The Jar Collector

He kept all his emotions in jars, neatly labed and sealed—until one shattered.

As he always did, Elias lined up the last bottles on his shelf for the day. Time after time, new emotions were bottled up and labeled. Elias had many shelves, way too many. He stored his most memorable moments on the biggest shelf.

Contentment: (Final Finished) Tuesday, 2:30 PM, 1989—next to it was Resentment: (Mother's Birthday) Thursday, 6:07, 2008, and then there was Embarrassment: (The Interview) Monday, 5:00 AM, 1997.

He finished putting his emotions away. They were on display, for no one but him to see. There was one jar he had hidden far away, for even he had no desire to see it.

Shame: Saturday, 3:26, 1966. He had labeled it as Father’s Death. The first emotion he had placed away, the start of his repression. It was an old jar his mother had given him the day it happened, his mother had shown him how to suppress these feelings before they could fester and rot inside him.

Elias believed today would end up like any other, but he was sadly mistaken. The bottles were now finished for the day, he started deciding what to do with his day. Maybe he would cook something, or take a nap, but as he opened the door to leave, that’s when he heard it, a thud from the one room he swore never to open again.

He ran to the room, hoping he could close it in time, but it was too late. Pieces of glass covered the ground, gas seeping from the bottom of the jar. He tried to flee, running as fast as he could, there was no use though, the gas had filled the entire room.

One by one, each jar broke, all his emotions finally breaking after years of hiding them away. The room was engulfed in colorful smoke, you could hear the rows of jars breaking apart one by one. Elias was on his knees, begging for it to just be a dream; he had bottled up his emotions too much, and now there was nowhere else for them to go.

As the emotions surrounded him, he felt relieved, like there had been a heavy weight on his shoulder that was finally lifted. There was no need to run anymore, he knew his fate was about to ruin him. His own emotions, which he had bottled up for decades, finally came back to consume his entire being.

He knew it was just a matter of time; a matter of life and death. He sat there as the gas filled his lungs; for the first time, he had finally let go.

Wednesday, 7:37 PM, 2025. The End