Memories Letter Novels & Stories

She didn’t speak after that. Didn’t have to because she understood what I meant. Alice wanted a war. She was about to learn what it meant to fight someone who’d already burned their soul to ash to win. The following morning, I received an envelope. No return address just my name in clean, deliberate lettering. I opened it carefully, expecting threats. Instead, I found a single page inside. No letterhead, no signature just one printed line: He remembers more than you think. I stared at it for a full minute before setting it down on the table.

Scurry. I ran going to the kitchen to make dinner, my hands were shaking and it couldn't stop and while cooking I hurt myself twice Fuck this. I thought then suddenly remembered that letter with just a word but held so many memories. July.

Don't be stupid—" But before he could finish his little speech, Michael's voice boomed from the stage. He said slowly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, "Actually, I already knew Aurora was at that party." The whole room froze. Audrey, my parents, and even I were stunned. Wait. Did that mean he remembered me that night? Even under the influence of the drug? My chest tightened as a bad feeling prickled at me. Audrey, though, thought Michael was finally speaking in her defense. Her chin lifted high again, her voice smug and loud.

I replied, forcing steadiness into the words. “You’ll adjust,” she insisted, giving me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The memories will come back. They always do.” But as she spoke, my attention drifted to the corner of my desk where a stack of documents waited. An unexpected tremor passed through me. A letter sat in the midst...camouflaged in between the work documents. My fingers moved before thoughts could catch them, sliding the folder open. Documents rustled. Trip itineraries. Receipts. A folded sheet tucked between pages, the edges softened from being touched more than once.

He propped himself up on his elbows, making the mauve sheets crinkle beneath him, and started reading the letter, “24th February 2014 To Jonathan, I am sorry Jonathan for being the way that I am. It’s been such a long time since we have gotten together and I am still not able to open up about my past. It’s difficult for me to talk about my parents even though I can’t remember much about them. I have vague memories of my life with them after all I was only ten when they passed away. I remember my mom’s tinkling laugh and father’s heavy voice. I remember how my mom used to sing me to sleep and I remember how my father used to tickle me till I woke up. But along with them I also remember how th

I just stared at the side table and there I noticed a white sheet of paper so I took it and opened it. It was my Mom's letter. Lilie, I know you will be mad at me after what I did. But I want you to remember that you need to be strong and once you read it, I hope you will forgive me. Mama wants to say sorry to you. Please, don't be like me, I already gave up. Always remember that, no matter how life drained your energy, I want you to be strong and brave. Always remember that. I love you. I know one day or someday we will see each other again in another life, where there is no pain and misery. I'm scared that I will forget you, but I know that in your heart I will always be there.

She asked and leaned back in her chair. "There's not much to talk about." Alissa dodged. “I had a lovely childhood and I have fond memories of it. My parents loved each other and we were a happy little family. Then when I was sixteen my father died, my mother couldn't stand it alone and a short time later got married again. But this man wasn't nearly as loving as my father. At some point I couldn't take it at home any longer and I ran away. ”She took a moment and Hannah looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry. But what did you do when you weren't home? You were still so young, didn't you have to go to school? "

"Happy to see me? I'm your coworker now!" "It's so good to have you here." I smiled and pulled her in for a hug, feeling glad to have a friend by my side at work. "By the way, how much do you remember about the past?" she curiously asked after we let go. I frowned and tried to recall, but a lot of memories were missing. Seeing my troubled expression, she gently explained, "You took a memory loss pill and forgot many things. If you can't remember, don't force it."

When I look at it, I wish I hadn’t. “YOU CAN’T TRUST HIM OR YOUR MEMORIES.” The statement is spelled out in cut-out letters. I drop the letter to the floor. The first letter scared me, but this one scares me more because now it’s telling me that I can’t trust my memory. If I can’t trust that or Bryce, then what can I trust? Who the hell is sending me these letters? I pick the letter off the floor and place it in the drawer next to the bed.

Dear Owen, I’m sending this letter to you three months after the first time I received the treatment to erase my unhappy memories. By this time, the letters I’ve sent to your mother might have lessened or stopped completely because I predict I won’t be able to recall any of the events that happened during the time I’ve worked for your family.