Mémoire Novels & Stories

ALEX The office felt colder tonight. It wasn’t the temperature but the heavy silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. My sanctuary, once a place of focus and strategy, now felt suffocating, like the walls were pressing in on me. I sat behind my desk, nursing a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the dim light from the desk lamp. Ricardo’s face haunted me—his smug smirk, his piercing eyes. The encounter at the mall was brief, but it had triggered memories I’d worked hard to bury. The way he said “ just surprising an old friend”

"It's not that she can't recognize you. The actual fact is that she can't remember you. I'm really sorry to say this but due to the severe concussion that she suffered, Jolie has lost her memory, or more precisely, some parts of it. She has completely lost the memories of the past eleven years. That's why she can't remember both you and Jeremy as she hadn't met both of you eleven years ago. She's suffering from what we call retrograde amnesia. And retrograde amnesia is usually temporally graded in the sense that one's most recent memories are affected while the older ones are retained. Its extent also varies in different cases and from one patient to the other. One may lose memories of one o

Otherwise, someone as resilient as Hesper wouldn't have lost control of her tears in front of others. Hesper took a deep breath, acknowledging her loss of composure earlier. The medication Charles had given her had been remarkably effective, swiftly bringing her memories flooding back. These included dark and haunting memories that replayed in her mind. Simultaneously, Professor Miles's theory had been confirmed—Hesper indeed had hyperthymesia, and all those memories remained vividly in her mind. Hesper managed to regain her composure, choosing the most logical response.

he added, busying himself with the food he was eating. “That’s none of your business,” I snarl. “Of course, and then again. An eighteen-year-old figured you out with a mere laugh.” he clicked his tongue before grabbing a glass and eyed me from the rim. “Because she is freaking hyperthymesia. She can remember things thoroughly.” I scowl, "It's uniquely annoying, I know." I clench my fist, letting my fury out through the nose. “Maybe if you had done your job thoroughly,” he looked at me, “You would have known,” he scoffed. "I thought you were better that me because I would have sniffed from a mile away."

Daisy still kept silent, calm as if nothing had happened. Dash’s head was like mud, he couldn’t remember anything. He quickly rushed into the bathroom and poured cold water on his head. A few blurry, fragmented images exist in memory. To stop Daisy's annoying crying. Dash sees Daisy as nothing more than a stuffed animal. Cover her nose, pinch her cheeks, spread her mouth, strangle. Being bothered too much. Daisy also reacted a bit. Mumbling something, she turned over and leaned in the other direction, continuing to sleep.

Not a question. "Yes. I need you to walk me through everything you remember. Not the summary. Everything." Amara told her. She had a good memory, the kind that stored sensory detail alongside factual information, so that when she described the rooftop she included the smell of the city below them and the particular quality of the light from Raines's phone screen against the dark and the sound Raines made when Amara told her it was the best thing she had written, a small exhale that Amara described as someone releasing something they had been holding for a long time.

The one dominating my memories. Dane.

" My mouth slowly curved into a faint smile. A single tear of blood slipped from the corner of my eye. In Claire's terrified cry, I lost consciousness. My mind drifted through pain and static. Then a white light opened somewhere deep inside my memory. It was ten years ago, a quiet afternoon in the woods behind the school.

PHOEBE I spent the entire night tossing and turning, my mind trapped in a chaotic, unending loop of ocean-blue eyes and haunted confessions. Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. The man literally couldn’t forget a single bad day if he tried. Every slight, every grief, every scratch on a wall or tone of voice was locked away in his brain in permanent, unyielding high-definition. It was mind-blowing, it’s exciting yet I could guess how exhausting it might also be. I couldn’t even remember what I’d eaten for breakfast last Thursday, and my entire childhood before the age of ten was just a blank, velvety void of nothingness—a biological mercy file my brain had apparently decided to delete fo

My parents shrank under the stares, their proud expression fading into stiff, pale faces. Suddenly, Audrey's eyes widened, as if she'd just thought of a way out. She jabbed her finger at the screen, shouting, "That woman in the video isn't me! "I have a twin sister—her name's Aurora. She's the one in that footage!"