Fear Of Being Forgotten Novels & Stories

Tine watched as the Clutch Elders assembled in the Hall of Ancestors for the Reading of his bloodline. As the Master of Records read his lineage starting with the first of his line and going forward for twenty generations, he felt his chest swell with pride. His line was one of the oldest and strongest of all of the dragon clutches scattered about. Thanks to senseless and fearful hunting in some parts of the world, his kind were fewer and fewer. Most humans were fearful of things that they did not understand or could not control. Realizing the Master of Records was waiting on him, he cleared his throat and asked him to repeat the question. Several of the male elders nudged each other in the

The most frightening situation besides being forgotten is forcing yourself to forget. Don't forget because I haven't forgotten. Just a reminder... Jane gaped, she is stunned by constantly remembering (that person's good side). After a while she gets used to remembering him, after a while she get used to remembering him but this, that's not what she meant at all, she was more afraid when she said that he doesn't remember her, just kill her! She feel her world is collapsing, the pain of being left behind but she doesn't remember her at all! she doesn't remember himself…

I could feel the fear in his gaze, as if he knew something would change, but didn’t understand why. I wanted to explain. I wanted to string together words gentle enough to make him understand that this wasn’t his fault. But my lips stayed shut that day. I chose silence, because I knew every sentence would be another knife stabbing my own heart. I wondered—did he look for me when he woke up? Did he still wait for me to come into his room at night, to read him stories until his eyes closed? Or… had he started to forget my voice? The thought made my chest tighten. There was a strange fear I had never felt before: the fear of being forgotten by someone who once lo

Do you take it so easily, so that you can exchange it for every second of a blissful glee? Is it like a mist that passes by in front of you, dying to get noticed before it fades? You'd do everything to get it. You'd do everything to maintain it. You'd do everything to hold it in your hands. You'd do everything to keep it away from ever getting out of your sight. You'd keep it. Own it. No matter what. It's a disguise for the abominable fear. But it doesn't possess a heinous reason. It's for forgetting the vile memories and recreating life with an amicable one.

I sigh waiting for my turn as I looked around the clusters of students in groups which makes me feel weird. I’ve been attending this school since freshman years and now I’m a senior but I haven’t made a friend ever. Very weird. But it’s just my anxiety. And now I can’t even trust making a friend after all this whole incident of murders. I can’t trust anyone. Who knows if they’ll turn out to be the serial killer ? Laughters from the football team brought me back to the present. I moved back irritated as Ace Carlton has stepped on my feet while laughing. “Oh “. He turned around noticing what he said. “Sorry about that “.

I had been compelled to silence, gripped by the irrational fear that somehow even after all of those years, should I speak of it, that those things would seek me out and once again wreak havoc in my life. It has eaten my whole personality and I can’t help myself. I’ve been terrorized with those hallucinations and as time goes by it becomes vicious and dangerous. I confronted those fears and set out to vanquish those tormented memories once and for all by not sharing them with others, the delusions of a troubled child. I have held on to my scepticism and rationality for dear life. I have allowed them to define me. I have been plagued by an overwhelming sense of unease. I attributed this to th

It broke my heart and filled me with an urgent need to take drastic action, to reclaim what was rightfully mine. The weight of this realization hit me hard, and I knew I had to act quickly and decisively if I wanted to separate Deangelo from the people and circumstances that threatened to erase me from his life. The mere thought of losing him, of being replaced by his past, terrified me. The fear of being forgotten, discarded like a forgotten toy, consumed my every waking moment. It ate away at my soul, pushing me to take risks, to manipulate the situation in my favor.

Ice blue eyes that had once been my greatest asset in any room I walked into, now looking back at me with something I did not want to name. Fear, perhaps. Or its uglier cousin, the fear of being forgotten. I poured myself a drink I did not finish and sat with the weight of what I already knew I would do, the way you sat with a decision that had made itself somewhere beneath conscious thought, arriving fully formed and simply waiting for you to catch up to it. Irene had to go.

He never celebrated because he was always afraid of falling behind. His voice cracked as old memories resurfaced. He remembered being a teenager, lying awake at night, terrified that one mistake would destroy everything. If he failed, he believed his father would look at him with disgust. If he admitted fear or uncertainty, he would lose his father's respect. So he buried every emotion that made him seem human. Pain stayed hidden. Fear became silence. He built a version of himself that looked fearless because he believed it was the only version worthy of love.

He did adjust, angling his body just enough that he wasn’t speaking *at* her but no longer ignoring her presence. “I am not accusing Rin of malice,” he said. “She believes—truly—that without every detail, we will fail to see the danger when it returns. That without every scar displayed, we will forget what was done. I understand that fear. I share it.” A murmur of agreement. “What I fear,” he continued, “is what happens when we become so afraid of forgetting that we forbid anyone from looking away. When we suggest that those who choose not to attend one more trauma session are cowards, or weak, or don’t deserve the truth.”