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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Stepped
Afterlife
Angels
Angel
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More quotes by Lucy Christopher

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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 was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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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 love you, you said, simple as anything.
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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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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
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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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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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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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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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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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch 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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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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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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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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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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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.
Lucy Christopher
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
Lucy Christopher