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People called them the Memory-keeper, for they collected memories the way others collected books. They had another name, of course, but Demons are particular about these kind of things. Names have power, after all, and they preferred “Memory-Keeper” in any case.
The memories were kept in little glass vials- not dissimilar to the jars that perfumes were kept in. They sparkled in the light and glowed in the dark, and they were altogether quite pretty to look at.
Experiencing them was a different matter altogether, for when others heard that there was a Demon willing to take memories, they offered the worst parts of themselves. The Memory-keeper didn’t mind. They’d devised a system. He could take one’s worst memories away, but in return, he wanted a happy memory as well. It was a system of checks and balances.
The Memory-Keeper had a routine. They would polish the vials every morning, and then he would collect more, and then they would return home and study them. They enjoyed these glimpses into other lives.
And then one day, he got a letter.
Dear Memory Keeper,
I’ve met you before, or at least I think I have. I recently overheard that you can remove unwanted memories, and something rung a bell in my brain, even as I swore I’d never heard of such a thing. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt like something was missing. Therefore, I believe I may have done business with you in the past.
Is it possible that I could come visit, to see what I have lost? I wouldn’t ask, only if I had made a deal, I don’t remember the terms of the contract. If not possible, I would at least like to know what happens with the memories once they are harvested. I am a curious creature.
Sincerely,
Julian Baker
The Memory-keeper read the letter once, and then again. And then he wrote back.
Dear Mr. Baker,
First off, I am delighted to receive your letter. It is not often that us Demons receive mail; most skip straight to the summoning.
As for your inquiry: Yes, we have made a deal. It was a year and a half ago. You offered me the memory of a love you had lost, and I took it gladly. The memories are safe in my possession. There is nothing in the contract that would prevent you from visiting- you are, in fact, the first who has made this request.
I am also a curious creature and would love the satisfaction of settling yours. If it pleases you, we may meet in one fortnight. I will make arrangements.
Sincerely,
The Memory-Keeper
It did please Julian, and in two weeks he found himself standing the Memory-Keeper’s home, in the room where they kept the memories. It was cozier than he expected. In fact, it felt rather like a well-read library, except instead of books, there were rows and rows of vials on shelves.
“So you keep all of them?” Julian asked, looking around in wonder.
“Of course,” The Memory-Keeper answered. “They are my pride and joy. I’ll admit, I take them not because I’m doing a favor, but because I enjoy having them.”
“Fascinating….,” Julian said. “Does this mean… do you still have mine?”
The Memory-keeper nodded, and after some searching, removed a vial from the shelf. Inside, a silvery-blue liquid swirled. It looked like a galaxy to Julian. He inhaled sharply. Part of him wanted to reach out and grab it, but he knew it would have been very rude, and very unwise to take something from a demon without permission, although nothing about the Memory-Keeper had proven to be malevolent.
The Memory-Keeper seemed to sense his emotions. “Would you like to hold it?”
“Yes,” Julian said, his eyes still fixated on the memory. As he reached for it though, his hand wavered. “If I hold it… will I remember?”
“Only if you open it.”
Julian took it. The vial felt warm in his hand and he swore as he touched it, it grew brighter. It was as if the memory was calling to him. As if it knew it belonged to him.
A little breathlessly, he asked a question. “Should I open it?”
“That,” The Memory-Keeper said, “Is up to you.”
“Would there be a price to pay?”
The Memory-Keeper considered this. “There is always a price to pay. If you open it, you are faced with what you wanted to forget. If you leave, you are faced with the knowledge that a part of you is missing.”
Julian knew how that knowledge felt. He'd felt it ever since he'd heard the story of the Memory-Keeper and realized he'd heard it before. It was like an itch in his brain that he couldn't scratch. He rotated the vial in his hands, examining it from every angle. As he studied the memory inside, he thought he could see figures begin to form, but they were shadowy and out of focus.
But he was still indecisive. “What would you do?”
“Nobody's ever asked me before,” the Memory-Keeper said. “And no-one has ever come back for their memories until you. That leads me to believe that some part of you wants it to return. But selfishly, I wouldn't mind keeping your memory for myself. It is an excellent one, a perfect mix of sadness and joy.”
Julian thought back to the reply to his letter. “You said I had a lost love. Is that true?”
The Memory-Keeper nodded.
A lost love… Julian considered this. He thought of the Memory-Keeper’s words. A perfect mix of sadness and joy. It sounded like poetry, and wasn’t that what love was? He’d never thought of himself as lucky in love. Perhaps this was why. And as he thought about this, he realized he wanted this, to know love all over again, even if it ended in heartbreak.
Julian opened the vial, and drank.