Memoir Audiobook Novels & Stories

I was scrolling through the reports when I found an email from the college girl who’d met me earlier in the day. “Hi, Ms. Meyers! I’m grateful you have me the opportunity to get an interview. I look forward to hearing your amazing story...” it read. As I read through the mail, an idea flashed through my mind. What if I documented Jared’s everyday experiences for the purpose of memory keeping? That way he’d still have his memories, but on a hard drive. I smiled at the thought. At the same time, another idea slipped into my head. I thought about the interview Abby Delaney was asking for and figured I could write something more personal, a memoir of my experience—the kidnap, the loss of my sens

I just needed her to stay. She was staying. --- The memoir was finished in October. Two hundred pages. Single-spaced. The story of my life from beginning to end. I printed it out. Put it in a box. Put the box in the closet. Laura found it. Of course she found it. She found everything. "Damon." "Laura." "You finished the book." "Yes." "Can I read it now." I was quiet for a long time. "Yes," I said. She took the box.

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

Her mind paved the way for different thoughts that made her feel she was a bad person. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, long breath. She released the breath and opened her eyes, motivating herself. “Everything is fine,” She remembered Malachi’s words, and a smile found its way to display on her face. “I am a good person. My smile glitters people’s lives. I should continue to be generous…” She cracked up and suddenly burst into a laughter that lasted for a minute. After she stopped laughing, she wondered what was wrong that would warrant such laughter, but she couldn’t give herself an answer.

Rose Murdock's POV By the time I came back to my senses and quickly hung up the phone, I had already heard more than enough. There was a sheet of paper lying on the carpet. I picked it up—it was a medical report. The diagnosis read end-stage heart failure. In the patient column, the name written there was Adrian Sanders, the same one I had just heard on the phone. That was when I remembered the recent news regarding the leader of the pack's most powerful mercenary corps, Orion. He had suddenly announced that he would hand over his authority to his deputy.

Then he read the other spines. “Woolf. Munro. Ishiguro.” “I read differently for work than for pleasure,” she said. He took the glass from her. “What are you reading now?” She told him. He had not read it. She described it briefly and watched him absorb the information carefully, the same way he absorbed everything else. “I am reading something I avoided for years,” he said. “What is it.” “A memoir by a fighter I admired when I started out.” “Why avoid it.”

If the past was anywhere, it would be there. Then one random audio file caught my eye. It was hours long, I didn’t remember recording it at all. My finger hovered for a second before I pressed play. As the audio filled the room, my breath hitched. I recognized my own voice and then his. That’s when it hit me, I had recorded my last day with Bryain. I sat frozen, listening as everything unfolded. The laughter. The quiet moments and then the part that made my chest tighten—the moment my memories were taken from me.

"You're breaking our ears!" The room went dead silent as they stared at the camera again. Grandfather turned to his microphone and spoke quietly. "Can you hear me?" Thank God, I could hear his voice! Somehow, it actually translated to my computer mind as his voice, not just words in a data stream. "Your memories of his voice are automatically converting from what comes through the microphone into what you remember of his voice," Mirele told me as she examined a few other files. "We're not paying a bit of attention to our bodies, but they're still there, and the wiring was designed to convince our brains to translate things in ways that we would understand."