The Clock That Stopped Time

Ali never liked the attic in his grandfather’s old house. It smelled of dust and memories, filled with boxes of faded photos, yellowed letters, and creaking floorboards that groaned under every step. But one rainy afternoon, while hiding from his little sister who wanted him to play tea party for the third time that day, Ali found a small wooden box under a pile of blankets.

Inside lay an old pocket watch, its silver casing scratched, its glass cracked, and its ticking long silenced. Ali picked it up, turning it over in his hands, wondering if it had stories hidden in its gears. On the back, in small letters, was a carving:

“For those who see the world, not just pass through it.”

Curious, Ali twisted the small knob on top. Suddenly, a soft click echoed, and the second hand started moving, trembling as if waking from a long sleep. Ali stood, expecting nothing. But then, everything around him fell silent.

The rain outside stopped mid-drip, frozen in clear drops against the window. The trees outside stood still, leaves caught in mid-air. From downstairs, the sound of his sister’s laughter halted, leaving a hollow quietness in the house. Ali’s eyes widened.

He rushed downstairs. His mother was frozen mid-walk, a mug of tea balanced in her hand, a small, tired smile on her lips that Ali had never noticed before. Outside, the neighborhood children were paused mid-run, a ball suspended inches from the ground.

Time had stopped. Except for him.

Ali panicked, shaking his mother’s arm, but she didn’t move. The world was a photograph, and he was the only one awake inside it.

And then, as quickly as it had come, it ended. The clock clicked again, and the rain resumed its patter, the ball bounced on the ground outside, and his mother blinked, moving again. Ali stood there, heart pounding, clutching the pocket watch.

That night, he lay awake, the watch under his pillow, his mind racing. He decided to try it again the next day. Just after dawn, he wound the watch once more, and again, the world froze. The second hand gave him exactly one minute before it stopped.

At first, Ali used it to sneak chocolates from the kitchen, to peek at his sister’s drawings without her getting angry, and to stay in bed longer before school. It felt like a secret superpower, a game just for him.

But as days passed, Ali began to notice things he hadn’t before. During the paused minute, he saw his mother’s face, tired and lined with worry as she cleaned the living room late at night. He saw the stray dog in the alley behind their house, curled up and shivering in the cold. He saw the old man who sat alone on the park bench every morning, feeding birds with trembling hands and eyes that looked far away.

One morning, as Ali walked past the kitchen, he saw his mother staring at a stack of bills, her eyes glistening with tears she quickly wiped away when she heard footsteps. That night, Ali couldn’t sleep, the image of his mother’s tears haunting him. He realized the watch was not meant for mischief. It was meant for something more.

The next day, during the frozen minute, Ali quietly placed a flower he picked in the park on the old man’s bench. The following day, he used his minute to place a warm piece of bread near the stray dog, watching it slowly wake and sniff the air, tail wagging weakly. Each day, Ali found small ways to help during his secret minute—cleaning the living room while everyone was frozen, placing small notes of encouragement on his mother’s desk, and picking up litter from the street before the world resumed.

Thirty days passed, and on the final day, Ali tried to wind the watch again, but it didn’t tick. The second hand stayed still, refusing to move. Ali felt a pang of sadness, but when he looked outside, he saw the old man smiling as he found the flower, the stray dog following him home wagging its tail, and his mother finding one of his notes and smiling, tears in her eyes.

Ali realized he didn’t need the watch to notice the world around him. He didn’t need time to stop to help people, to see them, to care.

That evening, Ali placed the watch back in its wooden box and returned it to the attic. As he walked downstairs, he saw his sister holding two cups of imaginary tea, waiting for him with a hopeful smile. Ali smiled back and sat down for the tea party.

Because sometimes, a minute is all it takes to change everything. And sometimes, it’s enough to simply be present in the world, one moment at a time.