Of Forgotten Memories Novels & Stories

Knew what I remembered. Knew what I didn’t. Knew what I was about to find. A cold realization settled deep in my chest. Heavy. Unavoidable. > This didn’t start today. My fingers curled slightly. Tight. > It didn’t start at the cemetery. My breath came out slow. Uneven. > And whatever I forgot three years ago… My eyes lifted. To the empty space where the figure had been. To the place that didn’t feel empty anymore. > It hasn’t forgotten me.

So I began to pack my bags, but Sienna texted me halfway, attached with a photo of the car trunk full of champagne roses. [Look, Fiona. Duke still remembers champagne roses—these are my favorite.] [Thank you for grooming such a perfect partner. He's so much more romantic than before.] I didn't reply, and quietly ticked another day off the calendar. - That night, Duke broke his promise again—in fact, he didn't come home over the next few days either. As I solemnly cleared signs that I lived in my house and ticked the days off the calendar, I finally understood—when you were disappointed enough, you wouldn't even want to leave anything for the other person to remember you by.

Both young fairies grew up without their mother since they were born. “Bran, just let your friend take it easy for a while. Now, I must return to our realm.” Nurse Zella replies dutifully. “Young lady, can you handle the knowledge of what transpired here? If not, I would be willing to cast a memory magic.” Nurse Zella asks Jo directly. “I would not even dare choose to forget this madam. My best friend is in grave danger. If I could do anything to help her, I would. So, the answer is yes. I can keep a secret madam if that is what you mean.”

Anastasia said while looking at Selena in confusion. It has happened before. Anastasia's brain works weirdly. It makes her forget the moments which she doesn't want to remember. Like if she is eating five fruits together and doesn't like one fruit, after one nap or something, she forgets eating that fruit but remembers about eating the other four. That's how it works for her. Her brain makes her remember the situation which she imagined.

There was no one to take care of me so Nick’s father took me in and I lived with them since the accident. I don’t remember anything else and I have been forgetful lately. Nick mentioned it was because his father died last month that made me forget everything again. He said I was beginning to remember and I had made progress but his death took a huge toll on me and caused me to have blackouts recently. He has been patient with me and he suggested I do therapy to help me regain my memories. Doctor Singa has been filling me in on everything these past weeks but nothing has been working thus far. I have been trying to remember but the more I try the more I forget.

Fortunately, with the help of my friends in Italy and Greece, I finished my schooling in business course and applied as Barack's secretary who is now my fiancé. My heart was heavy upon reminiscing the past. It was squeezing me inside, preventing me from breathing smoothly. I did not know what happened afterwards, my mind was nowhere to be found. The next thing I just knew was we were already inside the van and my son was watching the colourful lights outside. I motioned my hands to my face and noticed my wet cheeks. I immediately wiped it with my fingers and heaved a heavy deep breath. Am I really ready to face my past and remember the forgotten?

"Every scroll. Every memory." "Then we need to find a new source." The search leads us to the Seer. A wolf who lives in the mountains, blind from birth. She sees with her soul, not her eyes. "Seraphina," she says as I enter her cave. "I have been waiting for you." "Who are the Forgotten?" She is silent for a long moment. Then she speaks. "The Forgotten are wolves who were erased. Not killed. Erased. Their memories. Their identities. Their existence. They were consumed by the Void."

I kissed Clara's forehead, opened the intercom, and said, "Come up. Ten minutes." It was not forgiveness. It was my door, my life, my choice.

His knuckles were white where he gripped the pillows in his fists, and I could feel the shudder over the shoulders. His voice dropped, a whisper. "There's something wrong with me, Calla. Something more than I've told you. Something more than I've ever let myself think. The doctors said the forgetfulness was traumatic, that maybe one day it would come back. But it's seven years ago it happened, and there is nothing. There's nothing but blackness. Nothing but dreams." He looked up at me then, and despair in his eyes robbed me of breath. "I need to get back those memories. I need to know what did happen… with you. With us. I need to know how we created something as wonderful if I didn't even kn

The question hung in the air, heavy and strange, like a door creaking open to a place I wasn’t ready to go. My past— the hazy memories of a life before the pack—flashed through my mind, but I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could give him. Not yet.