Romans & histoires Trips Down Memory Lane

"And as I child who's in a very good and happy family, this one became one of my favorite places as well. Sadly, when I turned 8, we stop having vacations here, and until the accident happened, we didn't have the chance to come back here. And yea it's been 12 years since the last time I come here." He then smiled. "And it's good to be back here after long years." That put a bright smile on my face. I'm glad that he feels good to be back here. As we set the picnic blanket, our lips are stretched for a smile. A smile like a world doesn't face any problem, a smile that says we are enjoying and appreciating the moment, and no one can ruin it. We both sat at the picnic blanket after setting it up

I sat myself in the passenger seat and buckled up. “I wish. However, I would never really know. They died in a mission in Shanghai ten years ago.” Crap. I wanted to cry. Why did I even bring this up? “The company decommissioned this car when they passed, like they always do when an agent dies. But last night I was finally able to get my hands on it.” Stop talking god damn it. You’re just hurting yourself, Jaime. I felt tears flow from my eyes. Lucas’ sunny expression returned to the miserable state I’ve been used to seeing the past months. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I understand what you feel completely.”

Most likely running late because of me. I bent down and opened up the fridge. A small smile formed as I took in the fridge full of snacks and sodas. "I think I had one of these earlier." I sang as I grabbed one and opened it. I may not have remembered much of the car ride but I did vaguely remember a cherry soda. I took a big drink and instantly regretted it. The burn to my throat had me scrunching up my nose and making a sour face. I had to blink away the tears from how strong it was.

Memories from six years ago flood through my mind in a fast pace as I walk pass certain things, everything is new looking and shiny, as always, they tend to do revamps on almost everything in this town after every three years or so, that's what I seem to remember anyway, that, and a lot of other things, important things, hurtful things. Memories of everyone I knew, my old friends, all of us together, going on family trips, coming here to this place, it rings in my mind just like it has rang that day I had left, like a warning bell. “Damn, who be owning a limo though?” Jasmine jokes and I turn to look at where her eyes are set and I see it, the black limo parked and waited not too far from us

Nirvana escaped from home to this safe-house hidden from the buzzling headache of her apartment and memories, only to come here, take a walk and arrive at another point that embodied one of her memories—the bad ones. “Seems like today is Memory Recollection Day, how about I just chill back and let everything rush forward since my best effort to ditch it just got useless.” Nirvana said to herself as she walked further, towards that swing she had sat one when she was eight years old.

My elbows sink to the table, and I bury my face behind my palms. She cannot understand. None of them can. Old memories trickle over me the second my eyes close. It’s useless fighting them, so I let myself be transported to the past. A past we hardly visit but has shaped our lives, particularly my current obsession with finding my trigger. The memory grows so vivid, and I clutch my chest as the scene shifts into focus.

It was clear they were determined to back me into a corner. Fortunately, I had learned that the court had just released a new trial system that made it possible for memories to be retrieved straight from one's mind. It was just that it was still in the trial phase and had not yet been implemented. I shook my head and replied firmly, "I do not plead guilty to these allegations. I am innocent, Your Honor. Using the latest technology, I'd like to request a direct replay of my memories." The moment I said that, the faces of those seated at the prosecution's side fell immediately.

As the woman spoke, she set a tray down in front of me. On it were some stomach medicine and a warm bowl of oatmeal. I swallowed hard. Even though she looked a little familiar, I still watched her with caution. "Who are you? And why are you bringing me food?" The woman's eyes widened like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Ms. Summer, don't you remember me?" I nodded slightly and told her I seemed to have lost my memory.

He led me to a booth. "Do you remember this place?" I blinked, looked around, again. I did. "This was where I loved to eat during...the last vacation with...with Mom." I suddenly realized it. I must have repressed the memory. Well, not precisely repressed it. I remembered the trip, it was lovely. Mom and Dad were happy and romantic together, and they let me explore the dunes and shops and generally have wholesome fun. It was a really great vacation. What I'd repressed was that it was the last vacation we'd ever had together and that it was here, to this town.

His lips moved desperately behind the fogged plastic, forming words that couldn't reach my ears. After decades as siblings, I could easily read his lips. He was calling me, repeatedly, desperate yet weak. "Emma, Emma..." I sat perfectly still, watching him fight for each breath. Part of me remained detached, as if observing a stranger. But somewhere deep inside, memories stirred. I remembered that heavy snowfall years ago, remembered the not-yet-twenty-year-old Matthew who had held me tight after our parents died. His voice had been so certain then, so strong and reassuring.