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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
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WAL
Love
Danger
Stolen
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Knew
Dirt
Happened
Letter
Taken
Nowhere
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Sand
Stories
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Airports
More quotes by Lucy Christopher
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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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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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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 deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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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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How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
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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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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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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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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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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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There is no need to put your heart in a bottle, then you will die. - Ty from Stolen
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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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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
Lucy Christopher
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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