"The Clock's Curse: A Haunted Timepiece That Dragged Its Victim into Darkness "The silence of the night was broken by a single sound—

The silence of the night was broken by a single sound—

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Each tick of the ancient brass clock stabbed deeper into Abid's chest, like invisible needles.

He had just bought the old clock shop that very morning.

Located deep within the forgotten part of the city, "Mehar Clock House" had been gathering dust for over a century.

The old owner, a frail, limping man, had given him a crooked smile and said:

"Take good care of the clocks... Time knows everything."

Abid had laughed it off. But that very night, the real nightmare began.

He stumbled upon an old wooden box hidden under a broken floorboard.

It was covered in dust, yet the lock on it was strangely new and polished.

Curiosity clawed at him. He broke the lock and opened it.

Inside lay a bizarre, ancient wristwatch.

The glass was cracked and smeared with what looked suspiciously like dried blood.

And then—

All the clocks in the store chimed at once.

Tick. Tick.

DONG. DONG.

Tick. Tick.

Papers flew into the air. The clocks swung violently as if caught in a storm.

A sudden chill wrapped around Abid’s body, sinking into his bones.

Before he could react, he felt a cold breath on the back of his neck.

"Time's up,"

a whisper slithered into his ear.

Abid bolted toward the door, but it slammed shut with a force that shook the floor.

Fog poured in from the cracks of the walls, thick and suffocating.

Through the mist, a figure began to emerge—

A young woman, with bloodshot eyes, torn throat, and a face twisted in agony.

"You took my time..."

the girl rasped.

Abid’s mind raced.

The old man had mentioned something—the story of a teenage girl who had vanished decades ago, clutching a cursed watch.

No one had ever found her.

Until now.

The ghostly figure extended a decaying hand toward him.

Behind her, the clocks started spinning backwards.

Time itself was unraveling.

Abid tried desperately to shove the watch back into the box.

But it was too late.

The clock hands stopped.

Everything fell silent.

Then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound came from inside the shop.

"You cannot return what you have stolen,"

the whisper came again, closer this time.

Abid turned, slowly.

The girl was right behind him.

Her mouth opened wide, unnaturally wide, and from within spilled dozens of shadowy hands.

They grabbed Abid, dragging him into the swirling darkness.

The next morning, neighbors found the shop abandoned.

The clocks inside still ticked... but now, every single one was running backward.

On the dusty floor beneath the grandfather clock, there lay a single, burned scrap of paper.

It read only one word, written in something darker than ink:

"Time."

And somewhere, hidden deep within the shop, a whisper echoed—

still waiting for the next soul to hear the ticking.