The Memory Delver

The Memory Delver

“What is the price?”

“Not a price,” she corrects you. “What is the cost?”

You take her silent suggestion, and echo her question.

“Your memories. Each of them that falls into the water becomes unravelled- faded and lost.”

You pause and glance away from her strange iridescent eyes. They are the compound eyes of an insect, upon a vaguely human face, sunken deep into the rounded skull which protrudes at the forehead like a cassowary's crest. Her skeletal structure is elongated and fragile. Eyes flash like black fire opals held out to the pale moonlight. She has fine canine teeth and mandibles, and the shrill voice of a songbird. “They sink to the bottom of that lake,

Deeper than you can ever hope to swim. Whatever you leave there you cannot recover, and it is free for me to take.”

Your gaze turns to the inky mere that swallows the light of the cavern. Its still surface carries a stagnant odour. The cold air feels haunted by spores of miasma. “How does it work?”

“Submerge,

And think of the memories you wish to purge,

But beware, the water has an alluring current, that draws you deeper and unravels your mind,

Sometimes people emerge as shells of themselves, with all of their thoughts and memories left behind.

Many say that is what they are here to do, but they are often burdened by regret,

Because they chose a fundamental part of themselves to cast aside and to forget.”

She reaches into an ornate stone commode, and picks out what looks like a small gemstone. It casts its own dim light. It is not enough to illuminate the cavern, but its radiance still captures your attention. “This is the fragment of an ordinary recollection,”

She claims, before returning it to its place.

“Meanwhile, this is one of the prize jewels of my collection.”

The next piece she displays is a dazzling star, its radiance casts a blinding glow that stings your eyes and brings you to tears of emotion.

“This memory is of a child’s first step, it was lost by its owner unintentionally when the current dragged him in,

I wanted to let you know that something like this is what you risk losing before you begin.

You need to understand

what you are dealing with. This is not a simple matter at hand.”

The warning she gives is dire, but it falls upon deaf ears. “What do you care what happens to the people who’s memories you trade for?”

She seems to be offended. Her tone darkens and she puts away the beautiful gem of a memory she displayed. Despite her anger, she tucks it gently into its case.

“Make no mistake,

I do not take

For taking’s sake.

I take what you leave behind. I am a scavenger of thoughts and emotions. I live vicariously through the treasures of experiences people eagerly sacrifice.

Often people find that the cost they agreed to isn’t worth the price.”

You meet her eyes with adamance. “That doesn’t matter to me.”

She frowns. “Are you sure?

Once your memories leave your head, they can’t be returned. It is not within my power and for the loss there is no cure.”

You can’t help but be perplexed by her concern. She seems to judge you with shame and pity for coming to bargain with her. “Why do you do this? Trade memories?”

“I cannot forge memories of my own,

That is the curse of my immortal existence.

No matter what I do, I cannot know what it is like to feel time pass from my infancy to when I am grown,

Instead I reside in this hollow cave outside reality,

suffering the curse of the banality

of my half-life’s stale persistence. Memories are my treasures,

They soothe me and grant me mortal pleasures.”

“How about the painful ones?”

“The ones people came here willingly to forget?

They are hard to endure and confront, but I feel that if I were in most peoples’ situations, even they would not be worth sacrificing without a sense of regret.”

“Why?”

“Because of what they teach,

Often life’s wisdoms are far out of reach,

They lie in a crucible of pain,

And to willingly reach in is something from which most people refrain.

There cannot be colour without shade,

We cannot denounce the experiences upon which we are made.

Otherwise existence is hollow.

Hiding from the light as we flinch from our sorrow.

A book of blank pages, because we would rather hide from bitter experiences than take them for what they are.

Once you learn to leave them behind in peace, you will find that the strength you gained gave you the capacity to go far.”

“Bullshit!”

She pays your outburst no regard.

“You are as stubborn as most,

But I discovered that the ones who would return from the water broken were the ones who were adamant and had outbursts, were headstrong and would boast.

No matter which way you inevitably feel,

A bargain is a bargain and a deal is a deal.”

Her argument seems to be over. You breathe out a sigh of relief. She has done what she wanted and issued her warning. Yet you know that at the end of the line there is no way for her to stop you. Regardless of what she claims, she wants the memories that haunt your mind. Her feigned concern is to salve her conscience. She is frustratingly persistent.

“The question remains the same. Will you regret

Casting aside the memories- even the ones you chose to forget?”

“I have made up my mind to lose it. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have come to you.”

She pauses and blinks before letting you pass. “I suppose that is true.”

You take a few steps forward towards the beckoning depths of the shadowed mere.

“Dive into the water and emerge anew.”

This is the first short story I ever published. It was with my University’s magazine ‘Warwick Uncanny’ in their ‘Volume 11 No 1 issue.’ Here is a link to access the full magazine so that you can read the works of the other talented writers I was published alongside.