Memory Of Us Novels & Stories

"Fuck memory loss right now. I know what I didn't do!" What?

But wait there's more, why does my memory was coming back one by one, I feel my body, and there's a new power inside of me,

KANE “Where the f*ck do I start? This place is a mess.” ‘We aren’t in yet, Kane.’ ‘I’m not blind.’ ‘But your memory is. I can bet on a thousand bucks that you don’t remember this place.’ ‘Keep your mouth shut f*cker.’ But the f*cker was right. I have memory problems and only remember the things I have to. How was I meant to know I had to store this sh*thole in my memory? ‘Use your mouth for something useful and tell me how we get in here.’

He just watched me, waiting, some of the fight draining out of his posture as exhaustion took its place. "My memory returned three weeks ago," I said. "Almost exactly. Not fragments. Not pieces surfacing slowly the way I let you believe. All of it, arriving over the course of maybe two days, sharp and complete and utterly unwelcome." "Three weeks," Matteo repeated, quiet.

"Memory is imperfect." "Mine is not." I leaned forward. "I can recite the weather report my wife read to me on March fourteenth. I can tell you the song Mabel hummed while cleaning my room on April second. I can quote, word for word, the bedtime story Shaznay told our unborn child three weeks before I woke up." I held his gaze. "My memory is not imperfect, Mr. Okafor. It is impeccable. Because for seven months, listening was the only thing my brain could do." Okafor retreated. "No further questions."

"Mr. Pierce, there's nothing wrong with the equipment." Brody's expression grew even darker. He waved his hand dismissively. "The particle coloring might have technical errors, but the memories are absolutely real! Play the core memories immediately." The massive dark screen slowly lit up. White light flooded out, and my soul trembled. The image showed the cramped, rundown apartment we'd rented together after graduation.

She said, “Brooks. I will hang up if you start making comments like that." I said I'm sorry I got carried away cutie. She told me not to let it happen again. I said well can I talk about memories I have of us? Can I ask you questions? She said I could but I wasn't allowed to bring up one specific night. I said I promise not to talk about it. I laid back on the bed and said remember the day we met? She said, “Yes I remember the day we met. I remember every detail. I forgot to take my pill that day and when I remembered, I was feeling excited so I skipped taking it."

"Do you really want to know how much pain I have felt back then?" Zoey nodded. "Hmm." "I blamed myself, Zoey. Like you, I kept dreaming a bad dream but it was about the morning that I had found grandpa's body lying dead inside my room. But, you know what's funny? I have a fucking photographic memory." "Photographic memory? Is that. ." "Photographic memory is the ability to recall a past scene in detail with great accuracy, just like a photograph, even days or weeks or months after you saw the object."

"We believe that the cerebrum stores all the memories. Only that the recent past and the present ones are much stronger than the ones for the long past which we are going to try and find then the machine will record them." "Are you positive that it would work?" "We are yet to know. You are our first patient, remember? I was careful to include that in the mail. But, if at all anything, you are free to back off." I stayed silent, thinking of my next step. I wanted to know what happened to me but was I ready to take the risk? I wanted to know what my parents looked like, I really did. I wanted to know how the hell I lost my memory and how I ended up with an old couple.

Emma: Year: 2002 As memories are known to be lost throughout the process of growth, we still may have those special ones that just stick. It’s so ingrained into our memory that it is shocking we can even remember it. So the question is, did it really happen? And why is that we always remember the bad ones?