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Where are you going? I asked. The middle of nowhere. I thought this was it. Nah. You shook your head. This is just the edge.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Head
Middle
Thought
Going
Shook
Nowhere
Edge
Edges
Asked

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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
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It was so big, that view. I’ll never remember it properly. How can anyone remember something that big? I don’t think people’s brains are designed for memories like that. They’re designed for things like phone numbers, or the color of someone’s hair. Not hugeness.
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I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.
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There is no need to put your heart in a bottle, then you will die. - Ty from Stolen
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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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I thought you wanted to catch a camel, you tried again. No. I want to. Well, you go then. You laughed. I want your beautiful face where I can see it
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If there'd been an astronaut on the moon right then, I'm sure I could have seen him. Perhaps he could have looked down and seen me too... the only one who could.
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I didn’t look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The hairs on my neck bristled when you blinked.
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I didn’t want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face I’d found so attractive at the airport. But you were there all right: the blue eyes, blondish hair, and tiny scar. Only you didn’t look beautiful this time. Just evil.
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In a moment, when I'm ready, I will turn off this computer and that will be it. This letter will be finished. A part of me doesn't want to stop writing to you, but I need to. For both of us.
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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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I mean, that star over there is blinking at me madly now, but for how long? An hour or two, or for the next million years? And how long will we sit here like this? Just another moment, or the rest of our lives? You know which one I'd prefer.
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I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried.
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