Dead End Memories Novels & Stories

All the blood-stained memories of Manhattan drifted away with the cool evening breeze, left forever in the ruins of a life I would never return to. THE END

"Elara... I'm sorry..." I stood in the doorway of the cell for a long time without speaking. "You remember?" I looked at him. He only nodded. "I remember... Ansel's legs... Those years you spent in the cottage... and when you died..." His voice broke. "I remember all of it..." "Good." My voice was calm. "I was worried you'd die without knowing why and think you didn't deserve it." "Elara..." "It's not unfair," I cut him off. "Everything you owe Ansel and me from the last life, you will repay in this one. Every last bit of it."

Her words started fading away as she slowly lost her life. Butt at the moment, had an occurring memory travel as he remembered what one of the notes he saw in his dreams said. "Someone on your side, will bring the end of all, do you wish to discover who it is?" It flashes over his eyes as his forehead crinkled. "It..is by ...!" Her eyes were wide open and her muscles went dormant, thus marking her dead. His eyes got accumulated with tears as he stopped to kiss her by the forehead. He closed her eyes before walking away from her body.

Then, he gathered her in a tight embrace and they sat there in the clearing, consoling each other for what they were worth. Certain memories can never be erased from your life; no matter how hard you try to replace them with better ones. They are like chronic diseases. You try your best to heal them but in a while, they hit you back with double the force. The pain associated with it ends only after death. Alex and Eva didn’t want to be plagued by their haunted memories for eternity. So, they decided to end their lives. But, does fate have the same plan?

I pulled off to crack the ice of silence building between us. “I have a syndrome opposite to Alyana. These notes are my memories since birth. And if you're wondering about the medicines that I took, they are medicines that help me extend the memories that I have for another 24 hours, it aids me enough time to write or type them all. This compilation is of my memories, this one is of important details which include the crimes and curiosity that I can’t even remember up to now. I have a severely deficient autobiographical memory. It sucks,” we remained silent for another minute, then, she pressed a button behind the picture frame hung on the wall, and an about one meter by one-meter piece of t

she dismissed walking away before I got a chance to offer my own goodbye, but I deemed it as fate since further interaction would probably just lead to another memory I pondered on with a feeling of regret and sadness in the depts of my soul. . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanks for reading ❤️‼️ Hope you enjoyed the chapter ❤️‼️

” I pick up another stone and throw it at the mud. “So, that’s a slightly disturbing anecdote old man and a disturbing way to get your first kill. “Any nightmares since yesterday then?” “Nightmares?” The old man stands up and fills his pipe with mud dipped dried leaves. “After 28 years of endless war, I can’t distinguish nightmares from peaceful dreams I used to have as a young man!” The old man laughs like a man who has fully accepted the darkness in his life, I laugh along uneasily though. We then instead continue off into reminiscing about some of the funny moments that have occurred in the past and had dropped the topic of yesterday’s incident completely, which was good since later that

I led him to an old house and projected a grainy surveillance recording onto the blank wall. The footage played clearly on the wall. At the exact moment I turned my head, Grandma Eve released her grip on the wheelchair handles and hurled herself down the slope. My voice trembled as I finally unleashed years of pent-up frustration and injustice. "Open your eyes and watch closely! I didn't kill her! It wasn’t me!" Grandma had already decided to end her life long before that day. She no longer wanted to keep living, longing instead for a swift release. That afternoon, when we went out for a walk, she insisted on taking that exact route. It was a park she knew well, and every path and turn was f

I said aloud, though no one was near me. I hadn’t told Mia. I hadn’t told Austin. But I’d seen it in my sleep. And worse—I’d seen it in someone else’s memory. Someone who remembered killing me. Austin’s POV We met in the war room, though no war was being fought—yet. The table glowed with maps that didn’t make sense anymore. Territories shifted hourly. Some of them didn’t exist. “We’re not dealing with linear magic anymore,” said the Fifth. “We’re dealing with something older. Memory magic. Maybe even mythic convergence.”

Some of the resurrected were celebrating. Others were attacking the living. A few were screaming in confusion. Mora continued: “Life without death is not freedom.” “It is imprisonment.” Death stepped forward. “Mother, let me fix it.” Mora looked at her. “You?” “Yes.” Mora laughed. “You don’t even remember how.” Death’s Memory Mora touched Death’s forehead. Suddenly Death screamed. Memories flooded back. She saw herself as a child. A little girl standing beside Mora. She remembered holding her mother’s hand.