat in a corner lot under the notice “Jennings and Representatives, CEO,” next to a particularly starched-looking facade, over which a corrugated tin roof presided, giving it a truly respectable air; even though its inevitable pansy pot was drooping alarmingly. Over the one, flat concrete step leading up to the door a gilt-edged rug, shabby with age, was draped, and its tassel-adorned edges, though dirty, gave an exotic impression; in its younger days it had been a parlor-rug, from ...

It was hard to say exactly what happened next. It felt as though the contraption hesitated on the brink of a slope, creaked forward, and went rushing down into the darkness of the tunnel with a clanging and clattering of metal that echoed round the walls. The air smelled thickly of dust and age. Speed pushed the contraption forward as it went tipping down and down, further and further— Jingle became aware that Gary was grabbing her arm and shouting over the clamor, “ You have to stop it Jingle were going away—” “I don't know how!” said Jingle, staring at him. “But you started it—” “I didn't . . . Did I?”  Gary brushed past her and shoved the iron protrusion back into its original placement. However, their rapid downward movement didn't change.  Jingle held tight to the wall for balance as a shocking thought struck her. “We left Beach!” The carriage gave a bang and jolted to one side, nearly unbalancing them both. She planted her feet firmly on the swaying floor as Gary...