Mission Memories Novels & Stories

Three years had gone by, and here we were, still at the starting line. I lowered my head, not expecting anything anymore. I knew Eric would go back on his word the moment Tiffany shed a tear. So, they brought me to the pack's Sacred Hall, where the statue of the Moon Goddess stood tall in the center. The flame around the altar pulsed with a cold, piercing light. The elder overseeing the ritual looked grave as he warned me, "The Memory Offering is one of the oldest forbidden rites. It burns your wolf and projects your memories for all to see.

It transcends death, seeping into your life through all the little ways they showed you they loved you when they were here. I clear my throat, trying to get myself back on track. “The point is, if you lost a loved one. You’re not alone. There will be more names to fill these walls, and more lives lost far too soon. But we can’t be afraid of losing someone. It hinders our living. This memorial isn’t a reminder of death—It’s a reminder of LIFE. It tells us to live so that when our time is here, we leave behind a legacy.”

They became speechless for a moment before a loud guffaw echoed around the corner of the room. Green leaves all over the place, fresh breeze of air that pushes the scents of the variety flowers in the garden to fill in my nostrils and the calm music of swaying pine tress made me feel nostalgic. A damsel in distress always stay her ass off here when she was tired and exhausted. She looks up the sky full of stars and waited until she gets better. Yeah, that’s how my life works before especially in the times when I messed up and all that I have was my cousin, Marcus. I missed him so much. I hadn’t seen him starting the day that I left home.

ouch. I came in to my father’s room, which was earlier my parent’s room. Suddenly all the memories came back like a quick flashback. I always thought about how powerful are memories. They can call any emotion any minute. They can make you cry, get in depression and just make your heart ache. But the other side can make you smile, raise your mood and make you feel grateful for every single thing that you have. This time memories nearly killed me, because suddenly I forgot how to breath and I let out the breathe that I didn’t know I was holding. I closed my eyes for a second to calm down but more flashbacks started haunting my mind. In the end, I screamed...

Most of what she skimmed looked like medical gibberish to her. She opened another journal with a bookmark. In that article, he had written about an experimental drug called Memrose. He had developed it with a former colleague who was a neurosurgeon as well. It was a drug that could be used to erase the memory of prisoners of war. After years of testing and adjusting, Memrose was successful in wiping the memories of prisoners of war as far back as a year. They would have no memory of where they were held and what they were asked or what they had told the enemy before being released. “Oh my God!”

But I owed it to Mireya to try, to find a way to honor her memory, even if it felt impossible. "You know, the human brain relives for seven minutes after death," Adrian whispered, his voice hoarse. "I know you covered most of her memories as far as I know." I stared at him, trying to understand his words through the haze of my grief. Seven minutes. Seven minutes where Mireya might still be experiencing her life, her memories. I clung to the thought, hoping that in those last moments, she was reliving the happiest times we had shared. "Seven minutes," I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. "I hope... I hope she felt all the love we had."

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.