Observe Wretches This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

April 23, 2010
By , Louisvile, CO
In the mammoth-sized ocean positioned a diminutive isle by the name Jarca. A small country who owned the title of ‘Best Economy’, but still highly unknown by the rest of the world. Castles dominate the island, the origin of circa 1200. The island of Jarca is, in any archaeologist’s words, a dreamer’s paradise. Sparkly wet cobwebs draped over the towering trees. A vast canopy of stars blanketed the skies. Drops of water showered the land as if it was sprinkles and the land was a giant cookie, waiting to be decorated. Waves roared, crashing against the sharp rocks with a thunderous boom. The natives of the island were proud to call it their land.

However, on the night of September 28th, something happened that eclipsed the natural beauties.

The gleaming eyes that seemed catlike and evil were too conspicuous and hard to miss. Yet, the Royal Lookout was too dim-witted to actually miss this woman. With her long legs, and richly defined features, people can spot her from miles away and know her name. But, nobody knew her name. That remained one of the mysteries on Earth.

She prowled and roamed silently near the Palace, imitating a cheetah aiming for its prey. Her long spiderlike legs hit the pavement with such grace; it was as silent as a feather stroking the ground. After sprinting near the Palace, she did the unthinkable.

She diverted the attention to herself. Realizing her mistake, she dove into a bush swathed with roses of all colors, beeping emerged. A crackly voice soon followed.

“Did you get her?”

She dug into her pocket, angered by her foolish assistant’s nerve to actually call her while on a mission. What if she had been found and this island endorsed immediate execution? “Not yet. Do not call me until I press the button.”

The radiant moonlight reflected on the burnished cell phone, the symbol of a crown and the initials GS, representing their bunch of criminals, beaming. Her heart pounded harder by the second as she stared at the glossy sticker. The tattoo located on her arm throbbed more than usual. Was she actually doing this?

She shook the funnel of doubting thoughts. This mission lived to be her top priority. Afterwards, she lunged out of the shrub, committing a series of cartwheels and flips she had acquired from a long career. Deciding on the spur of the moment, she ceased to move. She immediately contacted her boss.

“Yes?” The dark and smoky voice boomed from the other line. “Sir, it’s me.” A long pause occurred long enough to cause. “Shouldn’t you…”

“I know. But there are guards all over the place.” She lied convincingly, a skill she had earned years ago. Only six guards bordered the Palace. “Distract them. Throw a rock at a pile of twigs and they will get alarmed, if there are still people, knock them unconscious.” The line became utterly dead much to her dismay. Inhaling and exhaling, the smell of coconuts watered her eyes.

She entered the majestic castle. A peaceful aura of the house made her shift uncomfortably. Abruptly, loud music drowned all noise from a radius of approximately ten miles from the castle. It appeared to be rock music, something that she used listen to just three years ago. Imitate a cougar. Kidnap quietly.

As she crept into the room of the Athene, after stepping in, she tackled the frail and scrawny brunette princess. Screeching of the princess obscured the loud metallic sound of Alice of the Underworld, a band. Officially, the beautiful princess of Jarca was under her captive. She caged her inside of her arms, attempting to write a letter. A line dashed across the letter due to an impulsive budge by Athene.

Athene Rue has been taken. You will not see her again until you surrender Prime Minister Scour. If you do not contact us within two weeks, we guarantee that your daughter will go in an awful place.

The woman kicked the window with such force, the princess assumed it were gunshots. After escaping the gorgeous sanctuary, they galloped into the night.

The name of this woman is Lorna Todd.

Define Lorna Todd: sly, villain, misunderstood, murky, slimy, sneaky, manipulative, and relatively innocent.


In one hand, clutched a rifle, in the other, grasped her math homework. That was usually the life of Charlotte Kieffer.

That’s what happens when you pursue the career as a World-Class agent for the O.W agency. When Charlotte had accepted the offer of the man in the tux on her doorstep, she thought of these extravagant adventures, stretching from the urban city of Tokyo to the rural Scotland. Unfortunately, the résumé of Charlotte continued on to survive blank. In Charlotte’s mind, if she kept on coaching herself, Chief Doodad would appoint her in a mission.

OW was the type of agency that put the CIA and MI6 in shame.

OW was an organization, who protected the nation from malevolence. Everything in OW’s power, do they try to spread benevolence. The only catch? They only accept teenagers into the family. Anyone older than the age of 19, was either recommended to the agency of their choice, or was downgraded into jobs such as secretaries or inventors. Charlotte’s parents were one of them. Gretel Goldschmidt and Bruno Kieffer, teens for the German Wing of OW, happened to transfer to the American Wing. Both were the only ones in the whole office who could not even articulate one word in English. Years later, at the age of 23, Gretel bore twins Violet and Charlotte while on a mission. Thus, created the law of 19 and under in OW.
Violet, the name echoed in Charlotte’s brain. The personality of Violet Verdi Kieffer and Charlotte Ophelia Kieffer mixed and diverse; even though their appearance squealed, indistinguishable. The only life that Violet can ever achieve would be a street beggar. Violet is one of those types of girls who follow every single trend; pettily partying at night clubs to rebelling against their elders. If you bet Charlotte that Violet is studying in the library, you would probably lose all your belongings. Basically, Violet was labeled, the popular girl. Or, as Charlotte’s friends like to call, The Barbie. Every girl wanted to be Violet. Every single one.
Abruptly, the music blasting from hot pink ear buds that were smashed into Charlotte’s ears drowned, divulging Jude Lennon’s deep voice. Like Charlotte, Jude was a Top-Notch agent, eager for the first assignment. Also, similar to Gretel and Bruno, Jude emigrated the British Wing and into the American Wing as well. The fact that he was the most dangerous spy (like Charlotte), intelligent, and British, the spies in the lower class hailed him, obsessed over him, and countless of other things. One day, when strutting, Charlotte eavesdropped on a couple of girls, swooning over Jude Lennon.
“Who does he like?”
“I bet he likes the Princess of Bulgaria!”
“I know! I mean, like, the princess was like, totally, like, going to engage him!”
This irritated Charlotte so much; that this drove her to make public Jude’s little crush. “Ha! And you are spies?” The clique of girls sneered at her, the lanky one responding with an edgy, “And you’re better than us?” Normally, this would have raged Charlotte, but since she was about to crush their arrogant confidence, she simply let go. “He likes my twin sister.”
“Oh, and she is prettier than us?” For proof, Charlotte whipped out her wallet, shuffling through credit cards, fake I.Ds, and a number of horoscopes. She provided them a photograph of Violet. After receiving the portrait, the girls’ mouths hung open. Violet Kieffer, according to all and sundry of the Packard County, Violet enclosed the gift of beauty. Her lengthy honey blonde hair stylishly arranged into a sloppy yet refined and polished way; her royal blue eyes spread emerald green specks around the iris. A perfect J-shaped nose was planted smack-dab of her face.
“How is she related to you?” The short and stubby one screeched. Unlike Violet, Charlotte generated with greasy blood red hair, tangled. Her lips were not glossed, and she didn’t splatter her face with makeup. Plus, her features looked a bit more…squashed and her face was wider. Yet, no one noticed.
The flashback was soon interrupted by Jude once again.
“Charlotte, you have a visitor in your office.” It took Charlotte three minutes to shoot the target until she obeyed Jude.


The dreary outlay of Mrs. Agyness Todd’s classroom subsisted to be the anguish of all students who settled on to take American History. Yet, as if totally oblivious to the torture she was inflicting on to the students, Mrs. Todd droned on, and dragged her chalk against the olive green chalkboard, causing squeaking noises to be materialized.

Uninterestedly, Violet tapped her pencil against the hard marble desk, fighting the urge to yawn in front of Mrs. Todd’s face. How absolutely boring can Mrs. Todd get? Complimenting her fatigue, lifeless rain poured against the ceiling, causing Violet’s eyes to grow heavy. She peeked with the corner of her eye, blocked by Jude Lennon, who smiled at her nonstop. In reaction, Violet drew her notebook closer, smiling meekly. She didn’t want to trigger any more rumors. Nothing sparked between them. Absolutely nothing.

“Your homework today is to write an essay on the assassination of John Lennon.”

Jude Lennon raised his hand. Mrs. Todd grunted, and then snottily spat, “What, Lennon?” The whole class erupted with a series of snickers. To the class, it was like saying Jude got killed.

“What exactly does John Lennon have to do with American history?” His British accent came out slightly stronger than usual. “It took place in New York.” She took a swig of water and gulped it. Jude rolled his emerald green eyes.

Right in time, the bell rang. Everyone shuffled their papers in perfect unison and scrambled out, eager to get out of school. As Violet picked up her pinkish hued colored binders, she fumbled; the binder plummeted to the ground. After squatting down, her eyes met some pale blue Converse.

“Need some help?” Jude crouched to her side, picked up her mess. Violet struggled to keep her pale hands away from his.

After finishing, Jude met her eyes; Violet looked away. “So, my mum is celebrating Rabies day—” He blushed fiercely, “And, I thought you might…like to go with me?” His eyebrow started to collect a few beads of sweat like Violet’s did. Violet couldn’t exactly refuse, as her mother is friends with his mother, but she didn’t want to be automatically be labeled as Jude’s girlfriend.

She laughed hysterically, and then pranced out of the room, guilt roamed her insides. In her heart, she wanted to accept his offer.


Slushy ice managed to melt in her fringed boots. No matter, she trekked along the edges of Clearwater High, and managed to out-walk Jude by twenty feet. She pictured Jude in her brain, which chased after her in a time period of three years.

It’s not like Violet wasn’t attracted to Jude; actually, she was quite fond of him. But with the gossip out of control, it can make it look like Jude threatened her to like him back. Sometimes, his mop of coffee brown hair and large green eyes made Violet forget about everything.

“Why did you wear those boots?” Jude yelled, his voice sinking all other noise.

Violet didn’t bother respond. Instead she whipped out her cell phone, and texted Charlotte. Charlotte was her geeky twin sister who was the exact opposite of Violet. Unlike Violet, Charlotte dyed her hair frequently. Yesterday after studying in the library, she automatically decided to dye it a honey blonde that freakishly resembled Violet’s.

Charlotte and Violet loathed each other. Simple as that.

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