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The people we care for aren't always the one we should

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Aren
Care
Always
People

More quotes by Lucy Christopher

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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.
Lucy Christopher
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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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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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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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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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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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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're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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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.
Lucy Christopher
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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
Lucy Christopher
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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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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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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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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 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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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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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.
Lucy Christopher