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Start your story with a character or a narrator saying, “Don’t you remember?”

Posted in Middle School on Nov 1, 2022

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✍️ 58 stories

The Events of Earth

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember?” They all stared at Freddie, as he silently slurped the last of his coffee. He knew they’d ask him some day. But he hoped it wasn’t today, or any other day. Before he knew it, he was left scrabbling round his empty mind in search of a missing memory he’d hoped never to repeat itself again. Hopefully, he had left it in the last place he visited; the far corner of his mind.  “Oh, you must have remembered it, Fred, it was bigger than last Christmas.” Bernadette had always had a strong memory. It was almost impossible...

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"I Love Her"

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember?”I felt so raw having to ask the words to Her. I never thought I’d show such a weak side to myself for such a small thing. But I fell hard with Her and I was always destined to be the one that needed Her more than she could ever need me. I would have been embarrassed if shame and pain didn’t overwhelm me instead, climbing up my body as I sat there on my knees with Her looking down at me, a puzzling expression that I dared to hope still hid some affection for my dark curls and small frame that loved to hug Her around Her n...

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Grand Central.

Submitted to Contest #156

[TW: Slight mentions of insanity] [Caution: The following texts will cause you to think deeply, to question everything you know. It will make you remember. The things you recall may not be exactly what you want. Don't be scared of your mind. Let it wander. Your inner child will thank you.] * * * * * "Don't you remember?" "Remember what?" My voice is strikingly cold, bitter like my surroundings. Marble is dusty, the walls are covered in spiderwebs. Creepy little things. As I look around the empty station, something in me isn't very ...

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My Daughter

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember?” I say hearing my breath coming out in rasps.Meredith shook her head, squinting her pale blue eyes up at me.My hands trembled as I enveloped her in another hug, sinking into the smell of vanilla that always lingered in her. The soft pulsing of her heart was jubilant music to my ears. I kissed her auburn curls for the millionth time.“Mum, what’s wrong?” she asked pulling back and placing the colored pencils she is holding on the counter, pale blue eyes suspicious as she looked me over. I opened my mouth to talk but no wor...

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Down the Rabbit Hole

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember?” The universe has been spying on me for a while now. Its sharp gaze leaves hints on strangers’ faces and fools my ears by making them believe they heard my name being shouted as I walk across all streets. “Evren.” It whispers the word I find myself most often forgetting to remember. I hear that name rushing through my veins as I cross 555th avenue, the name that traps me into living a real-life version of groundhog day, except in my case, the days pass.  Before blinking, the moment drifts away, and I find myse...

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Yours Truly

Submitted to Contest #156

Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember all the times I was by your side? Why can’t you be at mine now? Why can’t you just be here for one more night? I still can hear your voice in your writing, I can still feel every emotion you poured into the words. I see it flitting across the page like a ghost. God, how I miss seeing you write. I remember one night I woke up and you were hunched over your desk, your computer brightness turned down as far it could be. You had gotten an idea while falling asleep and needed to write it out before it escap...

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The Wine Stain. The Dress. The Glass.

Submitted to Contest #156

[TW: Themes of death and violence] Don’t you remember?            “We’re going to turn on the recording.”            Blood. Screams. Don’t you remember? Remember, don’t you? Don’t remember, you? The knife, clattering to the floor.            “Are you able to answer a few questions for us?”            Bl...

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small moments, those precious things

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember our childhood?” I tried to say this to her with a smile. She was cross-legged on the floor, back leaning against the faded cream couch. Her eyes darted to me as I said it. As if I’d touched on something I shouldn’t have. As if those memories were too tender. “It was an odd one, that’s for sure. Mixed and messy and full of upheaval. But there were little moments in-between. Sun-filled moments, times when we all felt something good. I’ll remind you of them, if you’d like. You don’t have to say anything. Just listen. Close y...

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Anniversary

Submitted to Contest #156

A.C. Jay Anniversary “Don't you remember” the rest of Morgan's question was drowned out by the street noise in lower Manhattan. Claire burrowed deeper into her down jacket, tightened her scarf. Chilled to the bone, she felt certain they were on a fool's errand. “Remember what?” The cacophony of cars, trucks, buses, blaring horns, squealing brakes, prevented Morgan from hearing her response. She grabbed his hand. He spied a narrow gap in the stalled traffic, tugged. At the corner of Canal and Mott someone tripped, fell. A circle formed, s...

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Wool Gathering

Submitted to Contest #156

Don’t you remember? I was young, and the sun was yellow on the grass. We were chaotic children, traipsing with scraped knees and bulging pockets, in the meadow between the library and the brick museum with the two-headed lamb. I don’t remember the other tents on the edge, but I remember the cool of the shadow as I sat crisscrossed, slowly peeling leaves from the grass, as I listened. I don’t remember her face or her voice, but I remember the softness of her sheep and the warm wood of her wheel. And she gave us a clump of her wool to keep....

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I Hope Daisies Are OK

Submitted to Contest #156

Don’t you remember the time you told me I was too good for you? Or, should I say, the first time you told me I was too good for you? I told you I was surprised you thought I was stupid enough to fall for a line like that. I mean, look at all those times you said I was smarter than anyone else in my office, and that I was one of the few people  you could have an intelligent conversation with about anything. I also told you that I had hoped that you at least respected me enough to tell me the truth: That you liked me, but you didn’t lik...

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I Hope You Remember, Because I Will, Forever

Submitted to Contest #156

TRIGGER WARNING: This submission contains themes of violence, substance abuse, and sexual assault. Don't you remember? The night that it happened, you were drinking. Honestly, you shouldn't have been drinking, you were underage. We were so young and in such a bad place overall; maybe that's what drove you. Regardless, you were drinking copious amounts of Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum. I will never forget that because it was your favorite. Freshly married, I thought we were working toward the same goals, held the same ambitions, and were ...

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The Death of Clio Cohen

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember?” My head hangs, looking down at the bloodied shirt next to my feet. The silence is excruciating, leaving only my consciousness racing throughout my scattered memories. “No, I don’t,” I finally reply. Auriel stands up with a frustrated exhale. Her blonde hair glides through the air as she turns around to walk into the kitchen of the grungy studio apartment where a wide array of tools covers the counter tops. The assembly of an LK-549 plasma rifle rattles, Auriel hunched over the kitchen bench with tools in hand. “Argo’s n...

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That's How I See It

Submitted to Contest #156

That's How I See It                          by Presley Kane "Don't you remember?" Shellie Mae expressed the best innocent look on her face as she looked at her sister, Gina. Gina, in return, rolled her eyes at Shellie Mae. "No, Shellie Mae, that is something I do not remember!" Gina looked at the dead and oh so hideous spider at their feet, then glanced back at her sister. "Well, you are the oldest. Therefore, I ...

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Cafe Mina

Submitted to Contest #156

“Don’t you remember?” Ihsan asks. He takes a swig of his hot apple cider. Dannie frowns, and makes a sound as he sips his coffee, that Ihsan interprets as a no. “Dannie come on! We went there every Friday after our watercolors class! You must remember, our watercolors class with our professor who swore he was the reincarnation of Turner! Right?” he explains. He gently shakes Dannie’s shoulder, trying to force the frequent memory back into his mind. “Oh now I remember! Café Mina! The café with the coral tile and the sandwiches with the col...

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