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.