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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
Nowhere
Edge
Edges
Asked
Head
Middle
Thought
Going
Shook

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I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
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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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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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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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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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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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This be OK?' I asked, innocently. 'You want me to have no skin left?' You rolled your eyes. Actually, don't answer that one.
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Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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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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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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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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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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But what else can I do, other than to plead with you like this? Other than to write down my story, our story, to show you that what you've done . . . to make you realize that what you did wasn't fair, wasn't right.
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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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