'Memory Man' - Flash Fiction - John Wheatley

It was his blessing and his curse. He remembered everything. So, of course, he passed all his exams with flying colours. Nothing was ever lost. Good or bad. Everything was still there. And it took only the tiniest of promptings to bring it back.

Dates, formulas, lists of figures, of facts, incidents, bus timetables. There was no end of it. Once, when he was eleven, he witnessed an armed robbery in a local Spa shop, and when the police questioned him as a witness, he could give them such accurate detail that they eyed him suspiciously, obviously thinking he was making some of it up, which he wasn't. He was better than the CCTV. 

He tried to talk to a mate. People said talking to someone could help. A problem shared… But his mate immediately referred to Memory Man, the music hall act in The 39 Steps.

Great film! his mate said.

No, it’s not like that, he tried to explain. 

But that was what got him his nickname. Like Memory Man in The 39 Steps. A bit of a freak. And he couldn’t shake it off.

Sometimes it was all right, but just distracting. Sometimes it was awful. And as he grew older, he realised he had the additional problem of not just remembering, but remembering the memories of remembering.

It drove him mad.

Day and night.

Day after day.

Night after night. 

One day, he met a girl who said, I can make you forget. He looked at her and saw that she meant it.

In later life, that was the one thing he remembered.