Memories In Cursive Novels & Stories

Just looking at the chandelier placed in the middle of the house and the multiple paintings scattered on the wall will help you figure out that this is a house of a high class family. I took a glance at our family portrait, this screams elegance and power. I wonder what other people think whenever they see it. The wall of the corridor that I'm walking has different kinds of medals, trophies, and any proof of achievements of our family. It's a combination of academic and business awards. I really find it ridiculous seeing this in the hallway. It make me feel that we are too boastful of our achievements. My mom graduated summa cum laude and my father as magna cum laude. Me and my brother are

The cardboard cover had torn halfway down the front. “My old notes.” Asher flipped open the ripped cover. Inside, were page after page of handwritten notes in Asher’s meticulous handwriting. “I struggled with the memorization at first too. It’s much easier when you break it down like this.” He pointed to a sentence. The first letter of each word matched with a different part of the body. “Mnemonic devices are incredibly helpful,” Asher said. “I can help you with it sometime. But this will get you started.”

Reeves' desk like a hand of cards. "Some of these tests date as far back as freshman year. AP Biology. Honors English. Pre-Calculus. Chemistry. World History. Quite the extensive collection, wouldn't you say?" I was dumbfounded. Speechless. My brain couldn't process what I was seeing. I leaned forward, my hands hovering over the papers but not quite touching them, as if they somehow might burn me. I squinted at the handwriting—the loops on the 'g's, the way I crossed my 't's, the distinctive slant to my letters.

I pursued my older sister’s best friend relentlessly for three whole years before she finally agreed to a secret relationship with me. However, after five hidden years together, right as I was preparing to propose, I overheard a conversation between her and her friends. "Your first love is about to return to the country. How do you plan to handle that substitute boyfriend of yours?" "Make sure you have a solid excuse when you break up with him. Don't make it too ugly, or Cora will never forgive you if she finds out her little brother got hurt." After a long silence, she made her decision. "Then I'll just fake amnesia. I'll pretend I forgot the past five years. Since it was a secret relat

Cindy has no idea who he is but she loves him and he’s going to make this work. Cindy has developed her own memory tricks too, like writing things down and doing things over and over to put them into her rote memory. She and Gerard have a joint calendar they share on their phones so she knows the family's schedule. Cindy also now knows and remembers Gerard, Kayla and Gavin, and credits them with keeping her going.

I know the time because I had checked my watch at nine twenty-five with the specific instinct of a man who had spent his entire professional life tracking the timing of things and could not stop the reflex even when the tracking served no useful purpose anymore. My handwriting. On the screen behind her, large enough to be read from the back of the room, in the specific precise cursive I had used since I was seventeen years old and had never changed because it communicated the thing I had always wanted it to communicate, which was care and intention and the considered weight of the person producing it. My handwriting on a screen in a room full of people who were reading it.

Sarah’s laugh. It wasn’t just the sound. It was the rhythm — that half-second pause before the soft chuckle that only Sarah had. He remembered the time she’d written him a short memo after a presentation. The handwriting — clean, slanted, elegant, exactly like Sarah’s. The same loops, the same curl at the tail of her “y.” He’d stared at it for minutes, his hands shaking. Now, he clicked open his drawer and brought out the note, placing it beside one of Sarah’s old letters he had kept hidden all these years.

In the ordinary remembered. In the love remembered. Always. The manor was the heart remembered. The garden was the soul remembered. The light was the breath remembered. The love was the reason remembered. And it was remembered. The choice remembered. The light remembered. The love remembered. The being remembered. Always. And ever. And on. The welcome remembered. The warmth remembered. The infinite remembered. Forever. The cursed wolf was the first who remembered. The light was the remembering she was. Love was the reason she remembered.

“Positive.” He frowned as he flipped to the next page. “These are... incredibly heartfelt. And it’s my handwriting. But I… I don’t remember writing any of them.” “You really don’t remember?” He shook his head. “Not in the slightest. It’s like there’s a blank space where these memories should be.”

I just wanted a moment of silence, so I locked myself in my office, just staring at the dull wall in front of me while contemplating my next move. My thoughts went back to Adessa’s letter and then the handwritten instructions on the folder. My forehead creased when I realized the handwriting was different. The letter was written in print, while the note on the folders with her instructions was in beautiful cursive letters. I knew anyone could shift between the two handwritings, but she did sign her name in cursive on that goodbye letter. I couldn’t remember what it looked like, but I had to check. I knew she left. I knew she was moving on, but a part of me didn’t want to believe she was cutt