Dead End Memories Novels & Stories

Justin’s expression did not change, as though it were just a stranger who had died before him and not someone he had once been obsessed with for so many years. He stood there for a long time, until the oil cooled. Then, his assistant approached. “Mr. Quinn, the kids are awake. They’re crying and asking for you.” “I’ll be there in a moment.” Justin turned around. “Did you record everything just now? I want Yvonne to see it someday.” “Yes, everything was recorded,” the assistant replied. “Should we dispose of Ms. Shaw’s body?” “Take care of it. Make sure it’s clean. I don’t want it to offend Yvonne’s eyes in the future.”

They were sitting on the sofa, speaking in low voices. Seraphine laughed brightly, her smile blooming like a flower. Raelor noticed the wooden box in my hands and asked instinctively, "What are you carrying that box for?" "Just some discarded medical records," I replied casually. "I brought them back to burn." Raelor nodded. His gaze swept across the now-empty room, confusion flickering in his eyes. "I’ve only been gone a week. Why does it feel like so many things are missing?"

A name echoes from the depths, not my own, a title spoken in whispers and screams by a thousand voices: The World-Ender. And beneath the title, a single, coherent memory slams into me with the force of a freight train. I’m standing over the ruins of a different city, a different Instance, my hands dripping with something that isn’t blood, looking at a man with familiar, wary eyes. Liam Reed. He’s saying my name—my real name—and his voice is the only anchor in a world coming apart. The memory vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving me gasping on my knees in the white nothingness. But it left something behind. A scent. Not ozone, but something wilder. Pine and frost and furious, untamed power.

The sensation of the explosion wasn't a roar or a heatwave, it was a sudden, absolute silence that felt like being plunged into a sea of liquid nitrogen, Verina’s physical body was gone, or at least it felt that way, as she drifted through a vast, infinite architecture of glowing white data-streams and shifting geometric shadows. This was the "Digital Graveyard," the internal processing core of the Thorne-Genesis Archive, where the memories of the dead were indexed and the souls of the "liquidated" were stored as unencrypted code. She could see the fragments of Julian’s ambition floating like jagged glass, the cold, clinical echoes of her mother’s betrayals, and the original "Stolen Night" r

But I was still not in the mood for calls, so I decided to turn my phone off. I woke up the next morning, I didn't know when I slept in. My head was still banging, and I was reminded that my husband was dead. Last night's event kept replaying, I looked beside my nightstand, I took our wedding portrait and looked at the man I married, The one who left me a widow even though he's been gone for a long time his Memories of us were still fresh in my head. Tears filled my eyes, my sight was blurry, I placed the portrait upside down and made my way to the kitchen counter to take some medications for the headache. Knock knock (someone was knocking)

pag-sisingit ko sa usapan nila. "You want to know right? then stay," malamig na saad ni Eric. Ito na ata ang sinasabi ni Ellen na dating ugali ni Eric. "Yes, I did. But you know closure is still part of it." Hindi ko na sila pina-salita at umalis na lang ako. Papasok na sana ako sa CR nang may humila sa akin. "Tarant---"

Oops, I forgot that I had no heart but nectar. That is when reality dawned on me, while the processor's words rang in my ear. Different evil entities will keep coming after you once you get to Gaea. Then the priest's messenger words also played in my mind. They mentioned one boy whom they thought was the last of the Smiths, but he was killed. That is also when I remember that I didn't get the chance to ask him more questions before the war began.

To feel. Some emerged changed. Some didn’t emerge at all. But none were the same. The root spoke for the first time at 4:11 a.m. Lena was alone in the chamber, watching its flame form oscillate. A pulse moved through the air. Not voice. Not sound. “This is not the end of memory. This is the memory of endings.” She didn’t respond. She placed her hand on the root. And let it show her. The burning of archives. The wiping of faces.

And my darling daughter, Alice—her future would be limitless. The End

My family had to put a stop to the broadcast of my memories. I huddled in a corner, feeling numb about the whole situation, but they struggled to accept reality. Sandra teared up shakily, mumbling in disbelief. Roger gasped heavily, his fists clenched, while Caleb, wearing his heart on his sleeve, punched the table. “I can’t believe Casey is evil! “Where is she? I must ask her if this is real.” The scientist wiped away a tear. “This is the donor’s deepest and most personal memory. There’s one more piece of memory. Do you want to watch it?”