Memories Stories Novels & Stories

Mom cried “Mom! I’m not sick. Why do we need a doctor?” She cried again “Calm down.” I went near her “It’s me.” I hugged her and I cried “I miss you so much.” “No, you’re lying. My brother doesn’t love me.” “I love you.” I said “He loves you so much. You’re his princess remember?” “No. I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t leave me if I am his princess.” She sobbed A doctor came to check her. “What happened to her right now is a trauma. Because she tried to drown herself, memories may come back to her whenever she is sad.” The doctor said

My fingers caressed the colored notes in my hands and the familiar feeling of longing overwhelmed me. FLASHBACK NARRATIVE ~16 years ago~ *Aidan's Elementary School* A little boy ran into the class of about fifteen kids. "Y'all!" He called the attention of his mates. "I heard 'boo hoo' couldn't get his fees paid. Boo-hoo!" He went to stand in front of a petite boy of around the same age as himself, blocking the little boy's view and taking his books from him.

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

“I wonder if your mother would’ve changed her mind and named you something else if she would’ve known your name didn’t quite match your personality.” “It’s not my personality,” Memory corrected. “I just get... distracted. I can remember important things. Like people’s birthdays. And favorite colors. And recipes for snickerdoodle cookies—even if I don’t remember to take them out before they burn.” “Now that I’m glad you can remember,” Bryce agreed. “Well, I should get to work.” “What’s that?” Memory asked, noticing a flyer in his hand. The red and green trim looked similar to the one she’d seen blowing down the street earlier.

she asked. Her question stunned me even more. Why had I forgotten that I still had memories to remember? I shook my head and inhaled deeply. “This isn’t a good joke! Stop!” I yelled, but my voice was only echoed. F-ck. What exactly does she want to happen? “Memories are places where your life can change.” I was still shaking and trying to get up because I would rather not hear what she was saying. “Memories that will make your heart angry, memories that will open your mind to the fact that what happened to you was not a game.”

“It’s called Meditation Memory Recall.” “Will that help me remember?” “It might. Basically, you’ll have to meditate and try to remember anything from your parents … their faces, voices, anything. Then you focus on an unforgettable scene with them. Let it play in your mind … it will slowly expand. You see, the memories in our heads are always linked to each other. If you unlock a memory, then you can slowly unlock the others, one at a time.”

Saying that quite out loud "When she awoke in a cold sweat, the darkness fresh inside and outside her mind, I would talk to her, speak words of encouragement in that high, teetering voice of mines until she made it to other end of the hall and to her mother’s room. You’re almost there. You’re almost there. No one had ever grown closer to her than me, no one had ever come closer to feeling like home." I sighed, that was her favorite story line from the book "Memories" by Dim Leon, I remember how much I hated reading that book, but she made me read her bed time stories. "I miss you every day Nuella" keeping aside a picture of hers, she was smiling at me that day, she looked so beautiful, she

And like any other book, as you travel through the pages, it's the highs and lows that keep you - the reader - enthralled, making the tale worth telling. When you hear stories of such sort, they stick to your mind in a way. The bad moments, the troubles and the twists are the ones that get stored in the long-term memory. The happy moments make you smile as you read through but they never stick, for happiness is a quite emotion that doesn't make a fuss in its wake. The realization that flashed in her eyes at the name I just mentioned, confirmed my theory. He was a man with a story worth telling. A story she couldn't forget even after all these years.

Another long draw out, probably filled with unnecessary additions. “But you immediately stood up and told her you were not the person she was looking for,” I finished the story for him. “I have heard that story like a thousand times.” “Hey, come on, I haven’t spoken about it that much," he rebutted. “I don’t think I have told you that story more than once. You just have a very good memory." “Maybe you just talk so much you cannot remember what you have said and what you haven’t.” “No way,” Anderson said in between laughs. “I don’t even talk that much."