Sweetest Memory Novels & Stories

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

“I wonder if your mother would’ve changed her mind and named you something else if she would’ve known your name didn’t quite match your personality.” “It’s not my personality,” Memory corrected. “I just get... distracted. I can remember important things. Like people’s birthdays. And favorite colors. And recipes for snickerdoodle cookies—even if I don’t remember to take them out before they burn.” “Now that I’m glad you can remember,” Bryce agreed. “Well, I should get to work.” “What’s that?” Memory asked, noticing a flyer in his hand. The red and green trim looked similar to the one she’d seen blowing down the street earlier.

" He studied my expression, uncertain whether I knew something. I turned away and looked out the window at the passing crowds. "Don't be nervous. I only wanted to see if you remember your promise. Lorenzo, I want to see the northern lights in Frostholm Isles." We first met in Frostholm Isles, so I wanted to end everything there as well. To finish where it began. To close the circle with one final trip. Lorenzo let out a long breath of relief, fully convinced that jealousy was the only reason I had asked him that question. He smiled, thinking he still understood me. "Alright, my love. Whatever you want."

“It didn’t mean anything. We were caught up, emotions were high—” “Stop lying.” His voice cuts through me, rough and certain. “You can lie to everyone else. Hell, you’ve been lying to me since the day you walked into this school. But not about that. Not to me.” My chest heaves. I want to deny it, to laugh in his face, to tell him he’s delusional. But the memory is too vivid — the taste of adrenaline and fear, the press of his mouth against mine, the way my heart betrayed me in that moment.

"Yannie, my dear..." As my tears silently flowed, they gradually turned into sobs that felt like something heavy and unbearable, trying to break free inside me. I bit my lower lip, trying to hold back from crying louder. My thoughts drifted back to earlier when I neglected what I was cooking. But the burnt hotdog and my burned finger both reminded me of Josh. Memories flooded back from the first day I slept over at his apartment, times when we were both happy together when my own happiness was all that mattered.

My mind reeled, struggling to process the implications of these long-forgotten memories. The memories came flooding back, each one a vivid snapshot of a moment in time. I remembered lazy afternoons spent watching the sunset together, sharing laughter and stories over dinner, and playful moments of splashing in the crystal-clear waters of my lagoon. The recollections were so real, so tangible, that I felt like I was reliving them all over again. I clutched at my chest, as if trying to physically contain the onslaught of memories, each one tumbling forth like a wave crashing on the shore. Countless moments, countless memories of Haven and me, of a life I thought I'd long forgotten.

"Please, be still for a while." My eyes were large and my eyes were almost wet in tears, but I stood still like an obedient child as the thought of memories flood back into my head, was I stupid or was this what I wanted, for him to remember me gradually like this, even if it means repeating the event of the past?

I want to know how to make you smile more. “Don’t mind me. It’s just me and my silly thoughts…” He trailed off a bit before responding to my question. “My wife used to add the same amount of honey in her tea. Seeing you do the same made me feel happy for a moment.” I saw Lucas’ eyes tear up, but he quickly wiped the droplets away in the guise of running his hand through his hair. “Every time I see, hear, or smell things that remind me of her, the empty feelings in my heart fades for a while, but then I feel miserable afterwards when I realize she’s never coming back.”

I tried to remember but I still had some of that annoying fog “I feel like I know you, but I have fog in my brain that is stopping me from remembering” “You do know me” The girl looked down and looked sad “Come by the house before you go back. I have a tea that you can take. It will stop the fog from getting in” My mum reached over and patted my leg “It has something to do with that girl with Chad aye” My mum and the girl both nodded. “Once you drink the tea your memories will come back. That’s if you want them to. If not you can keep living like you are, you are not in danger. Its Jill that they are wanting to hurt not you”

I shouldn’t take any of them beyond simple compliments, and promptly forget them. If he truly meant them, he would say them when he was sober. Still, I couldn’t deny the spikes of pleasure that thrilled me with each of his words. You’re so beautiful. I could look at you forever. Hate it, the thought of you with someone else. Each word, spoken in truth or delirium, I would hold close to my heart forever. When morning would come and he’d take it all away, I wouldn’t begrudge him. But nothing would remove the memory of him saying those sweet things to me.