Memories In Cursive Novels & Stories

Memory recall improves under controlled stress. I flip the page. The handwriting is Livia’s. I know it now. Angular. Precise. Letters leaning slightly forward like they’re always trying to get somewhere else. But this is not the handwriting of a woman working in an archive. This is the handwriting of someone documenting survival. Another page. A drawing. Not art. Not expressive. Technical. A human figure sketched in pencil, joints marked, eyes circled again and again until the paper thins. Lines radiate from the head like pressure points.

I pressed my lip because there were too many things in the world and I couldn’t know what they all were if I had only two weeks of memories. “Why can’t we go in alphabetical order?” I asked as I rubbed the card like I could feel the fur. The doctor had cards that had different types of fur and scales on them but he didn’t use them much. “If we went in alphabetical it would be easy for you to guess.” He said disapprovingly. I didn’t understand why we even bothered having me guess. There were so many items In the world and it was hard to think of all of the definitions. What about this?” He asked as he held up a big black and white fish. “It’s a big fish.” I said with a small smile. That one w

Then, he reaches for the keyboard. I don't look at the screen. The screen tells you nothing until it unlocks. I watch his hands. His fingers are pale, stained with ink. They hover over the keys. He types fast. Muscle memory. Left hand, pinky. Bottom row. V. Right hand, middle finger. Top row. I. Right hand, index finger. Bottom row. N. Left hand, middle finger. Bottom row. C. Left hand, middle finger. Top row. E. Left hand, index finger. Top row. R.

But on page nine, covering a two-week period four months into the log, the initials were slightly different. Not different enough to catch at a glance. The R was the same. The first curve of the E matched. But the pressure was wrong — lighter on the downstrokes, heavier on the horizontal, the specific signature of someone who'd studied the original and reproduced it carefully but hadn't been able to fully replicate the unconscious muscle memory of it. Someone else had signed those two weeks of entries. Someone who wasn't Dr. Reeves. I photographed the page separately. Annotated it in my notes app with the specific difference marked. Then I went back through the other fifteen pages looking fo

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

Making memories is important to others. ___________________________ Now, today is Haru's birthday, and this is what Carmen, Tyler, and Nicole really don't want because they know in themselves that they will only have a few hours or days to hide what they know from everyone. Tyler looked around and here he saw the laughing Nikki and their colleagues in the hospice, his gaze turned to Arche's father and Katelyn's current wife, who was grilled, then his gaze turned to Katelyn and Callista, that the mother and daughter were playing happily, and last, he turned his gaze back to Nicole and Jasper were watching sadly looking at Arche and Haru, who were laughing happily.

Mary leaned closer to her and said quietly. "Your Grace, can I go sit down at your desk? I don't feel like I can contribute much to the discussion." the Lady smiled at Mary. "I think it's time you called me Tariana, Mary, and of course you can go and sit at the desk. I would have avoided this discussion if I wasn’t obligated to listen," she said. Mary smiled back and stood up and excused herself before quickly walking towards the desk. For a while, Mary sat and just looked at the paper, the ink, and the cut quills. She had not had the opportunity to write on paper with a real pen since she had lived at home with her parents. Carefully, she took out a sheet of the paper, picked up a pen and d

Their bond was the foundation of everything, a deep, quiet understanding that needed no words. But lately, Kaelen had noticed something. He was in the archives one afternoon, helping the new historians—young men and women with bright, curious eyes—categorize the records from the years just after the crystallization. He reached for a specific scroll, a record of the first Remembrance Hour. He could see it in his mind's eye: the rough texture of the paper, the slightly smudged ink from the scribe's nervous hand. His fingers closed on empty air.

"If I’m still alive, then it can’t be that bad!” Aunt laughed and said, "Summer, you're going to live a very long life!" The surgery had gone really well. The doctor said I might lose some memories, but I still recognized everyone I had seen so far. Even though I sometimes felt like I had forgotten some things, I did not really want to remember them anyway. In fact, I thought forgetting might make me even happier. Once I was out of danger, I moved to a regular room. With Aunt looking after me, I started feeling better really fast.

I started flipping the pages quickly, my fingers trembling slightly against the paper. I began counting them. On page fifty, there was another one. On page fifty-four, another. By the time I hit page seventy-two, I found fourteen separate responses scattered across thirty pages. And it got worse. It was not even just one person. There were two completely distinct handwriting styles. One was that sharp, right-slanted print. The other was a loose, almost illegible cursive that looked like it was written by someone in a massive hurry. They had been quietly continuing a conversation with me across multiple pages, answering my thoughts, reacting to my vents, and talking to each other through my n