The Memory Collection Shop

Nobody noticed the shop during daytime.

It stood hidden inside one of the oldest alleys in the city, squeezed between two abandoned buildings covered in rain stains and black mold. There was no signboard outside. No lights. No customers.

And yet, somehow…

People who carried unbearable memories always found their way there.

Most never spoke about it afterward.

Arman first heard about the shop after his third sleepless week.

The nightmares had become unbearable.

Every night he saw the same thing.

A little girl standing at the end of a dark hospital corridor.

Her face burned black.

Her eyes empty.

And every time she whispered the same words:

“You left me there.”

Arman always woke up screaming.

Sweat soaked his bedsheets. His hands shook uncontrollably. Some nights he stayed awake until sunrise just to avoid sleeping again.

Because deep down, he knew the nightmare was real.

Five years earlier, during a terrible apartment fire, Arman escaped the burning building alone.

But another child had still been trapped inside.

He remembered hearing her screams behind him.

He remembered running away anyway.

Nobody ever found the girl’s body.

And ever since then…

The guilt never left him.

One rainy evening, while sitting inside a nearly empty tea stall, an old man suddenly sat beside him and quietly asked:

“Do you want to forget?”

Arman looked at him nervously.

The stranger smiled faintly.

Then slid a small black card across the table.

On it were only four words.

The Memory Collection Shop

And beneath that—

An address.

That same night, Arman found himself standing inside a narrow alley he had never seen before.

Rainwater dripped from broken pipes above him.

The deeper he walked, the quieter the city became.

Then he saw the shop.

A tiny wooden door hidden between shadows.

A weak yellow light glowed behind dusty glass windows.

Arman hesitated.

Every instinct told him to leave.

But another nightmare waited for him at home.

Slowly, he stepped inside.

A small bell rang softly above the door.

The inside of the shop smelled old.

Like wet paper and dust.

Wooden shelves covered every wall from floor to ceiling. Hundreds of glass jars sat neatly arranged in rows.

Inside each jar floated strange swirling smoke.

Some black.

Some gray.

Some dark red.

Arman stared uneasily at them.

Then he noticed something horrifying.

Whispers.

The jars were whispering.

Hundreds of faint human voices filled the shop at once.

Crying.

Screaming.

Begging.

Arman stepped backward in terror.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

A calm voice spoke behind him.

An old man stood near the counter wearing a perfectly black suit. His pale hands rested gently on a wooden cane.

His smile looked unnatural.

Too still.

Too practiced.

“You collect memories?” Arman asked quietly.

The old man nodded.

“Painful ones only.”

Lightning flashed outside the window.

For a brief second, Arman noticed something wrong with the shopkeeper’s shadow.

It moved slightly later than his body.

“You can remove memories?” Arman whispered.

The old man smiled wider.

“I can remove suffering.”

For several seconds, Arman remained silent.

Then he finally asked:

“How much?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes darkened slightly.

“You already paid the price the moment you entered.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

Before Arman could speak again, the old man raised one pale hand toward him.

Instantly—

A horrible pain exploded inside Arman’s head.

His vision blurred violently.

The hospital fire flashed before his eyes.

The burning hallway.

The screaming child.

Smoke everywhere.

And then—

Darkness.

When Arman woke up, he was lying outside the alley in heavy rain.

The shop was gone.

As if it had never existed.

For the first time in years…

The nightmare was gone too.

Arman laughed shakily.

Relief flooded through his body.

The guilt had disappeared completely.

He could barely even remember the little girl’s face anymore.

Over the next few days, his life slowly returned to normal.

He slept peacefully.

He smiled more.

The constant fear inside him finally faded.

Until the knocking started.

The first knock came at exactly 3:13 AM.

Three slow knocks against his apartment door.

Arman woke up immediately.

His heart pounded as he stared into the darkness.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

He forced himself to stand and check the hallway outside.

Nobody was there.

Only silence.

The next night, it happened again.

This time the knocking came from his bedroom window.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Arman slowly pulled the curtain aside.

And froze.

A little girl stood outside the building in the rain.

Burned black skin.

Empty eyes.

Looking directly at him.

Arman stumbled backward in terror.

The girl slowly raised one hand toward the window.

Then smiled.

The lights inside the apartment instantly died.

Darkness swallowed the room.

And somewhere nearby—

A child began laughing softly.

After that night, the sightings became worse.

Mirrors fogged up with tiny handprints.

Wet footprints appeared inside locked rooms.

At night, Arman heard breathing beside his bed.

Sometimes he woke up unable to move while someone stood in the corner of the room watching him silently.

And every time—

He remembered less and less about the fire.

It felt as though the memory itself was disappearing permanently.

But the thing connected to it was becoming stronger.

One night, Arman finally returned to the alley searching desperately for the shop.

But the alley looked abandoned.

Empty.

No lights.

No door.

Nothing.

Then he heard the voice behind him.

“You sold the memory,” the shopkeeper whispered calmly.

“But not what lived inside it.”

Arman turned slowly.

The old man stood smiling in darkness.

Behind him—

Hundreds of shadowy human figures stared from the alley walls.

Their bodies twisted unnaturally.

Their hollow eyes fixed on Arman.

The shopkeeper stepped closer.

“Pain never truly disappears,” he whispered.

“It only finds a new home.”

Then every shadow in the alley began moving toward him at once.

And somewhere among them—

The little girl started laughing again.