Quote

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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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Light
Chill
Remember
Lights
Turning
Eucalyptus
Coffee
Blurs
Smell
Chilling
Air
Blazing
Arms
Blur
Fire
Conditioning

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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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 that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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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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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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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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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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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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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 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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