a quiet village near the river, there stood an abandoned house at the end of a narrow road. No one dared to enter it—except for a curious boy named Arif.
One rainy afternoon, while chasing his lost kite, Arif found himself standing in front of the old house. The wooden door creaked open with a gentle push. Inside, dust covered everything, and cobwebs hung like curtains from the ceiling.
In the center of the living room stood a tall, antique clock. Its pendulum was still moving, even though the house had no electricity. Tick… tock… tick… tock…
Arif stepped closer. The clock suddenly chimed thirteen times.
Thirteen?
As the last chime echoed, the room began to change. The dusty walls turned fresh and bright. The broken furniture became new again. Outside the window, instead of rain, he saw sunshine and people dressed in clothes from long ago.
Arif realized he had traveled back in time.
A little girl appeared in front of him. "You can only stay until the clock strikes thirteen again," she whispered. "Then you must return."
Arif spent what felt like hours exploring the past—learning stories about the house and the people who once lived there. He discovered that the clock was built by a lonely inventor who wished to see happier times again.
When the clock struck thirteen once more, everything began to fade. The girl smiled and said, "Remember, time is precious."
Suddenly, Arif was back in the dusty old house. The clock had stopped. The pendulum was still.
He ran home, holding not his kite—but a memory he would never forget.
And from that day on, Arif understood: some mysteries are not meant to be solved, but to be treasured.