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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
Feels
Sound
Neck
Didn
Necks
Stills
Weird
Still
Sounds
Back
Watching
Look
Hair
Looks
Probably
Blinked
Feel
Knew
Hairs

More quotes by Lucy Christopher

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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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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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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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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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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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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 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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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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I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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 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 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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You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
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But what else can I do, other than to plead with you like this? Other than to write down my story, our story, to show you that what you've done . . . to make you realize that what you did wasn't fair, wasn't right.
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