Kacy is 15. She has long, controlled, brown hair that stretches to her hips, and deep, innocent hazel eyes. She lives in a nice house, in a nice street, in a nice estate with her wealthy but secretive mother. Their house was large and modern, with 12 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, 2 sitting rooms, a maids hall and a huge kitchen where all of the personal chefs worked. Her house was pretty much the same as all of the other houses in the street, except for the fact that Kacy’s house had an extra room that stuck uglily out of the side of one of the walls. It was a small room belonging to her mother as her study and Kacy was strictly forbidden to enter. That was where mother went when her letters were delivered.
There was a quiet thud as the letter hit the floor. It was a very important looking letter. It had a sense to it as if it were someone’s letter to be the next Queen of England. It had a neat, red, wax seal and was in a plain, white envelope. Kacy glared down at it. She had seen many letters like this before: delivered every Thursday evening at exactly the same time every week. Midnight. Kacy’s mother was very protective over these letters and collected them every week no more than two or three minutes after it had been delivered. Any time Kacy was caught around these suspicious letters, she would be told to go stick her nose in someone else’s business. But not today.
Mother had not returned from her outing today. She had not told Kacy where she was going, or when she would return, nor did she any day. But usually she returned to recieve the letter. This was puzzling. Kacy stared at the professional looking letter on the mat. Where was mother? Except for Marissa the maid who was cleaning the dining hall, she was alone. Surely it wouldn't matter if she took a tiny peak at what it said? She had always been curious, and she never really trusted what mother was doing with the letter anyway. What if they weren't even for her? What if they were for Kacy?