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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
Edge
Edges
Asked
Head
Middle
Thought
Going
Shook
Nowhere

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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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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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You nodded towards the cup. Want more? I shook my head. What about the car? Didn't find it. You were heading back towards me when I found you. Towards . . . ? You nodded. So I reckoned the car had probably got stuck or died somehow, and you were just coming home. Home? Yeah. Your mouth twitched. Back to me.
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I could hear you, talking to the daffodils and tulips, whispering to the fairies that lived inside their petals. Each separate flower had a different family inside 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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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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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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Doesn't that hurt? I said. Yep. How do you keep them in there? I'm stubborn. You grinned. Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing. Not always.
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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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It happened like this. I was stolen from an airport. Taken from everything I knew, everything I was used to. Taken to sand and heat, dirt and danger. And he expected me to love him. This is my story. A letter from nowhere.
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It sounded weird to hear you talk so much normally you only said a few words at a time. I'd never imagined that you'd have a story, too. Until that moment, you were just the kidnapper. You didn't have reasons for anything. You were stupid and evil and mentally ill. That was all. When you started talking, you started changing.
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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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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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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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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
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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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