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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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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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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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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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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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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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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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You smiled then, and your whole face changed with it. It kind of lit up, like there were sunbeams coming from inside you.
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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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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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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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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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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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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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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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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.
Lucy Christopher