Memory Chip by Maya Rainforest (good novels to read .txt) 📕

I thought I would always remember this but over time it has become blurred. Why? I always thought I had a good memory especially if those memories were filled with her.


The night she wore the powder blue flowing evening dress I shall never forget. Or was it mint green?

It matched her eyes I know that much. What colour were her eyes? What happened to me?

I remember going into surgery at Polestark United Hospital to have the memory chip implanted. It cost a bloody fortune.

Why is everything so foggy then? I paid for the best treatment. Sometimes I wonder if my wife was right and it was just old age. She said so only yesterday,

‘Charly love, they didn’t do anything untoward at the hospital. You got the best treatment you know. It’s old age dear that’s all. Non important memories don’t stay when you’re old dear.’

But she wasn’t a non-important memory. Not her. She was the love of my life. But my wife wouldn’t know that would she?

Her eyes were blue, definitely blue. Definitely. Or were they brown? How I fight to keep her image alive in my head. Why is this? It’s almost as if someone had deliberately wiped her image from my mind, if I didn’t know better……

She was beautiful, I can’t forget that. I can’t forget my feelings for her either, I loved her so much. What happened to her? Where is she now? Why didn’t she say goodbye?

I remember a funeral. It wasn’t hers though, it was someone else’s. But I was crying. Why was I crying? I didn’t care about anyone other than her.

There was a child. A girl. Red hair, or was it black?

Whose child was she? Was she mine? Did I have a daughter? Mary. That was her name, Mary.

My daughter Mary, with red hair like her mother. How could I forget.
But my wife has brown hair.

‘We didn’t have children love,’ she said when I asked her, ‘you never wanted children, remember? You said they would drain your finances and destroy your heart.’

Did I say that? Why?

I was there when she was born. It was the most wonderful moment of my life. Where is she now? Was it her funeral? My daughter’s? My Mary, my sweet Mary.

‘You're so confused dear,’ says my wife.

I didn’t pay for the surgery to become confused. That damn memory chip. It cost me a bomb and my memory is worse than ever. But only when I think about her. And about Mary. My daughter. Every other memory is clear and comes to mind easily.

‘There was no child Charly dear. We don’t know anyone called Mary. Stop rambling dear and rest, you’re tired.’

I’m not bloody tired and I’m not bloody confused!

What happened to the woman I loved? What was her name? What colour were her eyes?

I wish I could remember. Why can’t I remember?

Who is my wife talking to now? Always on the goddamn phone. Who is she shouting at saying it didn’t work. What didn’t work?

‘I was discussing the washing machine my love.’

But there’s nothing wrong with the washing machine. Its fine, works like new.


I remember when I bought it. Remember with such clarity. It cost one hundred and eighty two pounds, I remember that. I remember everything.

Why can’t I remember her? She was beautiful and so slim. Except when she was pregnant but even then she was still beautiful.

She was pregnant! I was so happy when she told me. I picked her up and twirled her around in my arms, smiling, shouting. I was to be a father! Praise the Lord!

‘There was no child dear,’ says my wife more sternly now, ‘lie down. Take your medicine, you’ll feel better.’

Goddamn medicine. Poison more like, I don’t want it!

Better lie down, I am tired.

What are those men doing here, what do they want?

‘They are your friends dear. Jack and Terry. Remember?’

No I don’t remember. Never seen them before in my life, who the hell are they? And why are they wearing Polestark United Hospital uniform? What’s going on?


Taken my medicine. Feel better now. My wife is right, I must sleep. Must rest.

Oh there she is, my beautiful Penelope. That was her name. Penelope. Holding the baby, our lovely daughter.

Where is she? What happened to her? Where did she go? Why didn’t she say goodbye.


Penelope I love you, I love you, I love only you.

God I’m sobbing now, why am I sobbing?

‘I love you too dear,’ says my wife, ‘rest now dear. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’

Text: Copyright Magenta Pixie and the Nine
Images: Stock Xchng
Publication Date: 10-16-2012

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