Novel & Cerita Never Forget What They Took From Us

My grandfather was a thief. He stole my grandmother’s name and the opportunity that could have taken her out of the backwoods, then left with another woman by his side. One of them became a prominent law professor, standing at the front of lecture halls talking about fairness and justice. The other became a renowned fine artist, speaking in front of news cameras about art and integrity. Meanwhile, my grandmother was trapped in the backwoods her entire life, enduring pointed fingers and malicious insults everywhere she went. She died with her eyes wide open, refusing to rest in peace. Fifty years passed. I owed everything to the sacrifices of my grandmother and mother. Thanks to them, I

Noah looked toward my grandmother’s photograph. Then he whispered, “Under the house.” My blood ran cold. “What is under the house?” Noah looked at me. “The room where they erased us.” Ethan tightened his grip around my hand. I looked at him. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I was furious. Because someone had stolen years from me. They had stolen my children. They had stolen my memories. And now, finally, they were giving everything back. But before anyone could speak, Noah suddenly looked behind me.

When the officers broke the door open, they discovered four bodies slumped around a dining table, with a pot of poisoned chicken soup in the middle. The story stirred up some talk around town, but new headlines soon buried it. The tragedy of that family quietly faded from memory, and no one ever spoke of it again.

••••• "I still don’t know if Kyle ever found out they used his design. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. He’s always been that way, hard to read, distant. Like he’s always carrying something too big for anyone else to understand. And as for you, Naina… the reason you don’t remember anything about the orphanage, about what happened there, is because your memories were erased. All of you who were adopted or chosen to leave... your minds were wiped clean. It doesn’t happen right away, but eventually, the memories fade like a fog rolling over everything you once knew." I sat there in silence, my hand slowly falling to my lap. That’s why. That’s why I had never remembered the faces, everything about

" I tried to shake off the ache in my chest, swiping at my nose like it'd stop me from tearing up. I didn't want her to see this—not now. She'd already lost so much. By the time night fell, her sobs were barely audible. A knock at the door finally made her get up. The landlord. She called a moving company, arranged to take the boxes. Holding the small container of soil with my remains, she whispered, her voice raw, "Sienna, come home with Mommy. I'll take you home. I won't lose you again..." I reached out, wrapping my arms around her. "Mom, I'll go with you. Next life, I promise I'll do better. Can you be my mom again?"

As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity - remember me. Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, your memories of the times we loved, the times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed. For if you always think of me, I will never be gone. Margaret Mead “Let us never forget those who gave all to Skatom Mochain,” I said and lowered my glass to drink. I can say one thing for sure, this stuff wasn’t for the weak, it burned a bit going down.

"Nothing. Don't overthink it." I was tired after a long day. Sarah followed me, her face pale with anger. But just as she reached for me, her phone rang. She answered. My mother's hysterical crying came through the speaker. "Lucas tried to kill himself! Someone leaked the photos, and he couldn't take it. He took pills!" Sarah's head snapped toward me, her eyes sharp and dangerous. I stood there, a little stunned. To be fair, I had done exactly that in my past life. But this time, it wasn't me. What did I have to do with it?

And no one could ever take that away from her again. THE END

And, twenty-three years later, they decided to bring the flames of the past- one which they or anyone could never blow out. The flames of the past, which I ignored the bright light of. Dear Aryn, Please forgive us, but we have to leave. And by that, we don't mean seeing each other once other every year. No. We mean considering us dead. The only bond we may ever share is through the necklace and pictures we left you. You may understand as time passes why we did this. However, you will never understand how painful it was for us. Remember that all memories are like water droplets; they drip from the window to the streets and from your heart to your blood.

Amethyst looked down at the note in her hand that her mother had sent her. Many emotions were going through her, chief among them, disbelief. The Eastern Kingdom had not visited their village in a very long time. Her grandmother had not been born when the trading and visits had stopped. Amethyst,