Origami Yoda and the Phantom Menace


A Secret to Kill For

By Jacob Minch

In the wet, cold, solitary confinement of my Juvie cell, past the sound of water dripping, was the patter of footsteps. Clop, clop. Click, clack. The sound came nearer. Clop, click. Clack, crunch.

“Master?” I called out, to which the shadowy figure replied;

“Yes, my student.” The Master’s shadowy form walked through the jail bars, to the inside of my cell.

“Are you here to break me out?” I asked, relieved that my master had given me a second chance.

“No second chance, this time.” The Master said, holding out the original Emperor Papertine, which had been in The Master’s care since the Death Shredder incident.

“Wait. . .” I questioned, “what are you-?!”

The Master held the paper in both hands, preparing to make the one movement that would mean the end of me.

“No!” I yelled, running towards the figure, in a frantic scramble.


Chapter 1: Enter the Second Prophecy

By Aragorn Paris

“Hey guys!  The circus is coming to town!” said Xarl.

 Everyone crowed around a poster. It said:


    You’ll see amazing trapeze artists, terrifying lions, and funny clowns!
                           It’s fun for the whole family!
               So don’t miss out on these amazing shows!
“That looks awesome!” said Tommy, “Maybe we could all go together!”
“Sounds like a plan!” said Malcolm. Everyone agreed they should go together.
“Hey Dwight, what do you think?” Tommy said.
I tilted my head to speak with Dwight, only to see him staring blankly into space, his eyes a glossy white.
“Um… Dwight?  Are you okay?” asked Sara.
Dwight didn’t answer. Instead, he took Origami Yoda out of his pocket and stuck it right in front of us.
“Arrived, a new danger has…  returning, old friends are.  Revealed, an evil master shall be… and an ultimate hero, named, will be.”
A few moments of silence followed, until Kellen broke the silence.
“So…does that mean you don’t want to go to the circus?” asked Kellen.
Dwight smiled, “Of course not!  I love the circus!”
Everybody laughed, relieved. That was the last time we laughed about anything for a long, long time. . .

Chapter 2: Andy’s Circus
By Aragorn Paris

Here’s the thing about Andy’s Circus: Nothing.

There was nothing at all fun in this circus.

“What a piece of junk!” Peyton said.

I was walking into the tent door, waiting to be greeted by a clown or something, when I was startled to find that the area was practically abandoned!
I blinked. Maybe my glasses had been fogged up or something. Nope, this was really everything. My eyes darted around, and caught sight of a couple of trapeze, rustic and not working, dust collecting on the eroded wires; a briefcase, which was filled with unused clown makeup; and a kid, not much older than me, jumping on a trampoline. (Was that the ONLY thing there?)

The kid was good. He leaped up and down like a maniac, and, when his eyes found mine, he jumped off the trampoline, over my head, and landed on the hard ground next to me, unfazed. He spun around, facing me and the other Fellowship members.

“Hello, there!” he said, addressing us. His gaze turned to Frankie. “And hello, beautiful.”

Frankie blushed, and I just about puked.

“Anyway,” the kid started, “name’s Andy!”

My eyes widened. “Andy? Like, the owner of this place, Andy?! But you’re a–”

“A kid?” Andy challenged, with a snarl.

“Well, I-I mean-” I choked out. This guy was good.

Andy walked over to me, looking me right in the eye. He was a tall kid, maybe five foot nine. His eyes glowed a sickening pale green. His hair was in as much of a mess as Dwight’s, but he didn’t seem to care. His presence was menacing, and I resisted the urge to run out of there, screaming for my mommy. That is, if I still had a mommy.

“Look, bro,” Andy said, to me, “You wanna fight this fight, or you wanna let it go?”

I knew that now was a good time to back down.

Stupid instincts.

“What? Your family left you to run the circus, and you totally messed up on it?! Why the heck is this place such a dump?”

Andy growled. Like, he seriously growled, like a tiger.

He pounced, pinning me to the ground. I could feel his breath on my ears when he whispered; “Don’t test me, boy. I’ve been through more than you’d ever know.”

“Oh really?” I got smart again, “Well, let’s see if you can beat me!”

“I lost this circus to a jerk landlord,” Andy started.

“I lost my life’s work of magic tricks thanks to a flood in my house,” I countered.

“I’ve been living for three and a half years alone!” Andy continued, a hint of strain in his voice.

“I’ve been forced to live with my sister Margaret for thirteen years!” I said, my voice rising to a yell.


“I LOST MY MOM TO A STUPID CAR WRECK!!!” I screamed at an equally hurt tone.

We were stumped. Tears were streaming from our eyes. We slumped down to the ground, and the Fellowship members walked over to me, to comfort me.
I glanced at Andy, who wasn’t being comforted by anybody. He was alone. And he’d been alone, for far too long.

“Andy,” I said, wiping away my tears, “would you join our Fellowship? We like to help out kids who are misunderstood, and we think this may be the perfect place for you.”

Andy dried his tears, and slowly started to smile.

“Really?” he said, “No joke?”

“No joke.”

Andy slowly got up. Sam and Peter walked over to him, and helped him over to us. We began the coronation ceremony of our new member: Andy Johansson, wielder of Origami King Théoden.

Chapter 5: An Average Evening

By Aragorn Paris

My last evening before I was visited by a ghost started like this:

I walked inside the house, scraping the mud off my shoes onto the doormat, kicked my shoes under the coat rack, and walked into the kitchen.

Sean was sitting there, happily eating a chocolate chip cookie.

 “Hi, Larry!” Sean said, some milk dribbling down his chin. Nobody calls me Larry, or at least, not after Mom died. She always called me Larry. Lawrence Timothy Paris, that’s my name, but once I came to Tolkien Middle School, I realized that if all the students liked Lord of the Rings, then I should have a new nickname, and Aragorn Paris was born.

I walked from the kitchen to my room, which was on the main floor, as opposed to Margaret, who’s room was upstairs, next to Sean’s room. I drew the short straw, and what a short one it was.

My room was pretty rundown, since it used to be my dad’s man-cave. The distinct scent of sweat and beer danced through the air, making me sick. My dad is a great guy, but before the accident, he was at a really low point in his life. I expected the accident to make him plummet to his doom, but instead, the accident kind of opened his eyes, and he started to become the Dad that I know and love. He started watching me, Margaret, and Sean, and became an all-around better person.

I sat down in my beanbag chair, allowing myself to relax. Sam told me I was too tense all the time, and that I should relax once in a while. I’m trying my best, but I can never shake the feeling that I’m being watched. . .

As I was about to slip into a nice midsummer’s nap, I was awakened by the sound of squealing.

“Margaret?” I called, “What are you doing up there?”

For a moment, no reply. Then, the sound of glass shattering.

“Margaret?!?” I called, my voice cracking. I decided to get up and check on her.

I walked up the small stairway, and turned right, into Margaret’s room.

Margaret pulled the tallest straw.

Her room was covered in Twilight posters, a cardboard cutout of Justin Bieber, and a big life-sized poster of Thorin Oakenshield from The Hobbit, but she really only cared about his “hot” voice. Uggh.

Her carpet was well-vacuumed, and it always looked like someone sprinkled pixie dust on it. Yes, it was THAT sparkly.

Margaret, however, looked like a mess. Her auburn hair, usually glowing with pink highlights, went from long and curly to messed up and musty. I think there was a comb stuck in it.

“Oh, hey Aragorn!” she said, waving at me nervously.

“Hi Margaret,” I started, in a patient tone, “exactly WHAT are you doing?”

She was holding a cat in her arms. It’s fur seemed to glow gold.

“I was showing Galadriel her new room!” Margaret said, holding up the furry menace and motioning towards the corner. There was already a sign on it that said, “Galadriel, the cutest kitten in all four farthings of Virginia!”

“Margaret, why-”

“Why am I helping out a stray cat?” she interrupted me, “Because she was alone, and being attacked by a huge dog! I had to throw your Origami Aragorn at it to get it to leave, but I saved this little cutie! I named her-”

“Galadriel,” I said, finally interrupting her for the first time in my life, “you named her that because she’s so ‘pretty,’ right?”

“Exactly!” Margaret didn’t even seem fazed when I interrupted her. “Oh, and Aragorn?”

I tilted my head.

“Could you please not tell Dad?” she said, “I want it to be a surprise!”

“Sure, sis, sure. . .” I said, walking out of her room, only to hear another piece of glass break. Probably a plate.

“And will you PLEASE tell your new pet to stop destroying our dishes?!” I exclaimed, walking back to my room.


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