Memorial Lane Book Novels & Stories

Elara Moonstone When I woke up, the room was empty. The evidence of what we had done stained the bed. I turned my eyes, letting the feeling wash over me. I felt different, freer. Almost like there was a line that had been reconnected to something I didn't even know was there. “Meet me in the library in 30 minutes” I heard a voice clearly in my head. I looked around the room, but no one was there; it was just me in the room. “It's me; we have been linked” I heard Luca's voice clearly this time around.

"Hold on. I think ... I think I know this language." "What?" Alec comes around to my side and inspects the part of the coin I'm looking at. "What is it?" I shake my head. "I don't know, but it ... it feels so familiar." Damon's eyes widen. "Do you think you can translate it?" I nod. "I think so." I close my eyes, letting the inscriptions on the coin float to the front of my mind. It's like trying to remember a dream or a long-forgotten memory. The more I concentrate, the more the inscriptions come into focus.

He got to his feet, suddenly bursting with feigned excitement, "Elena, now I remember! We came here together that year. It was my birthday, and there was this long line of happy couples, just like us, waiting to get married." He knew that was the happiest day of my life. Up until now, he was still playing on my heartstrings, convinced that just by bringing up 'that day,' I would never have the heart to leave him. Before, whenever he screwed up, he would skate by on the coattails of our so-called happy memories. However, not this time. I caught him red-handed, plotting to fake amnesia to trick me, and I overheard Sebastian spill the beans about the so-called blissful marriage I was so proud o

ELEVEN I don’t remember much about the ride home. Bobby and I barely spoke as he drove wordlessly, staring down the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his copy of The King Wears Yellow. And me? To be honest, I can’t exactly remember, to this day. I think . . . I believe . . . I must’ve spent the ride flipping through my copy of the book. Even that is still a mystery to me. How I could’ve been walking aimlessly through the bookstore one moment, scorning Reverend McIlvian and his healing powers, and the next unconsciously buying his book, of all things.

Cleto pushed further, laughing out louder than before. I subconsciously rubbed the bandaged hand where she had put the knife through. I remembered her sly smirk before leaving as she dug her nails into the injury like the sick-headed woman she was, her expression which for some reason had stayed glued to the back of my head since that day. Just like she left the same feeling with me three years ago, one which I had tried so hard to forget then.

"What will the book be about?" "Me." She says. "A memoir. It's about my life but mostly how I stumbled into a man and fell inlove with him only to find out he was my blood brother. And also it will be like an exposè. I'll expose The Lane family for the horrible hypocrites they are!" Silence stretches between us for a moment. I sip the coffee slowly. Lana stares at me sharply. "Say something." "I don't think you'll like what I have to say."

⸻ Yet one title remained visible. MEMORY ZERO ⸻ 😱😱😱 ⸻ 🌙 The First Mystery Returns The moment the title appeared… Ilyaan froze. ❤️ ⸻ Because Memory Zero had started everything. ⸻ The first mystery. ⸻ The first question. ⸻ The first crack in certainty. ⸻ The first impossible thing. ⸻ And somehow… It had survived. ⸻ 🌙 The Lost Pages The book slowly opened.

I only had a year to find my answers, no distractions was a good way to start. "Venus, honey, are you ready?" My mom called me from the kitchen, as I opened my bedroom door. "Yes, mom be right there." I called back. Walking towards the kitchen, I was singing Famous Last Words out loud. "I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone, honey if you stay I'll be forgiven, Nothing you can say can stop me going home. Can you see my eyes are shining bright? Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror and I'm so weak..."

And chaos is just fear wearing a different mask. --- The mail comes at noon. Bills. A catalog. A letter from Mireille — she and Hana are traveling through Italy, eating pasta, arguing about directions. She sounds happy. The kind of happiness that comes from choosing something instead of running from it. There's also a package. Brown paper, no return address. I open it on the porch. Inside, a book. A memoir. The cover is simple — a photograph of the Seine at dawn, gray and gold and beautiful. The title: The CEO Already Knew.

“Who sent you here?” “My name is John, and I am…” Before John could complete his statement, Malachi came out of the gate and interrupted. “He is the driver I ordered. He will walk for us throughout the day.” Tasha shook her head, comprehending. “Okay.” “Will you enter now?” Malachi beamed. “Yes.” Tasha smiled and entered the car. Malachi entered at through the other side, and John entered, and drove off. ******** Thirty-eight minutes later, the car arrived at Brook’s restaurant; the biggest restaurant in the city.