A Misty Memory Novels & Stories

I want to know how to make you smile more. “Don’t mind me. It’s just me and my silly thoughts…” He trailed off a bit before responding to my question. “My wife used to add the same amount of honey in her tea. Seeing you do the same made me feel happy for a moment.” I saw Lucas’ eyes tear up, but he quickly wiped the droplets away in the guise of running his hand through his hair. “Every time I see, hear, or smell things that remind me of her, the empty feelings in my heart fades for a while, but then I feel miserable afterwards when I realize she’s never coming back.”

" My mouth slowly curved into a faint smile. A single tear of blood slipped from the corner of my eye. In Claire's terrified cry, I lost consciousness. My mind drifted through pain and static. Then a white light opened somewhere deep inside my memory. It was ten years ago, a quiet afternoon in the woods behind the school.

he sneered. “I-it was a long time ago… Let’s forget about it,” she whispered with a frightened expression. “It’s been a long time, but… Because of that incident I had to end up like this, locked up. Now, you have to pay for everything!” “W-what are you—” “Shut up, or I will tell everyone what happened between us,” he threatened as he pulled Elise out of his room. That incident has already passed, exactly 8 years ago, when a misunderstanding made the two of them unable to forget each other, a time when both of them were too young to understand what happened between the two of them.

She was walking when suddenly, a lady calls out to her, the latter was in fact only the neighborhood gossip, everyone knew her as a gossip, she always gets into things that have nothing to do with her, she stuffs her nose everywhere, everything she hears at noon sharp, at noon one minute the whole neighborhood will know. -Waa mane dama diomi wala li loumou done, magui nane sama khel ki Kiné la wala dou mom, bi sopékou bou gueuna gaw, no but I'm hallucinating or what, I was thinking in my head if it was you or not, your change was so fast you who used to be so vulgar with a kilogram of powder, lipstick, sexy outfits. "Don't answer Physio, go on your way, in certain situations, only silence be

This time, I was the one smirking. “My mom isn’t a mistress, and I’m not the daughter of a mistress.” she said firmly. I let out a mocking laugh. “Are you thinking well? My mom and dad have been married until now, my mom was the first one more than your flirtatious mother, so what do you think you are called huh? Think about it, My mom is the original, we are the original, We were the first ones daddy loved, So don’t act like you're the first one. No matter how you twist it, your mother is still the mistress. So know your place.” Her glare grew sharper, and I smiled even wider when I saw her fist clench. That's right—savor the truth that your mother is the mistress.

Mishty voiced out without any gap and glared at Sid "I remembered how he used to chase me. And what did he say? He said I was the one running behind him the whole function" Mishty again loses her cool as she took the broom and started running behind Sid. Sid grabbed her both hands and breath fast "Relax darling. See how my plan made you recall everything. If I told you everything exactly, you won't mind trying to recall. That's why" Sid reasoned his actions as Mishty glared at him angrily.

He wanted to fall asleep but she couldn't. Pearl's mind was suddenly bombarded by a flood of memories, fragments of imagery and sound that seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time. It was like trying to grasp at smoke, the details always slipping through her fingers before she could fully register them. The images were mostly blurry and indistinct, as if she was viewing them through a glass that had been smeared with grease. She strained to recall more details, but it was as if the memories were just out of reach, taunting her with their elusive nature.

Be peaceful. She clutched her journal. It felt hot, angry. It rejected this place. She reached the well. Looking down, she didn't see water, she saw a swirling, pearlescent mist. It was the raw material of memory, being spun into this sickly-sweet fiction. She placed her hands on the stone rim, she didn't try to listen for a true memory, there was none here. Instead, she pushed her own memory into it. The memory of the Ashen Wastes. The screaming silence. The pain of ten thousand deaths.

I swung the sword at the mist, the air cracking around me. Pale lightning burst from the blade, ripping a clean gash through the fog. The miasma shrieked. The world shuddered. And the fog—The endless, suffocating fog—split apart in a single, blinding flash. When the haze cleared, my breath hitched. There it was. The tree from Maureen’s final days. The same twisted roots. The same silver‑leafed branches. The same soft shimmer on its bark. I froze. I wasn’t sure if it was real, or another memory the miasma was forcing me to see.