Memoir Of War Novels & Stories

Sighing, she turned her thoughts back towards the problems she now faced, allowing them to fill her. What would happen should war begin, would she ever see her friend again? What did John want with her mother? Tears slid down her cheeks, what would she do as the world twisted and changed before her very eyes, barely giving her a chance to come to grips with what she now knew. For if war did begin, would she be able to fight? And could she kill to protect those that she cared for? The questions looped and repeated as she rounded a corner, terrified that she would watch everyone that she ever knew die.

The war stopped. Not because the fighting ended. Not because the danger disappeared. ⸻ But because Lucian couldn’t move. ⸻ The memory refused to leave him. ⸻ “I will find you again.” ⸻ The words echoed endlessly inside his mind. ⸻ The battlefield became distant. Muted. ⸻ As if he were standing in two worlds at once. ⸻ One was the shattered mountain. The ancient war. The darkness. ⸻

"Do you really think you can fabricate footage with AI and make everyone believe you, Richard?" I gave a short, derisive laugh. "Oh, please. Why would I need to? Ever since Belgard earned its status as a Class A wine estate, the IVWA has installed microcameras throughout the building. Their equipment is state of the art. It records both video and audio in exceptionally high quality. "Only I have the authority to retrieve the footage. No one could have doctored it. We will know very soon what is real and what is not." The footage appeared on the screen within minutes. As expected, it cleared me completely. I had not used suggestive language with the employee, nor had anything sexual occurred

Evelina pulled a book out of her bag that she borrowed earlier in the school library. BAM!!! The thumping sound of the book she put on her desk, sounded very loud because the book was quite heavy and thick. Evelina checks the book and she realizes that she borrowed so much. She didn’t expect that the books borrowed by her were enough. So, no wonder Rissa commented on this morning. “Let’s see what books I just borrowed ...,” murmured while sorting out the book. “There’s a Sherlock Holmes novel, Her Last Word, A Time Return, ... and finally you’re my butterfly?”

His elegant, flowing script detailed the paranoia of the European witch trials, the mud and blood of the trenches in the Great War, and the blinding, horrific ash of Hiroshima. One particular ledger from the mid-twentieth century made her hand tremble. In it, Lucian recounted the liberation of the camps during the Holocaust. His words were devoid of his usual aristocratic detachment, replaced instead by a profound, weeping sorrow for the millions of lives snuffed out by mortal cruelty. He wrote of the scent of burning ash, the hollow eyes of the survivors, and the terrifying realization that his own monstrous nature paled in comparison to what humans could do to one another. No wonder he is

“I’m an old woman. The war between the lands has made me seen things that I shouldn’t. I’m honored to have a chosen Luna in my midst before I die, if you bring peace to the land then I’ll be happy. An old lass as myself can hold onto hope.” Merida’s words sparked something inside of me. Tears almost welled up in my eyes. She was so kind and thoughtful, the first person in my entire years of living to actually believe in me. I was going to pass the trial, just to cheat my clear course towards death and fulfill the destiny I barely wanted. “I’m ready.” I called out to Buck who was right outside my door after Merida left. The door opened and Lucien came in. He’d changed into a simple shirt and

I can only conclude because this is not written in the diary either. "Does Duna actually know what a diary is?" I complained. After storing the ID Card and mercenary ID in the drawer, I took some packets of cookies from the cupboard and read the diary again. If I look again, the first few pages have been torn. Maybe Duna used to write a diary, but suddenly made this book into a notebook. Starting from the Xenobeast category, mercenary system, base system, to how to use guns and laser swords. January 27, 3043

“Let’s go.” By the time we’d found Dad, I had my emotions back in check. I was right – all we’d needed was a distraction. I felt bad about Michael, and a bit guilty that I wasn’t sat sobbing over the loss of him, but we hadn’t been that close. And it wasn’t like he was the first person I’d lost. My muscles pulled taut at the memories trying to drag me away, but I held myself firm. I clenched my hand into a fist under the table, images of the war flashing through my mind’s eye. It had been bloody and underhanded, devastating on both sides, and…

his hand flew in front of him like he was trying to slice me— “you waltz in here with your ego believing it’s life or death. You have no idea what I’ve been through.” My teeth clenched together. “Life or death? Let me tell you about life and death, buddy. I’ve bled for men who thought they were gods reincarnated. I’ve buried good men while they smiled down at us stuck in their holes of despair.” My tongue licked my suddenly dry lips as the taste of battlefield flooded my mouth with nostalgia, hatred even. “You have no idea what I’ve been through in the face of war.” He narrowed his eyes but I wasn’t done.

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