Memory Of Us Novels & Stories

What the heck? "Where is she?" I asked. "She is in our house together with your aunt Maricel," she answered. "Who is aunt Maricel?" I am confused as hell. What is happening? My mother sighed. "They should really check your skull and brain, you have amnesia! You forgot your aunt Maricel, the only daughter of your grandma and grandpa, the only sibling of your Papa." Papa is their only child as far as I know before I was transported in 1950. Something really changed, I changed something in past!

ask of him and I can't turn back now that there's a chance to get it. “Alright, lay back.” I did as he say. Ryder picked the remote from the TV console, turned on the TV and searched through a series of movies before he finally clicked on one. It's a movie as it plays, it shows a girl. Minutes into it. I noticed what it was. A girl narrating a p**n. She began to speak. I could remember the events vividly in my memory like it happened yesterday. Anytime I close my eyes, I let my mind wander off to that night. I mean, I just couldn't get it off my brain. It's the first time I'll be experiencing that so the memory got stuck in my brain. You might wonder what I couldn't get out of my memory. So

It was astonishing, and I could hardly believe it. When she turned away from me, I quickly hopped on her back. I turned off the flashlight and put it in my pants pocket. I tightly hugged her broad back, and she began to run towards the faint light visible in the distance. WHEN I reached the place, my attention was immediately drawn to Amara, and in front of her was a man I didn't recognize. My world seemed to slow down when our gazes met. Memories played in my mind—the memories of her mercilessly killing my parents. It keeps replaying repeatedly in my mind. I don't want to see it anymore. I don't like it. But I can't erase it from my memory.

Growing larger with every passing second. The First Memory suddenly gasped. "No." Everyone turned. The woman had gone pale. "What?" Nova asked. The First Memory pointed upward. "The spiral." Silence. Then her voice trembled. "I've seen it before." The city froze. Origin turned sharply. The First Memory swallowed. "My earliest memory." Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Because the First Memory remembered things no one else could. Things older than civilizations. Older than worlds. Origin stepped closer. "Tell me." The woman looked terrified.

Telling myself I was protecting her by understanding? The most disturbing thought isn’t that someone might have been tracking me. It’s that at some point, I cooperated. Not knowingly. Not maliciously. But systematically. I scroll down. One last email. The date is recent. Much more recent than the others. The subject line makes my chest tighten. Subject: Update — memory recall event (urgent) I don’t remember writing this. I open it. The email is short. Too short. She remembered something today. White room. Lights. Voices. This is new. Advise next steps.

I closed my eyes briefly, gripping the edge of the door. “Then why doesn’t she remember me?” I whispered. “We don’t know that it’s permanent,” Mike replied. “Shock can do strange things. Trauma can scramble memory temporarily. That’s why they’re running tests.” I stepped out into the night air, locking the door behind me. My movements were automatic now. “I’m still coming,” I said. “I figured.” “But slow down,” Mike urged. “You don’t need to tear down the highway. Getting there five minutes earlier won’t change what already happened.”

In that moment, a flood of memories from four years ago washed over me, each one resurfacing with vivid clarity. The room became a canvas upon which the past unfolded, revealing a tapestry of emotions and events that had shaped my life. In the enchanting realm of memories, four years ago, I held the illustrious title of Missus Summer Ramey Carter, a bewitching embodiment of grace and elegance. Amidst of my existence, I was entangled in a profound love, a love that tragically eluded the discerning eyes of a man unable to fathom the depths of my intrinsic value. As memories kept flashing back, a sudden noise and the sound of a slamming door jerked me out of my painful daydream.

Sure she was an American, a texan infact but she couldn't remember how it felt like to be in the United States. Marcus had told her that they lived in Washington for a couple of years before they married and moved to New Zealand for Marcus'job. To her, she was going back to her roots for the first time. How did New York look like? Had she been to New York? And if she, had been to New York, did she know anyone there? Could New York finally hold the memories that she had lost? "Unlike a temporary episode of memory loss, amnesia can be permanent," her doctor, Rory had stated.

“Why not?” “I … I can’t remember anything.” Her eyes fell to the ground. It’s not that she couldn’t remember, it’s just … she didn’t want to remember anything about it. Her dark past had been haunting her, chasing her wherever she went. She was scared. Her fear would consume her and bring back all the trauma. Her entire life she had avoided recalling every bit of memory from her parents. And she’s fine with little or nothing to remember at all. “Wait.” Estevan opened his backpack and, later on, pulled out a notepad. “I’ve read a book before—back in my country and took some notes out of it. Here,” he said, pointing at a page. “It’s called Meditation Memory Recall.”

My mind is racing with memories of our past, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react. #################