Memoir Audiobook Novels & Stories

"Amethyst, these are books that I recommend you to read. That...that is simply a tale. It does not contain relevant and accurate facts and data like what you are looking for," I looked down at the book in my hand. With him here, I had to admit, scouring through this massive book depository seemed easier. I allowed myself to utter my gratitude as I accepted the books he had offered. After a few moments, I began reading all over again. This time he was right. Pages after pages, I learned most of the basics. Rather than a creative narrative, the text appeared to be written like a memoir, as if the person who wrote the passages witnessed the brutality firsthand. It was making me feel nauseous al

I picture his hands, his body, and before I know it, I’m lost in the memory, my fingers moving faster as I give in to the moment. And then I hear it. "That’s it, little deer, move those fingers quicker." The words are low, almost like a groan. My eyes fly open in shock, and my heart stops. Did I just hear that? I hit the rewind button, replaying the last 20 seconds of the audiobook, but it’s not there. There’s no trace of those words. I replay it again, just to be sure, but still… nothing.

“How long have I been out?” “About an hour. This is quite a unique book. I think you’d find it interesting as well. Miriam wrote about you.” “What the hell?” he said with a deep frown. “She didn’t mention you by name, but she definitely wrote about you and your brother Andrew. Listen,” she said and began reading out loud: A Sex Maniac’s Journal By Dr. Miriam Bachmeier Chapter four My First Encounter

I mumbled as I stared at his dark nearly black eye lids that made him look tired. The sigh that the doctor made told me that he didn’t approve of my observation. “Bella we are trying to get your memories back. So I need you to try.” He said as he handed me the card. “I did try.” I grumbled. “It’s a brown bear.” He stated as he picked up another card. I pressed my lip because there were too many things in the world and I couldn’t know what they all were if I had only two weeks of memories.

"It is. And they all remember you, even when you can't remember them." "Is that sad or beautiful?" "Both. It's both." Hope pulled out a notebook. "I've been recording everything, Mom. Every lucid conversation, every memory fragment, every moment of clarity. I'm documenting your decline so future families will understand what Alzheimer's looks like from the inside." "That sounds awful." "It's honest. You always valued honesty over comfort." "Did I?" "You did. You insisted the memoir and documentary show everything – the abuse, the failures, the memory loss. All of it."

I creased my brows as if it took me some effort to recall. "Oh…" I suddenly gasped in realization, deliberately letting myself trail off before flashing an innocent smile. "So that was you—I'm so sorry, but like you said, it happened twenty years ago. It was so long ago that I've forgotten it. See, as I've accomplished so much important research work day after day, who has time to remember such… trivialities?"

“Why not?” “I … I can’t remember anything.” Her eyes fell to the ground. It’s not that she couldn’t remember, it’s just … she didn’t want to remember anything about it. Her dark past had been haunting her, chasing her wherever she went. She was scared. Her fear would consume her and bring back all the trauma. Her entire life she had avoided recalling every bit of memory from her parents. And she’s fine with little or nothing to remember at all. “Wait.” Estevan opened his backpack and, later on, pulled out a notepad. “I’ve read a book before—back in my country and took some notes out of it. Here,” he said, pointing at a page. “It’s called Meditation Memory Recall.”

“Wait for me, I’ll go into the bookshelf, yes, it’s her. A few months ago, I listened to this little she-wolf’s audio novel, which was good, but it’s a pity that she hasn’t broadcast it anymore recently..." The old lady clicked on an audio novel with a mysterious smile on her face: "The point is, this is written by my daughter-in-law, and also recorded by my daughter-in-law herself. It tells the story of her acquaintance with you, her marriage, and her life after marriage. The whole process..." Wolf’s eyes suddenly widened, and his heartbeat suddenly jumped several times: The voice is hers. Everything she says and the dates she mentions also match her daily life. The announcer is also called

I knew he was talking about Damien who was still there. I went back to my bed. Minnie was not there anymore. She had gone back to her quarters that very night we were done so as not to rouse suspicion. I sat gently on the bed, pondering all what my mind had gone through this morning. First there was the thought of me having dominion over all wolves, then there was me recalling the events of my childhood were my memory completely blanked out after I caught my father and Aariv in a deep discussion about a book and a framed photo. I laid down on my pillow, closing my eyes and concentrating hard. I tried to relive that moment again but the same thing happened. I listened to the exact conversatio

I walked in and was greeted with images and flashes that were overwhelming me, making me shake my head in panic before the place began shaking. ‘Please stop fighting me. I’m not trying to hurt you. I want to get back in. All you have to do is stop resisting. Open your eyes and focus.’ my younger version spoke. The voice echoed in my head over the painful sound. I remembered why this had been familiar and why I could never remember. After the accident, I had been fighting my younger self and winning because I refused to remember. That's why I always wake up drenched in my own sweat as if I was drowning. Every time she tried to speak all I heard was the noise that blocked me from allowing the