“Oh my gosh, are we going to die?” Peace asked.
“Your mother said it isn’t going to happen!” shouted Dad, appearing nervous.
“Is this the thing with the Mayan calendar?” I asked, “Mayans are very intelligent and are never wrong. If they said the world was going to end, they would certainly be correct!”
Peace looked at me with incredulous blue eyes.
“I think the Bible says that you won’t know the day or the hour!” she said.
“So? As if the bible is right about everything?” I yelped.
“Yeah, it is!” Peace shouted.
“Holy roller!” I screamed in annoyance.
Dad screamed, “Shut up!"
“Fred, calm down,” Mom murmured, holding Dad's arm, “Children can be very excited about this kind of thing. It can really worry them.”
I shook my head, amazed that my parents didn't believe. My entire life, I'd spent a lot of time reading history books and reading about the ancient Mayans. How could they be wrong? The calendar ended there.
“You see, girls, I don’t believe the world can ever end. It goes on and on because there is no way anything really can exist or not exist. Asking if the world exists is like asking how many monks it takes to put in a light bulb. The answer is one and not one. The world exists and not exists,” Mom lectured.
“Please Mom. I happen to know that’s a crock of bull!” I said sarcastically. By then we were pulling into the driveway.
“Why is it a crock of bull, Star?” Dad asked, looking cold.
“Because…because…I don’t know but it just seems like every principle I’ve been taught turns away from my life. Nothing really holds true for me!” I said, tears in my eyes, “The world is ending. I feel it in my blood. The animals are not flourishing as they used to. Everything is ending. Everything is going to sleep. The Earth is dying.” I looked outside at the bleak, cold landscape outside our small, cold Virginia home.
“Well, you know, maybe it is all coming to an end. Whatever will be will be!” Mom said, quoting an old song.
We all got out of the car and walked inside of the drab white house. I tossed my keys on the kitchen table and crawled onto my bed. Then I heard something pushed through the mail slot. I got up to check it, hoping for a letter. Instead, I found only one parce. It was something from NASA. I was about to call my mom when I saw to whom it was addressed. The name on the envelope was mine. I read it over again. Yes, Star Arusta was the name imprinted upon the envelope. Why would NASA be sending me a letter? Why, they could not even know I exist. I slowly walked into the kitchen, and grabbed the letter opener. I sat down on my disk chair, my prized possession. Upon pulling out the letter, I read:
A select group of young individuals has been chosen to live on a special space station where they can survive the events of the Niburu fly by. On December 21, 2012, there will be a polar shift that will cause unimaginable effects to the Earth. Twenty selected persons between the ages of 2 and 30 have been chosen to live upon a ship. These people alone will live through the effects of the flyby. These people are only the most talented people in the world; these people can make our new world complete. You, Star Arusta, are one of the people who have been chosen to leave your family and survive. Please remember, if you stay on Earth, you will not live. If we do not receive your response by telephone before 10:00 P.M tomorrow, we will renegotiate and get another person to fill the spot.
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