By: Ameer Ali
On the edge of a forgotten village, where the wind sang through crooked chimneys and grass grew wild over abandoned roads, there stood an old stone tower.
No one remembered who built it. No one dared go near it after sundown.
Its windows were narrow and dark, like watchful eyes. Its stones were weathered by centuries of storms, yet it never seemed close to falling. The villagers told stories—some whispered of treasure hidden inside, others swore it was a prison for a restless spirit.
But to Elias, a curious boy with more courage than sense, the tower was not a place of fear—it was a place of questions. One misty morning, he walked through the overgrown path leading to its base. The heavy wooden door, scarred with scratches, creaked open as if expecting him.
Inside, dust danced in beams of light. Spiral stairs twisted upward, each step echoing under his feet. Halfway up, he found carvings on the wall—strange symbols, almost like a map.
At the very top, Elias discovered a single room, round and silent, except for the faint sound of the wind. In the center stood a pedestal, and upon it, an ancient brass key. When his fingers touched it, the air seemed to hum, and a voice—not loud, but steady—spoke in his mind:
“Every tower is a door. The question is, do you have the courage to open it?”
Elias never told the villagers what happened next. But from that day on, the tower’s windows no longer looked dark. They glowed faintly at night, as if something inside had finally woken up.
