Buried Memories Novels & Stories

But as she lay back on her bed, a memory surfaced—dark, buried, long forgotten. It clawed at her chest, tightening around her breath. A secret no one knew. A darkness waiting to consume her.

Fortunately, with the help of my friends in Italy and Greece, I finished my schooling in business course and applied as Barack's secretary who is now my fiancé. My heart was heavy upon reminiscing the past. It was squeezing me inside, preventing me from breathing smoothly. I did not know what happened afterwards, my mind was nowhere to be found. The next thing I just knew was we were already inside the van and my son was watching the colourful lights outside. I motioned my hands to my face and noticed my wet cheeks. I immediately wiped it with my fingers and heaved a heavy deep breath. Am I really ready to face my past and remember the forgotten?

Compared to other kids his age, Golden wasn't exactly normal because he belonged to a rare group of people that can retain memories from before they were born, in other words, memories of their past lives. In fact, Golden barely qualified as a member of that group because compared to others with the same condition, he remembered only a little bit, while the others retained the memories of all their past lives or almost all of it. Furthermore, his inherited knowledge of his past life was mostly miscellaneous, not very useful.

Some memories left in me, but I believe the big part was gone. Dad told me I'm with my father that night. He didn't survive. And my mother died when I was just a baby. Since then, I've always felt that there's a big gap in my life. As though part of me is dead. And it's almost nonsense if I look for it. That gap. That missing pieces. Not only broken bones I got from that incident, but broken memories too. I'm a bit sleepy. I turned the TV volume up so I wouldn't fall asleep. I hate sleeping in the afternoon, it's giving me a hard time sleeping at night. And I'm sure Allen and Hue will be here any minute.

We got to the place where the burial was held. There were quite a lot of people present, Rolly’s friends whom I last met at my wedding. I couldn’t hold my tears. I decided to put on my shades and went closer to the event. I felt all eyes were on me when I walked closer. Some people came to my family to hug and show condolences. We sat down as the procession started, a little sermon and condolence messages from different dignitaries. Pictures of all the armies who died during the war were laid including my husband as well as roses on each portrait. After the sermon, we were asked to stand and show respect as we walked to each portrait and dropped our flowers. When I got to my husband’s portra

"Sometimes, the mind can bury memories deep within, especially if they're too painful to face consciously. It might not be a single event but a build up of stress, fear, or grief. Your mind might be trying to shield you from something you're not ready to confront. It comes even when facing a thought or idea might be too much for you. Or it could be black magic. If someone planted some blue bleorda at your bedside, or around where you lay your head at night, you could keep losing your memory. Brad took a sip of his tea, his brow furrowed in thought. "But how do I get my memories back? I don't want to live like this, feeling like a stranger in my own life. Besides, I don't think there's a plan

“August 15: Elliot will be the hardest to break. But he will break, just like the others.” Elliot’s breath caught in his throat. His name. They had known he would come here, long before he’d even received the invitation. He flipped through the pages frantically, searching for anything that might explain why. His heart stopped when he reached the last entry. “The truth is not what he remembers. He will see. He must.” The words blurred in his vision as memories he had buried deep began to resurface—his brother’s face, the sound of his laughter, the day he’d fallen…

It was something deeper, something from our past that she had buried until now. I turned to face her, the tension between us rising. What is she trying to say? “What are you talking about?” I asked, turning back toward her. My voice was sharp, but inside, I felt something stir. Memories—ones I had buried deep—began to creep into the corners of my mind. Rachel narrowed her eyes, frustration flickering across her face. “Oh, now you’re acting like you can’t remember,” she said, her tone laced with bitterness.

With a loud clatter, Candice dropped her phone onto the floor. The color drained from her face as she stood there frozen, muttering to herself in disbelief. "How is that possible…? How could my account suddenly be deregistered…?" Only after several seconds did she snap back to reality. She hurriedly picked up the phone and shouted frantically into it: "Did you make a mistake? No one knows I faked my death and took my sister's identity except you. How could someone have my records erased?!"

It was a photo album, and the cover featured a floral pattern that I had always liked. When he flipped open the first page, he froze. It was a picture from our very first date. I had been wearing a white dress, and he had been in a plaid shirt. The two of us had been standing on the pier by the sea, smiling like absolute fools. He couldn't even remember when that photo had been taken anymore. Flipping further, he was met with the fragments of our history. There was a photo of his back as he cooked in our rented apartment and one of the crooked snowman we had built together. Beneath every single photograph, there was a caption written in my handwriting.