Thesaurus Memorable Novels & Stories

Before this table. Something I don’t yet understand, but that my body recognizes. And that look. That look she gives me unwittingly. Like a burn. Like a memory. A flash runs through me. A dim light. Rumpled sheets. Warm skin. A name whispered in the shadows. But everything is blurry. Distant. Like drowned underwater. I furrow my brows. Why is this memory so blurry? Why is it coming back now? Lucas breaks the moment. — And your car, Alexandre? How are you recovering from your accident two months ago?

Damien Memory is a strange thing. People think it comes back like a movie. A full scene, complete with sound and color and the exact emotion of the moment. They think you sit down and remember the way you sit down and watch something on a screen. Mine came back like an ambush.

I felt a really sharp pain in my head immediately. "Ouch! That's so painful." "Because you're trying to remember." He went over to my bed and sat on it. I'm trying to remember? "Words are... how do I put it? Really strong? I mean, like when we're told to mind what we say because we can't unsay it and the words are always there to... Anyway, that's how you get your memories back." "How? I didn't even get what you just said." He exhaled and rolled his eyes.

Nessa asked. “I was hoping you’d answer that,” I replied, “I mean, you seem to know everything.” “I don’t know everything,” Nessa rolled her eyes, “I just have a sharper memory than you do. So everything you’ve heard and seen since you were an infant till now, I still remember. Even things you’d totally forgotten.” “Wow! I didn’t realize that.” “There’s no record of Maximo in your memory,” Nessa continued, “not even once or mentioned in passing. And you said he knows about the prophecy?”

I didn't need trouble; I had enough of it already. So, instead of fighting, I spent most of my time in the library or on the internet. I was learning; teaching myself about anything that interested me. I had a knack of remembering things; not everything, I don't have a photographic memory or anything (and, honestly, there's no such thing as a photographic memory – that's just a fiction you find in books, movies and television), I just had a very good memory. I was also really good at applying things I learned in one field to problems I discovered in another. Correlative analysis, I think I heard someone call it once. Whatever it was, I turned out to be really, really good at it.

And a part of me just wanted to go back and live in that memory. And the words I had whispered so brokenly when they were pulled out from the recesses of my brain as if coming alive... I didn’t even know the meaning of them, they had just unlocked and slipped out like they were resting on the tip of my tongue, just waiting to be acknowledged.… Moya zhizn’ I serdtse prinadlezhat tebe. But they must mean something more than I could comprehend given the visceral reaction I had and the way Jeremiah had forgotten his rage momentarily.

"Anya, I'm allergic to milk. Don't you remember?" I froze, then said, "Oh, really? Sorry, I forgot. Lately, I seem to have trouble remembering things about you. What's going on? Why did we get together in the first place? It's very strange. Why am I only forgetting things about you?" Fabian's expression grew darker as I spoke, showing signs that he might explode.

Antoine watched Camille, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Camille’s emotions surged, and tears began to roll down her cheeks, salty and bittersweet. How long had it been since she last remembered the scent of her mother’s lily of the valley? How long had it been since she felt the vibrant essence of fragrance, the subtle bond between scent and memory? 'Muse' didn’t just analyze the scent—it awakened a corner of her mind she thought lost forever. It allowed her to 'see' images again, to 'hear' sounds, and to feel the delicate stirrings of emotions she believed had disappeared for good.

Poor Lu, He couldn't still get to the point that one of his relatives is working and spying on him. Even when it was all clear, he couldn't still see what the problem was. Jordan had shown him the clear picture of the person tattoo, it's the drawing of two doves, glued together. It gives him memories of the day he had his own, the same dove tattoo.

My name is Meghan Trevor and I've got a story to share. Don't tell me I messed up after reading this cause I know I did. Some will say I should have waited, but I did wait. Others would say I should have waited longer, but 8 years was long enough. Here's my story.....