Personal Narrative Fiction

Memories are crucial to everything we do every day. Without memories we would not know who is important to us or what we enjoy doing. We use our memories continuously, even when we do not realize that we are. In her memoir Brain on Fire, Susannah Cahalan loses much of her episodic memory from the time period in which she battled Anti-NDMA-receptor encephalitis. Because of this, she loses a portion of her identity, and struggles for a period of time while attempting to find herself again.

“That is good to hear, I am glad that you will be educating your peers on this topic.”

It was after that, that the terror came back. That she remembered everything that hurt. That more than once, faces that haunted her came back. Lingering touches that made her skin burn and bile rise to her throat. Where she felt like she had to scrub at her skin. To remove scars that she covered with magic.

He laughed lightly and shook his head. “You’re such a character Liz,” he mumbled, then let out a light chuckle. He laid on the couch and sleepily, he closed his eyes.

Threaded by a sickening chill, she raced to the cabin, stumbled inside, slammed and bolted the door. Realizing sobs filling the air came from her, she clamped a hand over her mouth. Trapped in a web of horrific memories, she stood frozen, pressed against the door. She needed to regain control of her pounding heart.

“I wanted to talk to you about that this morning.” He rubbed his warm hand up and down her arm. “I want to take Rory on a hunt overnight. Just the two of us.”

I remember a time when one student and I did math together. I was in charge of a kid. This kid made it very clear to me that they thought math was ridiculous. (I’m naming this kid Jorge because I don’t want to give his name out.)

“That is probably the homework again, it can teach you skills that you can use for the rest of your life like responsibility.”

The flashes made sleep a fleeting hope. Apart from the unpleasant memories, nurses were always coming into her room to violate her arms with blood pressure cuffs. Apparently, checking vitals were an important part of healing that Claire just didn’t understand. Plus, it seemed that her room was located directly in the middle of Antarctica.

It was a gloomy Monday morning. The trees swayed back and forward in the dim, murky

We’re letting her get to us aren’t we?” I said. “Only the army animated with the same spirit throughout its ranks can reign victorious.” I quoted Sun Tzu. GRACE SQUINTED AT ME. “ We can only win if we work together.” I translated. “Gotta hand it to the Chinese philosophers,”

Charlie woke up eight times during the night. Each in a cold sweat, grabbing fistfulls of blankets and sheets, pulling them to him, he would sit up. He would stare into the dark room and wonder momentarily where he was. What he was doing in someone else's bed. What he was doing in this strange wooden room, with these strange unlit candles, and that strange pale moonglow from the tall window.

River was shocked. No Vampire had ever asked for death. It was hard wired into their DNA to survive no matter what. It was how and why Saint Valentine had created them. They were created to survive anything war, disease, famine anything this world could throw at them. “Edmond, what about Andrew? You know he will perish without a Vampire to serve.”

Unfortunately, the escape to sleep wouldn’t come, and the quietness grew almost unbearable with the faint sounds of the heart monitors coming from beyond the brown doors. Often, the microphone on the other side of the intercom would click and seconds would pass before the tension could be alleviated by not hearing a nurse's voice. Finally someone in the waiting area came to the conclusion that the speaker must be getting bumped during the busyness of the intensive care unit.

Ari slammed the math worksheet onto her desk where she write her name full name, Arielle Queen, at the top. This piece of paper was the only way that she could openly prove that she was just as good or maybe even better than Carter.