More Than Memories Novels & Stories

Remembering the doctor's diagnosis and how they'd doubted me when I'd first lost my memory, their expressions twisted with even more regret. "Sunny, we're your family. I'm your father, this is your mother, and this is your brother." Bobby looked so much older. His hair was completely white. He tried to remind me of past memories to bring me back into their lives. But I just smiled politely. "Sorry, I already have a mom. Whoever you are has nothing to do with me." Seeing they were about to keep talking, I stopped them. "It's fine. The past is the past. I've already received your compensation. Being strangers works just fine. Really."

Yvonne still had not come back. His thoughts drifted back to the divorce papers and that note. Lately, no matter what he did, they kept gnawing at his mind. Only by burying himself in work could he catch a brief moment of peace. The second he paused, memories of Yvonne came flooding back, uncontrollable and relentless. When she was with him, she had never acted like Sophia. She was shy, careful with her affection, and genuinely tender. Even though he had taken her for Sophia’s substitute, she had never been like her.

Lauren’s P.O.V. (Continued) I didn’t take the call but stared at the screen blankly. The ringing went on until it stopped on its own. I looked at the horizon again. “If the lost memories are meant to return. They will return on their own. If not, make the new memories.” I scoffed bitterly. What if the new memories hurt you more than those forgotten memories? What should one do then? I sighed and closed my eyes again. Joyce was right.

There is something steady in it, something grounding, like he is the one keeping this from becoming something bigger and harder to control. I rub my thumb lightly against the edge of the phone, and then, before I can stop myself, I type again. Do you get them often? The reply takes long enough that I think he will not answer. Sometimes. A pause, then…Not always this bad. My chest tightens, because if I felt that across distance, how much worse was it for him? I type carefully. Does something trigger them? The reply is almost immediate. Stress. Memories. Memories. The word settles heavily, and I stare at it, because that is something I do not have, or do not remember having, and yet my body

The air was thick with anticipation, as if the walls themselves held countless untold stories. I approached the reception desk, where a young woman with piercing blue eyes and an enigmatic smile greeted me. Her name tag read "Lena." "Welcome to Memoria," she said, her voice soft yet confident. "How may I assist you today?" "I... I've heard that you can erase memories," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Is it true?" Lena nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, it's true. Memoria specializes in memory alteration. We help individuals who seek to escape the pain of their past, to start anew."

I need to think deeper and instead of being drowned by loneliness, I should just look at those who just want me to be happy and those who genuinely love me Maybe, love will fade but memories won't. You'll just drop it at the end of your brain but it'll stay there for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. You really don't have a choice when it comes to memories. You only need someone to trigger it and you'll say to yourself that nothing had changed, you've just made yourself grow and turn yourself into the best version of yourself which can still be improved if you'll keep on growing. Look at those who are having amnesias. They may have forgotten everything or some memories that t

How could I not remember? For me there has never been such a thing as forgetting; nothing is hazy or vague or frayed at the edges. I hoard memories like a miser counts his gold. Every scrap of a moment is kept as long as it has some value. I don't see anything photographically. Instead I make connections, spinning them together like a spider weaving a web, threading one strand into the next.

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

So, I shoved my ex-boyfriend and said coldly, "You're right, Shawn. We're over. If we get out of here alive, fire me." I looked at the sky and ran off. Queenie tried to come after me, but Shawn stopped her. "Let her. She'll come back when the rain comes." My future ex-colleagues nodded. "Yep. It's an abandoned island. She's just a charlatan with no skills. She'll have to come back for food." "Speaking of which, let's find some."

These islands floated through a sea of forgotten moments, shifting and changing in response to our presence. The Guardians observed our journey, their voices guiding us through the intricate dance of memories. "To find the Chronosphere, you must answer this question: What is the consequence of memories unbound from their origins, and how can they be harnessed for the greater good?" As we navigated through the memory islands, we grappled with a profound question. Memories, when detached from their origins, could become a chaotic force, influencing the realms they inhabited in unpredictable ways. Richard whispered, "Unbound memories have the power to reshape realities, but they also carry the