Many of you know the world ended a few days ago. I have this posting on auto-pilot–you can do that. You write the post and then schedule a date for any time in the future. The world ended, just as the Mayans said it would. Fortunately for our our computers, we managed to get this story in under the deadline. Thanks to Terrie Leigh Relf (r.i.p) for submitting her contest entry into the Third Annual Victor Villasenor First Sentence Contest. For those of you who have submitted posthumously your stories will float in cyberspace up until December thirty first. Then the pre determined winner will have their heart ripped out and tossed down a pyramid.
by Terrie Leigh Relf.
It was mid-December, and well past time to go through mother’s things. . .
The boxes had been delivered over a week ago, with explicit instructions that they were all to open them together. No exceptions. Grady, Blaine, Sylvie, and Chloe sat on the cold living room floor staring at the stack of containers. It seemed as if their collective focus on the lids would wrench them off so no one needed to lift a hand. These boxes were all they had left of their mother, and the thought that she had packed and labeled them months before her disappearance was finally beginning to worm its way into their conscious minds as fact. Each and every one of them loved their mother with all her entertaining and oft annoying quirks, the least among them her insistence that she would be leaving prior to December 21, 2012, the official arrival—and departure—date for the so-called Mayan apocalypse.