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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.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Eye
Beautiful
Icy
Back
Warm
Blue
Pretty
Eyes
Looking
Powerful

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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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I chased money, pretended to be someone else to get it. It got easier the longer I did it... but that's the trap, see? When the deadness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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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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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.
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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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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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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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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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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 sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.
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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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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.
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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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