52 weeks

It didn’t happen exactly the way we all thought it would; the rapture, that is. It was a Thursday, 2041, and 75% percent of the world’s population was gone.

The Cardboard Prince Sylvie “Must I scrub the floors too?” said Sylvie with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Perhaps you would like to throw lentils into the fireplace, and have me pick them out for you?” “Sylvie, it’s just the dishes. And it’s your turn.” Sylvie sighed the all too familiar, all too dramatic…

A Winchester .44-40 rifle sits in that box, lever action. He caresses it as he has never been caressed. The steel barrel is old but clean.

The fog swirls around my feet as I walk along the edge of the lake. There are shadows. It has been many years since I have seen the shores of home, Avalon.

We decided this year to take on a challenge; 52 weeks, 52 short stories. This week, my friend Bridgette and I, begin a journey of words and ideas.