Stolen

Stolen: A Letter to My Captor
By Lucy Christopher


My rating: 5 of 5 stars


My Favourite part:

You told me once of t he plants that lie dormant through the

drought; that wait, half dead, deep in the earth. The plants that

wait for the rain. You said they'd wait for years, if they had to;

that they'd almost kill themselves before they grew again. But

as soon as those first drops of water fall, those plants begin to

stretch and spread their roots. They travel up through the soil and sand to reach the surface. There's a chance for them again.

One day they'll let you out of that dry, empty cell. You'll return to the Separates, without me, and you'll feel the ram once more. And you'll grow straight, this time, towards this sunlight. I know you will.

My eyelids are heavy as stone. But when I sleep, I'll have that dream again. I haven't wanted to tell you about it, until now.

I'll be in the Separates, and I'll be digging with my bare hands. When I've made a hole deep enough to plant a tree, I'll place my fingers inside. I'll slip off the ring you gave me. It will catch the light and glint a rainbow of colours over my skin, but I will take my hands away, leaving it there. I'll start to sprinkle the earth back over it, and I will bury it. Back where it belongs.

I'll rest against a tree's rough trunk. The sun will be setting, its dazzling colours threading through the sky, making my cheeks warm.

Then I will wake up.

It's 4.07am now. Not long until dawn. The smell of eucalyptus is thick in this room, seeping in through the open window and travelling into my lungs. 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.

Goodbye Ty,

Gemma.