Fahrenheit-182: A Memoir Novels & Stories

“Has yours ever beaten?” Salem looked out the window. “It’s come close,” he whispered, and then met my eyes once more. “Maraina, I must tell you something. It might anger you to know it, but as you’re angry with me already, I don’t imagine it will make things worse.” He paused, and then went straight into it. “That night on the road, I was stalking your coach because I’d heard of your sister’s beauty. I wished to see it for myself, so that I could seduce her in her dreams. But it was you who caught my attention: you, the one with the spine to shoot me. I’d never seen such fire in a woman of your era. It fascinated me . . . excited me. That was when I knew you were the one worth seducing. And

I said “Why are you blaming yourself, Ate Alta?” Gravity asked, “My brother wouldn’t like it when he saw you blaming yourself because of what happened to him.” Gravity is 5 years older than Beau. But his mind is more mature than his brother's. “Are you the family of Mr. Heisenix?” A doctor came to approach us “Yes, Doc.” His father answered “The patient is awake, we transferred him to the private room. But I have a thing to say since his head hit so much, he may forget the memories he has.”

Saying that quite out loud "When she awoke in a cold sweat, the darkness fresh inside and outside her mind, I would talk to her, speak words of encouragement in that high, teetering voice of mines until she made it to other end of the hall and to her mother’s room. You’re almost there. You’re almost there. No one had ever grown closer to her than me, no one had ever come closer to feeling like home." I sighed, that was her favorite story line from the book "Memories" by Dim Leon, I remember how much I hated reading that book, but she made me read her bed time stories. "I miss you every day Nuella" keeping aside a picture of hers, she was smiling at me that day, she looked so beautiful, she

I said, grinning from teeth to teeth like a child. We walked into the library. It looked like it had been a while, since it was in use. We went through several sections which included, finance, self-improvement, ethics, business amongst all. I caught a glimpse of a book I had been wanting to read, “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. I picked it immediately, and started going through it. After a while, I noticed I wasn't hearing any sound from the cook. I looked around and found her wiping tears off her eyes with the hem of her apron.

Eldonfield hadn't seen a proper snowfall in years; ever since I'd followed Ted here, the winters had felt stripped of their former magic. Memories pulled me back to my northern coastal hometown, where sea gales transformed moisture into thick, fluffy blankets overnight. By dawn, the snow would bury everything knee-deep in pristine white—a bold, exhilarating sweep, unlike this city's clingy drizzle that tugged relentlessly at the heartstrings. I dumped my bag and sank onto a bus stop bench, dialing home. My mom picked up quickly, her tone buzzing with cautious hope. "Nora?" The cold air nipped at my nose as I rubbed it, soothing the burn. "Mom, I'm craving your apple pie."

He studied me for a moment before saying softly, "I remember you used to be so delicate." I froze. I suddenly felt a little embarrassed. "Do you remember me?" Daniel sighed. "You've gotten so thin. I remember when you were little—stubborn, mischievous. Your parents and brother spoiled you endlessly." Yes, Daniel was an old acquaintance. Back when my parents were alive, he had been close to my father. That was why I had believed I could move him—that he'd help if I came all this way through snow and ice. After a long silence, he added quietly, "Heart transplants have the lowest success rate of any transplant surgery. As a healer, all I can do is try. Don't set your hopes too high."

He moved to the machine, pressed three buttons, and then handed three metal helmets to my parents and Steve. “Mr. Zeller,” he explained carefully, “once the three of you sit down and put these helmets on, you’ll be able to view the subject’s memories through the built-in visual interface. Based on her brain activity, she’ll only be able to recall three memories. Anything beyond that is extremely dangerous and could cause brain damage, seizures, bleeding, or permanent memory loss.” “Three times is enough. The first one should be about Emily’s disappearance. She definitely knows something,” Steve said impatiently as he grabbed a helmet and sat down beside me.

Thursday Night God, I’m still trembling. My thighs are sore, my body aches deliciously, and my pussy… my pussy feels so fucking full, even hours later. I can smell him on me. I can feel the ghost of his cock stretching me. I have to write this down before the details fade, before the raw, filthy truth of it gets polished into some pretty memory. It wasn’t pretty. It was primal.

The sun was shining its morning raise over the clear sky. The birds were chirping the morning songs along the fragrant wind dancing with the baby leaves of trees in the celebration of a new day. Today was mid-August 2010 when Jane Martin was preparing for her first ever class at Bardell Senior High School after she drove to Washington two weeks ago with her whole family.

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing just then that it was difficult to bring up what he had done. My heart was cold even as I watched him avert his eyes in embarrassment. Of course I remembered—the way he looked at me in disgust and every insult he slung at me before he finally abandoned me. All my delusions of family affection vaporized right then, but I pretended not to remember. I creased my brows as if it took me some effort to recall.