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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
Always
Anyway
Healing
Hurt
Pain
Means
Keep
Doesn
Grinned
Mean
Stubborn

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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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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 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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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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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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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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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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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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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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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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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 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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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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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.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch 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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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
Lucy Christopher