Memorable Moment Artinya Novels & Stories

The professor turned to me, “Mr Whitmore?” I groaned out loud, and a hand slapped my face. “What?” “It’s your turn.” Wonderful; just fucking wonderful. Normally, I wouldn’t participate until we had to paint or draw up a report on a book. Even though I never red anything fiction, and spent more time in the art room, I was a fast learner. And no, it…it’s not because of Genevieve. Her answer lingered in my head, and before I realized what I was doing, I spoke. “A story or an art piece, sometimes both, becomes memorable when it lives past the ending; past the epilogue in the minds of its readers.”

**** ~ Flashback ~ Before heading to the library, Evelina and Rissa are on their way to the opposite end of the class to the library. Evelina walks and she stops from her path, she just remembers that there was something she forgot. Seeing Evelina's reaction stop, Rissa asks her. "Eve, what's wrong? Is there anything you left in the classroom?" "No, I forgot something. That actually, I wanted to return the book in the library," she replied.

Was it enough to be remembered after you forgot yourself? "It's more than enough," I said finally. "Because the art of living isn't about holding onto memories. It's about creating moments worth remembering, even if you can't remember them yourself." James smiled behind the camera. "That's perfect. We'll use that for the ending." "The ending?" "Of the documentary. The perfect final line." But I barely heard him. My mind was already drifting again, the moment of clarity fading back into fog. Hope squeezed my hand. "You did great, Mom."

He said and the room erupted in a loud cheer and applause. The spotlight immediately shifted to Lorraine, she shot the crowd a gleeful smile and said "Hi, I'm Lorraine Davis and welcome to my gallery. You don't know what this means to me as an artist and a person to see you all appreciate my art like this, and I hope my works will find places in your home" At this time, Clay approached her holding Edith and stood beside her. Lorraine shifted her gaze to them, smiled and said "I call this Gallery, The Memorabilia, dedicated to my late brother because that is what it is to me. These paintings are all pieces of moments of my life and things I've felt and I hope that it brings you the same feeli

“For years, I tried to remember the sound of her voice, the way her laughter filled a room. But memories fade. And I realized… I was terrified of forgetting her.” A hush settled over the room. “This painting,” I gestured toward it, “is not just art to me. It’s my way of holding onto her. It’s every moment I wished she was still here, every time I’ve longed to feel her arms around me again.” A lump formed in my throat, but I pushed through. “To some, this is just a portrait. But to me? It’s everything I have left of her.” The room was silent. Some collectors leaned in, taking in every detail, murmuring among themselves. Then, applause broke out.

Just present. “Hmm… I’m not sure yet,” I admitted honestly. He firmly nodded, as if he had expected my response. “Most people either love it immediately or walk past it, you gat to know it to love it.” I glanced back at the painting. “What is it supposed to be?” “Memory,” he said simply. “Or the distortion of it.” That made me freeze for a moment, my eyes lingering on it like I was trying to solve an unseen mystery. “I would love a job here.” I uttered, turning to face him.

Flashback Scene: Elena stared at the art piece in front of her, her eyes traced every intricate brush stroke, she remembered every single one of it. She looked behind her, it was a slow day at the gallery, there were only a few people around. They were all too preoccupied with the “symphony of light”. She couldn’t blame them, it was a beautiful piece of art from a renowned artist.

Mark said pretty much excited and before I could say no, he was out of sight, "Hmm" I sighed softly,I miss her, I missed her so much. If wishes were horses, if only wishes were horses. Hey guysssss!!! Chapter 18 is out! Yes.. I know it took me weeks to update but remember something, I did anyways lol😝😝 I sincerely apologise for the late update,I hope you keep believing in my writing,"Memories" is an amazing story, I hope you stay put in this journey of memories. Thanks y'all for the support and encouragement, thanks so much. Thanks for taking out your to read this story, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Enjoy 😎😎 Don't forget to vote, comment and share. Thanks Xoxo

As promised, Kemal Daraç's message came in: “I'm still tracking you. Don't worry, you're in safe hands.” I exhaled slowly and typed a short reply: “Okay, thank you, sir.” It was now time for the panel. Myself and five other members of the panel and I walked to the stage. No rush. Just elegance all the way. When it was my turn to speak, the questions came quickly. About art. About meaning. About the future. “Art,” I said into the microphone, “has never been about survival alone. It’s about memory. About refusal. About choosing to leave something behind that says, "I was here, and I felt something worth preserving.””

"Mia, I'm so proud of you. This moment is a testament to your talent, passion, and resilience. Remember, no matter the outcome, your art has touched the hearts of those who have had the privilege to witness it." With those words, the gallery director approached, welcoming the guests and announcing the beginning of the exhibition. As I watched people move from one painting to another, their faces reflecting a myriad of emotions, a sense of fulfillment washed over me. In the midst of this chaotic and ever-changing world, art remained a constant, an eternal beacon of hope and inspiration. And as I stood there, surrounded by the fruits of my creativity, I realized that the journey was never abou