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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.
Lucy Christopher
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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Love
Danger
Stolen
Like
Knew
Dirt
Happened
Letter
Taken
Nowhere
Story
Sand
Stories
Heat
Used
Letters
Airport
Everything
Expected
Airports
More quotes by Lucy Christopher
You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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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I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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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 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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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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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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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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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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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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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 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 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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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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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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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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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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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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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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