Who Are You?
Introducing Me*
There are things worse than death. I'm proof. It all started when my brother disappeared one day. We'd been very, very poor, living on roots and berries and whatever we could scrounge together. Until the day my brother disappeared.
Then we had stew.
Now, my brother was a pretty good kid. I looked up to him, in the way that all five-feet tall little sisters look up to their big brothers who loom a foot taller than they do. My brother was usually pretty nice to me, actually. Worst thing I could say about him was that he was a lousy shot when it came to hunting, and Ma was always going on about what a lousy shot he was and moaning about why he couldn't be like her, a prize-winning gunslinger.
He was good at fishing, though, and he wore cool sandals.
And I didn't like the chain he wore around his neck, the one with the crown of thorns pendant on it. But that seemed like such a little thing to complain about.
Ma said something about him going away to get a job as a carpenter and helping us with some money and to eat up, but I lost my appetite when I bit down on metal, tasted blood and pulled the crown of thorns out of my mouth.
Somehow, something about that stew just didn't sit right. I had bad indigestion.
Then things really started to get weird. I could see my brother. Not in my head, like in my imagination, but in rooms, on chairs, on rocks outside, walking down the road. Except he was two-dimensional and appeared in shades of gray.
Then it wasn't just my brother I could see, but my Pa, who'd died the year before, and my best friend Farren, who disappeared the day before her family had stew.
Anyway, it's a long story, but eventually I started to realize that I was frozen in time, never getting any older, while everyone changed around me. It was then that I realized my brother was Jesus, and since Ma had served him for stew I was officially immortal.
Which kind of sucks, since the world moves on from one shitty era to another.
But I figured out how to work out my aggression. I became a crime fiction writer.
* This bio may not be entirely true.
There are things worse than death. I'm proof. It all started when my brother disappeared one day. We'd been very, very poor, living on roots and berries and whatever we could scrounge together. Until the day my brother disappeared.
Then we had stew.
Now, my brother was a pretty good kid. I looked up to him, in the way that all five-feet tall little sisters look up to their big brothers who loom a foot taller than they do. My brother was usually pretty nice to me, actually. Worst thing I could say about him was that he was a lousy shot when it came to hunting, and Ma was always going on about what a lousy shot he was and moaning about why he couldn't be like her, a prize-winning gunslinger.
He was good at fishing, though, and he wore cool sandals.
And I didn't like the chain he wore around his neck, the one with the crown of thorns pendant on it. But that seemed like such a little thing to complain about.
Ma said something about him going away to get a job as a carpenter and helping us with some money and to eat up, but I lost my appetite when I bit down on metal, tasted blood and pulled the crown of thorns out of my mouth.
Somehow, something about that stew just didn't sit right. I had bad indigestion.
Then things really started to get weird. I could see my brother. Not in my head, like in my imagination, but in rooms, on chairs, on rocks outside, walking down the road. Except he was two-dimensional and appeared in shades of gray.
Then it wasn't just my brother I could see, but my Pa, who'd died the year before, and my best friend Farren, who disappeared the day before her family had stew.
Anyway, it's a long story, but eventually I started to realize that I was frozen in time, never getting any older, while everyone changed around me. It was then that I realized my brother was Jesus, and since Ma had served him for stew I was officially immortal.
Which kind of sucks, since the world moves on from one shitty era to another.
But I figured out how to work out my aggression. I became a crime fiction writer.
* This bio may not be entirely true.
Views: 88
Replies to This Discussion
-
Permalink Reply by Jack Getze on
-
Think I'm glad I met you BEFORE reading this one. I changing my plans for dinner tonight. My dog gets the stew meat.
-
Permalink Reply by Sandra Ruttan on
-
Well, I just thought it would be dull to come on and do the usual intro. Thought maybe I'd have some fun with it. I can't read the comments on your post Jack, so maybe I've been blacklisted already. ;)
-
-
Can't imagine anything you say or do being dull, Ms. R. And I like the idea of introducing yourself with writing. I have done the same.
There are no replies to my post. I had some technical problems getting the entire story uploaded, and at one point tried adding the missing portions as Replies. This seemed reasonable to me at the time, I am embarrassed to say.
-
Permalink Reply by Daniel Hatadi on
-
Ah, so. Well, I've sent off a support request to Ning. Let's see if they can figure out what's going on. :)
-
-
I didn't expect this to turn into a flash fiction site, but hey, if the writing's this good, why not? ;)
-
-
Well, you know me Daniel. I'll show you mine if you show me yours.
And, as with most things with men involved, I'm still waiting. (LOL!)
-
-
Sandra, whenever I'm in the mood, you always say you have a headache. You only seem to be up for it when I'm hung over. :)
(I just finished the first draft of a short I'm planning on sending off to a certain mag that has something to do with tickling vertebrae)
-
-
I'm sure it's down to timezones complicating things. ;)
Sounds like I have one thing to look forward to...
-
Permalink Reply by Christa M. Miller on
-
I tried to make stew out of my little brother, but my mother found out. (I was still young enough to actually listen when she said No.) Now my brother and I are friends, and I write stories about people who are worse than I was. And try to keep my two kids from making stew out of each other.
-
Permalink Reply by Carolyn Rogers on
-
Hmm, the description of you from Mindy is waaayy different than this... Which to believe? Carolyn
-
Permalink Reply by M.G. Tarquini on
-
The stuff regarding the Revenuer and the gerbils is totally true.
Totally.
-
-
And the gerbils explain why so often after I host dinner parties the guests have problems with hairballs.
Ah, yeah, Daniel invited me on to lower the tone, right?
Welcome to
CrimeSpace
© 2024 Created by Daniel Hatadi.
Powered by
