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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

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Didn
Necks
Stills
Weird
Still
Sounds
Back
Watching
Look
Hair
Looks
Probably
Blinked
Feel
Knew
Hairs
Feels
Sound
Neck

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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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How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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 chased money, pretended to be someone else to get it. It got easier the longer I did it... but that's the trap, see? When the deadness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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 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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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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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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If there'd been an astronaut on the moon right then, I'm sure I could have seen him. Perhaps he could have looked down and seen me too... the only one who could.
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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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.
Lucy Christopher