Mission Memories Novels & Stories

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?

The one when we are christmas dinner at Wu’s the last year and our skating videos and backstage videos we’d post to our instagram story highlights. That was the purpose of a remembrance. Not to cry but to acknowledge that you’ve moved and o and to realize how far you’ve come while you grieved. It’s to celebrate the life and death of someone you loved, someone you didn’t wished had died. And that brought back the thoughts of— ‘what if i had died when she jumped in front of that car?’ ‘was i really going to put my people through the same trauma. And will they forget about me like they seemingly did to Ruby after a year?’

--- Part III – First Session in Ashwood By first light, the village square of Ashwood held ash-streaked families—survivors, children whose parents died, grandparents who had shelves of grief but no words. A sense of dread mingled with reluctant hope. Miri stepped forward, meeting the eyes of one person at a time. “We come to listen. Share what you remember. Decide what you bring forward.” She glanced at Tulen. “We’ll record your memory, not for politics, but for legacy.”

“Jeoff, these are memories. We need to document it.” “What would you do with those memories, it will be gone soon. It will part of the past and never going to happen again.” Ouch. Yeah. That’s the sad part of it. Reason why there is a statement, Live within the moment. Cherish the moment you have right now. “Why are you acting so bitter? Memories is not about it will no longer to happened, Jeoff. It was a remembrance that you live on that particular time. At least you got something to look at to remember the real feeling, you feel on that moment.”

Each recollection was a bittersweet journey through the labyrinth of their friendship, where laughter intertwined with tears, and dreams with the reality of loss. As Sandra sifted through the trove of shared memories, she found solace in the familiarity of their childhood adventures—the escapades that had once painted the canvas of their youth with vibrant hues. The echoes of their laughter, the whispered secrets exchanged under the moonlit sky, and the unspoken bond that had fortified their friendship were now cherished fragments of a past forever frozen in time.

My mind reeled, struggling to process the implications of these long-forgotten memories. The memories came flooding back, each one a vivid snapshot of a moment in time. I remembered lazy afternoons spent watching the sunset together, sharing laughter and stories over dinner, and playful moments of splashing in the crystal-clear waters of my lagoon. The recollections were so real, so tangible, that I felt like I was reliving them all over again. I clutched at my chest, as if trying to physically contain the onslaught of memories, each one tumbling forth like a wave crashing on the shore. Countless moments, countless memories of Haven and me, of a life I thought I'd long forgotten.

"Preliminaries start in summer in Japan. If we are unable to attend, you can stay a little longer to see the start of the Spring Tournament." His eyes widened, then he broke into a small smile. "Thank you." It's not that he was opposed to going back to Japan, nor didn't he want to go either. There was just something unsettling for him to go back without a proper memory of what happened. He was rather afraid of the responses he would get.

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 doctor stated confidently. A sentence came into my mind that had me looking up at the doctor with wide eyes. "I know how to open up a door. You have to turn the door handle." I stated confidently. That's why the door handle giggled, it needed to be turned. "It's a door knob sweet heart. Not a handle." My father stated as he pressed his lips together. "Turn the door knob." I whispered as the words just came to me. "I can remember things." I rushed out with a smile. If they told me the words I would remember. They were inside my head. I could only assume it would take time for my memories to come back.

If there are any. I walk towards the big painting that was on the corner of this room. I remember because of this, I was able to be happy for the first time after I woke up from the accident. Through this painting, I somehow realized that we can be together without me being mad at him. All I just felt is the soothing feeling while we paint together. It feels like, this was my body wants to do all along. A smile formed in my face while reminiscing it. I heard a knock on the door. It was Maia.