Dead End Memories Novels & Stories

Lyra recognized it first. ‘No’ Her voice trembled. “The memory dies.” Silence. The sentence hit everyone. Even the origin. “What does that mean?” asked Mara. Lyra looked at the burning horizon. “The memories were held too long.” Silver flames swirled over the sky. “Now they dissolve.” The dreamer moved under the waves. Sad. Mara felt it. Don't worry. Not rage. Sad. Unbelievable sadness. The dreamer had kept memories for millennia.

Toast to the ones here today Toast to the ones that we lost on the way 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories And the memories bring back, memories bring back you The light turned green. The silver gray Mercedes S600 cruised down the freeway, travelling south. There's a time that I remember When I did not know no pain When I believed in forever And everything would stay the same Ethan was sitting in the front passenger seat with so much soft leather around him that he could barely hear the 389 horsepower,6-liter engine...

Names some familiar, others long buried in the shadows of power. And one line, underlined in red: SUBJECT E.D. – SUCCESSFUL MEMORY RETENTION POST-TERMINATION EVENT My breath left me in a sharp, broken sound. “They knew,” I said faintly. “They knew I’d remember.” “Yes.” “They let me die?” Alex’s jaw tightened. “They caused it.” The room tilted. Images flooded my mind the hospital lights from my first life, the sudden crash, the sensation of falling into nothingness. I had always thought fate had been cruel.

Their disappearance was the greatest proof that whatever had happened here wasn’t a dream. “Hmmm, so that is where he is,” Elder Sand murmured as he looked into the memories of the trapped Walkers. Weaker beings like those mindless creatures could have their memories easily seen by higher level Undead. It was nothing extraordinary. However, because they weer low grade Undead, their memories were fragment of the truth and that was why Elder Sand had gone through so much trouble to capture them all. It was only by taking each of their memories and piecing them together that he could receive the answers that he sought. In a sense, it was like fixing a jigsaw puzzle.

"But that's sudden. We just got into a partnership. You're just going to throw it away?" I pulled her fingers off me and stepped away. "It's in its final phase. My partner can handle the rest. I have another project to handle." My stepping away hurt her heart. She stared at me, dazed. Lauren extended her trembling hand, and it hung in midair. Her instincts told her I was not coming back, but she asked, "When are you coming home?" I shook my head and put on a smile. "Never." Sorrow crept onto her face. She stared at me in disbelief. She kept trying to grab me, but I kept moving back, so she stopped. Like an abandoned puppy, she did not have the courage to move forward to someone who had just

Furious, Sylvia kicked my mother on the floor a couple more times. In a fit of panic, I lunged forward to shield my mother’s body. Unfortunately, the heel on Sylvia’s shoe still landed squarely on her form. Hearing my mother’s agonized cries, I came to a belated realization: I was dead. I had been dead for seven years. I was just a wandering spirit and powerless to protect anything. “Sylvia, Charles didn’t abandon you! He...” ‘He donated his organs to you and chose death for himself.’

I believed him and never questioned it. The door was unlocked and opened with a gentle push. The study was decorated minimally. There was just one massive desk and a bookcase that reached the ceiling. However, there were no photos of his parents or his brother, Alex. Instead, the walls were covered with Rachel Taylor's pictures. Rachel as a teenager, running along the shore in a white dress. Rachel in college, smiling by a library window as she held her textbook. Rachel in a wedding gown... My eyes burned. Through my tears, I noticed a diary on the desk.

Her reply came slow, hesitant — the first time she had ever sounded uncertain. “The mark of the dead is not a curse… it’s a beacon. A memory of the world that was erased.” “I don’t understand. Why me?” “You died at the end of the cycle, and yet you remember. The world does not take kindly to anomalies.” My stomach twisted. “So… I was supposed to stay dead.” “Yes,” she said softly. “And now the dead can see you, even from beyond their decay.” The wind shifted suddenly — carrying a foul, rotting smell from the treeline. I turned. In the distance, I saw shapes moving between the trees. Slow. Hesitant. Drawn.

He thought that if death could end this bone-deep pain, perhaps it would be the best conclusion. … Theodore fell into a very long dream. In the dream, he was back at his wedding night with Calista. Calista wore a silk nightgown, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across her collarbone and her hair spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, full of both nervousness and anticipation. "Theodore, I—" But he turned away and went to the prayer room, kneeling before the statue with Aveline's name filling his thoughts.

The morgue was cold, carrying a foul, sterile smell. Expressionless staff pushed me into a metal drawer. With a soft "click," the door closed. The system's voice echoed in my mind. [Death confirmed. Final storyline completed.] [Countdown to soul departure: 71 hours 59 minutes.] [Please await the opening of the passage.] I drifted in the cold, hollow air and let out a breath. Finally, things were coming to an end.