http://slow.writerscafe.org/Alice_Sharp The original writings of author Alice en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775995709 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 There was no clock in the room. I had placed my watch on top of my pile of clothes next to the bed, and I reached down to look at it. It told me that the time was half past nine, or near enough. I wondered why I had not slept for longer; I had gone to sleep so late and even now I was very tired. My .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508840/ Flying for the first time is wonderful. It is something that everybody has dreamed about now and again, though these dreams are not always terribly pleasant. When I flew with Jane that night, and when we flew again, whether it was for leisure or from danger, I would always feel calm and happy. It wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508832/ The night before she had not made me wait any time at all, but now I sat for hour upon hour, until I looked at my watch and I saw that it was close to one o' clock. I had not been aware of the passing of such time, and I had not felt any unease about sitting in the same place for so long: I did not .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508830/ I wish that I could remember more about that night when my life changed forever, but I cannot. It bothers me that to this day I cannot remember exactly what happened. I have been given various accounts, but I have nothing from my own memory. I do, however, have a vague idea of what happened the next.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508827/ That evening I could not stay inside the house. As soon as my parents returned from their day out the house was filled with the sound of mumbled conversation, and the tin can talk of the television, which reached me even in my upstairs room. They had been out together, but they did not want to be di.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508824/ A grey-faced woman appeared behind the desk, and Barry immediately got up to speak to her, crossly, and she spoke back in a voice that did not care. She gave him directions eventually and he came over to me and said that it was time to go.We walked through the hospital together silently, and in Barr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508823/ At last it was Saturday, and I was closing the shop. Barry was waiting for me outside, friendly, but nonetheless staring at his watch impatiently. When I had mentioned that I was going to visit Dianne on the Saturday he had insisted on driving me over to the hospital. I had tried to worm out of it b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508818/ An instinctive animal part of my mind was telling me that I was in danger, that I should get out of the shop and as far away from this woman that looked like a child as I could possibly get. The reasonable human part told me to stay where I was, that I was under no threat of any kind, and that I had.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508808/ The face did not come back the next day, of course, or the day after. It never left me though; it was on my mind, fleetingly, every day. I could not concentrate properly on anything, no matter how hard I tried. My thoughts in turn led to my missing sister. I had not thought of her so frequently for .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/508805/ So Christmas was on the way, and I helped Dianne to put up decorations, and eventually forgot the whole thing, though every so often Dianne would probe by speaking to me about weddings and children and all different sorts of things related to romance, and I would smile and say nothing, because there.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/507905/ So why did I start this? Well, I'm getting there. I haven't thought over this in quite a while, so it will take time. I was working in the shop that sold cards, and I had been for quite a while by then. The woman who was my manager was chronically overweight, and it was my job to arrange the cards.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/507903/ My name is -Does it really matter what my name is? Well - I suppose it does. My name is Lucie and when this all began I was eighteen years old.  My family before - what should I say about them? Well, I had a father and a mother, and I once had an older sister but somebody took her away. It .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/507898/ Jane has no heartbeat and no reflection. When she turns up in a small costal town, things take a sinister turn for shop girl Lucie. But what really happened to Lucie's missing sister? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alice_Sharp/507897/