when Ahaan found it.
He had been walking home after school, his head heavy with thoughts — the alley, the missing memory, the vanishing owl keychain. Something inside him still felt empty.
The streets were quiet. The sky was grey.
Raindrops fell like little needles on his jacket.
As he passed a junk store near the edge of town, something in the window caught his eye.
A small wooden music box.
Beautiful.
Old.
Painted with tiny stars and moons. Dusty, but glowing under the rain-soaked glass. And something about it whispered to him — not in words, but in a strange humming sound inside his mind.
He walked in.
The shop was dark and smelled like wet wood and old books.
"Hello?" he called.
No answer.
He looked around. Broken toys. Dolls missing eyes. Rusted mirrors.
He walked toward the shelf.
The music box was still there.
A note lay beside it:
"Do not wind after midnight."
That was it. No price. No name.
He reached out, half-expecting it to be too cold or too warm — like the cursed objects he'd found before.
But it was… calm.
Almost comforting.
He tucked it into his bag.
That night, Ahaan sat on his bed, staring at the box.
It had a little silver key on the side.
He turned it.
Once.
Twice.
And the melody began.
Soft.
Sweet.
Like a lullaby someone once sang to him long ago.
Then the room changed.
The air turned colder.
His lights flickered.
He looked up — and froze.
There was a figure sitting at the foot of his bed.
A woman.
Long hair covering her face.
Wearing an old blue sari.
She didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just sat there.
Ahaan couldn't breathe.
He wanted to scream, but the song held his voice.
The woman slowly turned her head.
And whispered his name.
"Ahaan…"
He backed away.
"Who are you?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she pointed to the box.
"You opened the memory.
Now feel the truth."
Suddenly — he remembered something.
A hallway.
A woman holding his hand.
A dark room.
And the sound of screaming.
But whose voice?
Was it his?
Or hers?
The vision faded.
The woman disappeared.
The music box stopped.
The room went quiet again.
The next morning, Ahaan felt tired.
Exhausted, like he hadn't slept at all.
He stared at the box.
And saw a new note underneath it.
In his own handwriting:
"Don't open again. She's still inside."
But he didn't remember writing that.
At all.
He hid the box under his pillow.
Went to school.
Tried to forget.
But that night…
He heard it playing.
By itself.
Soft, broken notes from under the pillow.
He didn't touch it.
Didn't wind it.
It just… played.
And when he pulled it out—
There was another change.
The wood looked darker. The stars on it were now cracked.
And the melody?
Slower.
Sadder.
Like it was dying.
That night, he didn't sleep.
Because every time the box played, the woman came back.
But this time, she wasn't alone.
In the corners of his room, other figures stood.
Blurry.
Shadow-like.
Faces hidden.
All watching.
All humming the tune.
And one of them?
Had his father's voice.
"Why did you leave me there, Ahaan?"
"You let them take me."
Tears filled Ahaan's eyes.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered.
But no one answered.
Only the song.
And the cold.
The book in his bag flipped open by itself.
Words burned onto a blank page:
CASE TWELVE:
The Music Box of the Forgotten
Every tune it plays is a memory.
But not all memories are yours.
Some belong to the lost.
Some belong to the dead.
And some… were buried for a reason.
Below that, more words formed:
If it plays one more time…
you will forget your own name.
The next evening, Ahaan went back to the junk shop.
But it wasn't there.
Just an empty lot.
No building.
No window.
Nothing.
Gone.
Like it had never existed.
But the music box was still in his hands.
Still warm.
Still humming softly even without being touched.
He knew he couldn't destroy it.
If he tried, something worse might escape.
So he buried it.
Deep in the woods behind his school.
Under wet leaves and thick roots.
He whispered, "Stay there."
But as he turned to leave, he heard the last few notes of the tune play one final time from the soil:
"La… la… la…"
And in the wind, a girl's voice sang gently:
"Ahaan… come back when you remember"
Now....