Memories In Cursive Novels & Stories

’ I heard a voice say to me from the room. I walked in a bit shy, I don’t know how to compose myself around him, was it because he was cute or because I’ve met him before. I thought to myself. He always put up a smile, he was different from everyone. He kept smiling and made work easy for everyone except for the fact I was a bit shy of him. But it was cool to have him as my boss. Good afternoon, sir, I said to him. Yeah Meghan, how can I help you? He responded while going through the early morning papers. This was his morning routine; the days’ newspaper must be on his desk every morning. He was quite intelligent and I admire him a lot at the conference hall. The way he talked about numbers

For her it was a normal conversation like every time. She was at her previous place, from the other day. Her hand was holding a pencil but not tight but the way he had taught her. Her eyes focused on the letters she was still learning to write. The alphabets were still uneven. But better than before. Her fingers traced over one letter slowly. Remembering what that world called and whispered to herself as if trying to learn it properly. A. Then B. Then C. She paused. Her lips moved slightly. Repeating what he had told her.

I was confused by the text he sent as I read it again. Wayne: Thank you again for saving my daughter last night. She was much calmer and we spoke to her for a while, but she didn't seem to remember you when your name came up. I know this might be hard but considering what she has been through it would be best if you give her a couple of days to recover. I can’t tell for sure how long it will take for the memories to come back. I hope you understand. Wayne

I ask Gabriel as soon as I walk into the house. I wound a couple of steps from the entrance, which my brother is responsible for closing, to remove from Gabriel's nose a hard glue journal affixed with dark calfskin. I smack when I read the engraving in fine, bright cursive letters on the front of the scratch pad: In your sweet memory. I open the scratch pad to the front page, noting Mom's ideal handwriting. What I read, her words brimming with torment, make my vision blur as a result of rapidly accumulating tears.

I had not seen that handwriting in years, but it was one ingrained in my deepest, dearest memories. Grandma always wrote all her important letters by hand. She got teased about it being old-fashioned, but she made it into a proud style of hers. And here in my lap, was a letter…written by her. Gathering my strength, I picked it up with shaking fingers and straightened it. The full onslaught of that beautiful cursive sent tears filling my eyes, but I held it back to read what was written boldly at the top. ‘OFFICIAL WILL OF MONICA MANOR’

And, scribbled on the back in shaky handwriting: “Thank you for remembering me. Even when I forgot myself.” A.

I know I should be looking for Celia. But this journal has answers that to the questions I need. It's a diary, Lu's Mother's diary, and it starts off with her first pregnancy, the child before Lu. The dates are smudged, and I struggle to read her swirling letters, as she wrote in an old font that no longer exists. Cursive, I believe the word was. I traced the words with my fingers, trying to get them in the correct order, sounding out each letter until the proper word fits.

There was still a barrier that stood between her and these piles of codes even though she should have recovered her memory. It felt surreal even after she finished writing a line of code. She couldn’t help but wonder if the code she wrote was nothing more than a line of nonsense. However, her fingers continued working as if they were moving on their own, surviving on motor memory that was seared into her brain. Things became clearer as more completed code began to appear on the screen. Her confidence grew as time went on until her fingers were dancing swiftly over the keyboard. Caroline was lost in the moment.

**** ~ 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.

I opened it, and my stomach did a slow, sick flip. The handwriting was a nightmare. It was a cramped, cursive script, full of loops and slanted lines that looked more like barbed wire than letters. To my eyes, it was a moving target. The words didn't just sit there, they vibrated, the "f"s and "s"s tangling together until the page looked like a map of a forest I’d never find my way out of. Disbursement... Asset Recovery... I tried to type the first entry, but my hand cramped. The letters on the screen didn't match the movements of my fingers. I deleted the line. Then I deleted it again.