Sometimes, things don't need to be said to be understood.
~~~~~~~~~~
Liane Thierry doesn't remember anything beyond the past four months, give or take. After an incident she'd been told had ruined her future, at an ice hockey game during the World Championships, she was lucky enough to only be diagnosed with retrograde amnesia, and slowly, but surely, be regaining her memories. The more and more recent the memories get, the harder they are for her to remember. Her knowledge of recent events that'd occurred for her closely prior to the incident were all based off others' memories.
She holds onto everything she remembers by only mentally recording the memories she's returned, rather than what her therapist had instructed. She's mostly recovered now, anyway.
Suddenly, she begins to remember someone who she cannot recall the identity of. Memories of the same person over and over continue to piece together in her brain, and she can tell it was a lover. But it couldn't be current, for there was no one now. Where was he now?
Curiosity killed the cat.
Thank god she wasn't a cat.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey." He exhaled so deeply she wondered how long he'd been holding his breath. The corners of her lips curled up into a smile she hadn't been meaning to let out so soon.
"Hey," she responded, staring straight at the black, ironed words of his sweatshirt. She chuckled slightly. 'French eat pain for breakfast,' it'd said, and she wanted to run her hand across the smooth, but rough material of the iron-on and remember the contrast between that and the grey cotton sweatshirt.
==========
"Who are you?" she queried, cocking her head to the right in thought. She was baffled at his approach, for no one had done that to her for as much as she could recall, and she'd never seen him around, whether it was her mind or the world.
Shrugging, he replied, "I dunno. You tell me." He raised his left arm, her right side, and pushed her head back straight by lifting his arm to about her right temple, and nudging it up, grinning.
"Who am I?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Hey there! This is my submission for the Open Novella Contest, in case you haven't figured it out by the cover. Any form of criticism is helpful, and I can handle it if you don't use euphemism (substitute possibly blunt, offensive, or harsh words), just 'cause I can. :D
Please help me.
I won't be writing many, if any, author's notes here, like I usually do at the ends of my chapters. This is also a short story, so it would progress a tad bit quicker. This love story has already been slightly developed, and this story will be mostly be written in the form of a series of letters that'll all tie into each other, or I might change my mind and do actual scenes without the use of letters if I just *cannot* anymore. :) Guess what? I did change my mind. I'm alternating between the letters and ordinary scenes. However, the in-person chapters will all be in third person, unless specified otherwise, which would probably (actually) not happen.
I hope you enjoy!
P.S. Everything here is original and written by myself, and blah blah blah. The normal stuff about plagiarism and stuff. :) I'm not the best writer, and I constantly have writer's block, so I apologize in advance if my writing (when, really) disappoints you. I'd also use the excuse of being new to this kind of writing, but it's just me. Haha. (I'M SORRY, I'M JUST A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD LOSER, OKAY? :/ God, what is self esteem anymore?) No matter how much editing and revising I do, it's still bad. The first chapter may be the worst of all of them. I never know how the heck to start. (or in other words, here're more excuses) These chapters will also be shorter than those in my other stories, since they're partially letters. (yadda yadda)
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Needless To Say [ON HOLD]
Roman d'amourSometimes, things don't need to be said to be understood. ~~~~~~~~~~ Liane Thierry doesn't remember anything beyond the past four months, give or take. After an incident she'd been told had ruined her future, at an ice hockey game during the World C...