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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.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Found
Mouths
Nodded
Didn
Towards
Heading
Home
Car
Headings
Back
Yeah
Shook
Find
Died
Cups
Coming
Mouth
Probably
Somehow
Twitched
Head
Stuck
Reckoned

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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 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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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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I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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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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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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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 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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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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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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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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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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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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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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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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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.
Lucy Christopher