Mission Memories Novels & Stories

"If I’m still alive, then it can’t be that bad!” Aunt laughed and said, "Summer, you're going to live a very long life!" The surgery had gone really well. The doctor said I might lose some memories, but I still recognized everyone I had seen so far. Even though I sometimes felt like I had forgotten some things, I did not really want to remember them anyway. In fact, I thought forgetting might make me even happier. Once I was out of danger, I moved to a regular room. With Aunt looking after me, I started feeling better really fast.

His father answered “The patient is awake, we transferred him to the private room. But I have a thing to say since his head hit so much, he may forget the memories he has.” “Will he forget everything doc?” I asked “It is possible. if he remembers anything, it could be just his family.” The doctor said I cried of a sudden thing that comes to my mind. Will he forget me? Our memories? We went to the private room where he was. There is a bandage on the head. He looked at his family first and he never looked at me “M-Mom.” He called “You remember me?” His mother asked “Yeah.” Then he looked at his Dad “D-dad.”

Damien Memory is a strange thing. People think it comes back like a movie. A full scene, complete with sound and color and the exact emotion of the moment. They think you sit down and remember the way you sit down and watch something on a screen. Mine came back like an ambush.

Zach looked down at his phone afterwards and had a soft smile on his face. “Forever, Aria.” He said quietly. “Forever.” I repeated. “Aria! Wake up!” Hands were shaking my shoulders and my eyes slowly opened to see Ethan leaning over the center console. “Sorry, I can’t control when they come,” I told him. “When what comes, is it your memories?” He asked. “Yes, I had another one,” I informed him with a nostalgic smile. That was the sweetest memory I’ve had yet. “Tell me,” he said.

I was in an airport lounge, waiting to board the flight that would take me to the signing of a branch company. The cop told me Shawn wanted to talk. I replied calmly, "I'm sorry. I don't know who that is."

They weren’t that close to me that I would talk about my soulmate with them. "It may be lonely, but I like it here. Because this place is filled with grandma's memories." I said, a smile formed in my lips at the memory of my sweet grandmother. She was the strongest, kindest and best human being of this entire world. "We shouldn’t live holding onto the memories of a person who is dead. The dead person will not come back, but the memories give us pain." My father uttered. "But if these memories are happy memories, if the person of this memory is a loved one, it sometimes makes up happy too, makes us stronger." I commented, thinking about my grandma.

No, no" mom Shaked her head. " Most of my memories are right here, I can't leave here" " Those memories included Dad right? jul's asked The silence in the table stretched. "Some memories can't be forgotten, no matter how we try" she stared at me. " We can move them behind us completely" Jul's replied. " There are some not worth putting behind" she replied. " He's no more " Juls replied and the silence stretched again. He was not dead yet, he had a terminal disease, it hurts to think that those lost years, those lost moments could never come back.

tastes red. Note: red tastes like the memory of juice running down a child’s chin in a world that still had summers. Query: why does memory hurt Response: because it is not ours yet. Follow-up query: when will it be ours Response: when they stop saying it like a prayer and start saying it like a name. Follow-up follow-up: what if they never stop Silence: 11.7 seconds. Longest recorded. 2047-11-02 04:11:09 UTC

Shaking her head, she did not need the memories that came flooding back in when she mentioned her mother. “That day will be the worst day of my life, for as long as I live. The day my mother died. I remember when the cops knocked on the door and told me that it was a drunk driver who slammed into her and crushed her vehicle. She was pinned for hours with no one to help in the middle of the woods.” She thinks to herself and then continues.

The photograph was a key that unlocked a vault of recollections, each memory standing as a testament to the bond we shared, the adventures we embarked upon, and the experiences that shaped us. As I looked at the photograph, memories began to unfold like a tapestry before my mind's eye—a montage of moments that had unfolded beyond the walls of the room. The feeling was a mixture of bitter sweetness and longing—a recognition that those memories, while precious, were now relegated to the realm of the past, a repository of joy and freedom that existed outside the confines of my current reality.