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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.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Means
Keep
Grinned
Doesn
Stubborn
Mean
Anyway
Always
Healing
Hurt
Pain

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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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I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
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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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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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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 deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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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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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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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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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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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.
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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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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch 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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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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