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Miranda's Memories by Winson Thai While waiting for the legalization of same-sex marriages in her state, a lesbian recalls how... [12,209 words]
The Secrecy Of Discrimination by Winson Thai Based on the "Family Matters" episode "Fight the Good Fight," an African-American... [4,100 words]
A Lesbian Turnover by Winson Thai A one-paragraph story based on a scene from a documentary I have a copy of about lesbian rap... [248 words]
The Stranger Behind The Door by Winson Thai A one-paragraph story based on a scene from an old movie I saw [260 words]
The Railfan by Shelley J Alongi Story 1. We meet Matthew Martinez Glen Streicher's teenage railfan friend. Fever, basketball, a con... [5,360 words]
Truth Need Be Hidden by Angel Of Hope - [1,962 words]
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Precious Gift by Chrissi Wylde True beauty is more than what we see everyday. [256 words]
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Advanced Life In Lake Vancouver by Ellie Burton A fantasy short story, uncompleted. [7,153 words]
A Week In Hell by Luke Richardson This was a journal I kept while fishing in Alaska. It is humorous, witty, and a bit humbling. My... [4,858 words]
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Still Life. (Story) by Terry Collett - [613 words]
Sofia's Shadow. by Terry Collett - [591 words]
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Relatively Old by Kenneth C Hoffman This is a true story designed to entertain the reader. [337 words]
Nonexistent Memories
Myfanwy Price And Her Dark Dreams Of 1959. by Terry Collett - [521 words]
Lost In Wal-Mart by Kc Walton About a little kid getting lost in Wal-Mart! Very funny! [250 words]
Emily's Enigma. by Terry Collett - [2,919 words]
Christmas 1969. by Terry Collett - [626 words]
Advent 1968 by Terry Collett - [618 words]
A Not So Happy Birthday by Kenneth C Hoffman The sad fact is that divorce affects the children most. Here is a story through the ey... [881 words]
(Pt.2 Of) Costlee Tha Sno' Man by Dream Rinsed An under the influence of_retelling of "Frosty the Snow Man". [167 words]
(Part3 Of) Costlee Tha Sno' Man by Dream Rinsed An under the influence of_retelling of "Frosty the Snow Man" [180 words]
(End Of) Costlee Tha Sno' Man by Dream Rinsed An under the influence of_retelling of "Frosty the Snow Man" [153 words]
You've Got It Bad And That Ain't Good. by Terry Collett - [2,923 words]
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Ri--'s Storie by Rimsha Ramzan Rana STORY NO: 1= TRUE FRIENDSHIP OF GHOST STORY NO: 2= THE LAST HAPPINESS STORY NO: 3= SAVE SOMETHING... [141 words]
Deranged Girl by Terry Collett - [513 words]
Costlee Tha Sno' Man (Pt.1) by Dream Rinsed An under the influence of_retelling of "Frosty the Snow Man" [176 words]
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What A Drowned Mother Wants. by Terry Collett - [759 words]
Pretending To Sleep. by Terry Collett - [1,050 words]
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Happy Birthday, Me by Katie R Whiting - [503 words]
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A Cam Model by Wael El-Manzalawy - [332 words]
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The Cat And The Mouse by Piper Davenport An adventure short story. [1,367 words]
Sister Ambrose At Close Of Day. by Terry Collett - [645 words]
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An Obligation In Kalamazoo by Piper Davenport - [1,298 words]
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Meeting Of Lips by Soron - [1,231 words]
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The Time Of Her Time by Dream Rinsed a tale about a woman's dark passions told in song (intensedarkgroove) [151 words]
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TITLE (EDIT)
Nonexistent Memories
DESCRIPTION
-
[455 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Relationships
AUTHOR
Natasha Juran
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
[October 2009]
Nonexistent Memories
Natasha Juran




	And so I remember things that never happened.
When I walk through the hidden stairwell, holding the blue railing and treading the once-white stairs, the dim orange light, I look like every other student, set on my course to history class. But I am silent in the world of noise, and I tread lightly on the stairs, remembering. This is the step that I stood on. This is his, one below mine. I remember the warm taste of elixir in his mouth; I remember the sudden collision of strength and fragility in my body. First kiss. 
	The memory is sacred, the memory is profane. The remembrance is full of forgiveness and blame. And when I turn on the landing, I hold a hush in my brain: that’s the cinderblock corner, hard and sharp, where I finally felt beloved. Beloved. With the disease ever tightening its vise grip on my heart, five minutes left to live, all my longings and lustings and lovings came to a close at their beginning. He held me; he wept. I kissed him; I slept. Newborn, I felt the absolute security of his arms around me, felt the warmth spreading from his chest into mine, felt the protection and love as he treasured me, cherished me, and I like to think it wasn’t only because I was saying goodbye. And when I walk by that corner in everyday life, I quiet my steps in that place where I died. 
	I feel his kisses on my collarbone again, his hands around my waist: ghost lips and ghost hands. Phantom lust and phantom love. He walks these halls no longer, and I wander in them lonely and shivering, clinging to rags of memory to stay warm. But the rags, small comfort that they provide, are nothing. They are memories of a dream; they are transparent at best, pulsing with life only for those few minutes of inattention in chemistry class. 
	And yet I feel a need for holy silence in that stairwell: it is a sacred place. Made sinful and sanctified by the memory of a daydream. The exotic taste of forbidden fruit and the sad smell of disappointment mix in my mouth when I touch the wall that we didn’t lean on, when I descend those stairs that we never kissed on. But I come by my feelings honestly at least. The whole place is knotted with dreams and reality, love and lust, utter happiness and complete sadness, death and life, beginnings and endings, truth and falsity—such a snarl of paradoxes that angels and devils would tiptoe by it.
	But I am no angel and no devil neither. 
I am only human; and all that we touch becomes both hellish and holy.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2009 Natasha Juran
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
October 2009
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1416
 

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