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Simply, Remembering You

Novel By: littlemissromance13

*Completed* We can all remember things that we’ve done each day. But for Moira (More-ah) Concord that isn’t an option. She can’t remember any detail of her days; the only things she can remember are the people in her life and her amazing singing ability. The memory loss all started after her parents died and she had to move in with a foster family. She remembers small details about her foster family by memory, but everything else she remembers is thanks to her diary that she writes in each night.

Wes Hudson is the bad boy in town. He’s known for starting trouble and getting all the girls he could possibly want. He also happens to be Moira’s foster brother. Even though she doesn’t remember the fact that Wes and she dislike each other, it doesn’t stop her from trying to associate with Wes each day.

But what if something magical happens when Wes and Moira happen to begin a unique relationship? It is a relationship that nobody can know about. Nobody. But what if she begins to remember things? And, what if the bad boy player actually gets tamed?
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Submitted:Mar 17, 2012    Reads: 440    Comments: 22    Likes: 4   



It was like a flash of lightning, something you only see for a split second. That's what it was like when I lost my memory. Everything that I did or have done was gone like a flash of lightning. It was there and never to be seen again.

It all started on the evening of March 10th, 2003.

My parents were supposed to be coming home that day. They were going to take me on a Concord family adventure. But that afternoon somebody thought it would be a good idea to bring a gun into the school that they worked in. The teenage boy shot my mother and my father along with a lot of other students and teachers in the school. My aunt Madison came by the house instead of my parents that night. She told me in a very vague manor what had happened. My young blue green eyes began to tear up and I quickly jumped up from my seat on the ugly green sofa to hug Aunt Madison.

My parents were shot to death by a 16 year old boy.

Sadly, my aunt Madison couldn't take care of me because she just couldn't. Since she couldn't raise me, I was put into a foster care program, where I waited for a lovely family to pick me to be their own daughter. I wanted a family that was going to love me as much as my real mom and dad did. But that hope was short-lived.

I got a family. They were a very rich family that lived on the beach. Apparently, Mister Kevin Hudson was a CEO of some company I've never heard of. Mrs. Susan Hudson was a woman who spent her days shopping, working out, and seeing her rich girlfriends.

"Moira we found you a family!" I still remember Brenda tell me. She was a very nice lady that worked in the foster care program. She would always talk to me about her life. She would also ask me a lot about my life. Sometimes when she would ask me simple questions like, what is your favorite subject in school or what were your parents like, I would forget. My mind would go completely blank. It was like I didn't even know where I went to school and what my parents were like. I knew Brenda knew something was wrong, too. But she just told me that I was going through something very hard right now. Then she would get back to work and let my memory slip go.

I walked out of my small room to face a middle aged woman and an older man. The woman had very light, shiny brown hair, the most perfect blue eyes I've even witnessed, porcelain doll white skin, and she was incredibly tall. I looked up at her and she gave me a smile. Her teeth were even brighter and whiter than her beautiful skin. She put her hand out for me to shake. I shook her hand with a small childish smile. Her hands were very smooth and her fingernails were nice, perfect white-tips. It looked like she just got them done, there are absolutely no chips. She was wearing a turquoise sundress and had black sunglasses on her head. The man standing closely to her was even taller than the woman. If I took I guess I would have said he was at least six feet five inches tall. He had dark curly brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, lightly tan skin, and he was perfectly clean-shaven. He was wearing a dark blue jacket, a blue striped shirt, black dress pants, and black dress shoes. This family was defiantly on the wealthy side.

"Hello Moira, it is so nice to finally meet you. I'm Susan, but you can call me mom."

I smiled again. What if I don't want to call you mom? That was the first thing that popped straight into my little, childish mind. Instead I just said, "It's nice to meet you, too."

Susan grabbed my hand lightly and then told me to follow her. She had her husband sign some papers while we walked outside. It was a bright, beautiful spring day. Susan put on her sunglasses proudly and then took ahold of my hand yet again.

"So Moira, how have you been doing? I know it's probably been very tough for you, but I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything," 'mom' asked me. She actually seemed to be excited. Even though I was only eight years old, I was surprised she would even bother talking to me. Susan was really nice.

"I've been doing alright, but yes, it has been very hard."

Susan put her polished hand on my knee. "Remember, if you ever want to talk I will always be here for you."

I give Susan a nod and then look at the car window. All of a sudden there is a banging on the driver side window. I look over and see Mister Hudson. Susan stretches over and unlocks his door. He takes his seat inside the car and we're off!

"I'm very excited to have you in our family Moira," Mister Hudson tells me.

"Thank you for taking me in."

"You're so beyond welcome! You're a terrific kid Moira," Susan tells me.

Mister Hudson continues driving until we pull up to a humongous home. It was almost gold in color, but not quite. It was ginormous! All three of us exited the car. Susan took my hand again as we walked up the huge driveway. Once inside all I could see were long hallways, amazing furniture, and a huge staircase that could go up forever.

"Wes, please get out here!" Susan yelled.

I was now faced with a boy. He had the same dark brown curly hair as his dad, but his brown eyes were way more alive. He was taller than me by a lot and was quite adorable.

"Wes please say hello to your new sister Moira."

He looked me over and then rolled his eyes at me. "She's not my sister," he said. He ran back off to wherever in the house he came from. Mister Hudson ran after him while Susan took me to my room.

I don't think I have ever seen a room this gorgeous. It was the size of three normal sized bedrooms all in one. The walls were pink along with all the décor.

"If you don't like the pink we will happily change it," Susan told me.

"No, no it's perfect!" I said excitedly.

Susan left me to go talk to Wes. I lay down on my bed, looked up at the pink ceiling, and cried my eyes out.

After that day my memory got worse and worse. I wouldn't remember to bring stuff to school or to tell my new parents about something. And worse of all, I started to forget my past, and now, the lovely people who have taken me in.

Soon after noticing my forgetfulness, my teacher told me to start writing in a diary and maybe taking up an afterschool activity. I agreed with her and right after school I asked Susan if I could start singing in a local choir and get voice lessons. And gave me a wide, happy smile and told me yes.

Singing just came to me with ease. And I remember everything. I remember every song, every flat, every sharp, every note, every part of solefege and the hand signs, I remember everything. I never forget anything. Also thanks to my diary I began remembering normal things. I would bring my work in, I would talk to my foster parents, and I would remember each of the people I associated with daily.

This was the beginning of the rest of my life.


Out of everything that I have been through in my lifetime, that vivid memory is the only thing I can actually remember without looking at my diary. Everything else (besides singing) requires a peek inside my black and white polka dot diary.

My foster mother and foster father have asked doctors for help, but that does nothing. They don't know what is wrong with my memory. It's like that whole part of my brain is dark, unless it comes to singing. Singing has become my favorite activity. I'm not that bad at it either, my teacher tells me that there are a few things I need to improve on, but other than that I am one of the best singers in all three of my choir groups. That makes me more than happy.

Knock, Knock, Knock…

I walk over to my door and open it. Wes gives me his famous sarcastic smile. He does it whenever he wants to piss me off or I'm doing something embarrassing. In this case, he is smiling like an idiot because I am wearing my dressy choir outfit. I am in two choirs and an A Capella group of five girls. First I am in the choir I have been in for ten years now, then my high school choir, and the A Capella group is all the best girls in my school choir singing little ensembles together A Capella. Right now I am wearing my outfit for my little group choir, which includes a tight, curve hugging black dress that goes a bit above my knee, black pantyhose, and one inch black heels.

"Mother hen says you're going to be late for your concert."

I roll my eyes and say, "I won't be late Wes."

With that I walk down the two flights of stairs and then out the front door. I get inside my car, start it, and drive off to the one thing that makes me feel alive.

**Well this is the first chapter of Simply, Remembering You. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm in love with writing it. Anyways, thank you so, so much for reading! Xoxo**


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