Trapped in the Time Maze -Mamun Ahmed

Twelve-year-old Zayed Yusuf had always been curious about things most people ignored—like why the old basement in his grandfather’s house had three locks, or why the wall behind the dusty bookshelf made a humming sound at midnight.

It was during the summer holidays, while his parents were visiting family overseas, that Zayed found himself staying with Grandpa Rabiul in the quiet, ancient town of Al-Qarfa. The town was stitched together with winding alleys, crumbling stone arches, and stories whispered by the wind.

One lazy afternoon, Zayed’s boredom got the better of him. Grandpa Rabiul had dozed off with the Qur’an resting on his chest. Zayed tiptoed to the forbidden basement door.

The first lock opened with a paperclip. The second with the tip of a spoon. The third—well, the key had been hanging on the kitchen wall all along.

The door creaked open, and cold air rolled out, like breath from a sleeping dragon.

Inside, the basement was a maze of old trunks, glass jars filled with faded scrolls, and cobwebbed contraptions. But what caught Zayed’s eye was the towering grandfather clock standing at the far end, its pendulum swinging—but not ticking.

The clock face had no numbers. Only strange symbols, circles within circles, and at the center—a tiny golden crescent moon.

Drawn to it, Zayed touched the crescent.

Suddenly, everything shook.

The air warped, twisting like glass in heat. A golden whirlpool formed beneath his feet, and with a terrified shout, Zayed was sucked into the clock.

Zayed hit the ground hard—on sand.

But this wasn’t just any desert. The sky above him shimmered with five moons. Mountains floated in mid-air. Trees grew upside down.

A glowing sign flickered above a golden arch: “Welcome to the Maze of Time.”

“What is this place?” Zayed muttered, brushing sand from his face. His smartwatch was blinking strangely. The screen read: “Time Unavailable.”

A voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere.

“Only the heart that remembers can find the path that returns.”

Before Zayed could respond, the ground shifted again, and stone walls rose around him, forming a maze.

Footsteps.

Zayed spun around. A girl, about his age, wearing a traveler’s cloak and a tiny satchel, stood at the corner.

“Who are you?” Zayed asked.

“I’m Ayah,” she replied cautiously. “I’ve been trapped here for five days. Or maybe five months. Time doesn’t work here.”
She tossed him a pouch. “You’ll need this.”

Inside were three things: a glowing compass that spun aimlessly, a folded map with moving ink, and a tiny prayer bead loop with thirty-three green beads.

“What is this place?” Zayed repeated.

“It’s the Time Maze,” Ayah said grimly. “It traps people who get too curious. It bends time around your choices. Every wrong turn takes you to a different era—and a different test.”

Zayed’s pulse quickened. “You mean we’re stuck here forever?”

“Unless…” Ayah hesitated. “Unless we reach the Center. That’s where the Gatekeeper is. He holds the key to the Clock of Return.”

The map changed every minute, making planning useless. The compass pointed not north, but to the nearest test.

Their first trial came quick.

A passage led to a colossal library guarded by a hooded figure with silver eyes.

“To pass,” the guardian said, “find the scroll that holds the verse of light.”

Zayed blinked. “What verse?”

Ayah whispered, “I remember from my Qur’an class—Ayat an-Nur. The Verse of Light.”

Rows of scrolls towered above them, twisting like living vines. Zayed closed his eyes and thought of the words he’d heard his grandfather recite.

“Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth…”

Suddenly, a scroll glowed faintly.

“That one!” he shouted.

The guardian nodded and stepped aside, allowing them to pass.

They didn’t get far before the next challenge: a roaring river that whispered doubts into their ears.

“You’ll never leave.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“Why believe in hope?”

Ayah dropped to her knees, shaking.

Zayed clutched the rosary from his pouch and began to whisper “SubhanAllah… Alhamdulillah… Allahu Akbar…” over and over, each word silencing a whisper in his head.

When Ayah joined in, the river’s current stilled. A path of light appeared across it.

Days passed—at least, they thought they were days. The maze threw them through icy tundras, scorching deserts, silent cities in the clouds. In each era, they faced puzzles: broken clocks. They kept each other alive with courage, kindness—and faith.

But as they neared the Center, Ayah’s steps slowed.

“I don’t think I can go on,” she said.

Zayed looked at her, his own feet blistered and his heart aching. “We’ve come too far. And remember what the voice said—‘Only the heart that remembers can return.’ We remember who we are. We remember Allah. That’s enough.”

They reached a towering door made of flowing sand—an hourglass turned on its side.

An old man in a green robe sat before it. His eyes twinkled like stars.

“You’ve done well,” he said. “But to open the door, you must each give up something precious.”

Zayed swallowed. He opened his satchel and took out the prayer beads. “They kept me grounded. But I trust the path.”

Ayah handed over her map. “It got us here. But now we don’t need it.”

The old man nodded. The hourglass shimmered—and cracked open.

Inside was a platform with a golden clock, identical to the one in Grandpa Rabiul’s basement. It ticked for the first time.

“Step in,” the old man said. “You’ll return to your world—but one day, the Maze may call you again.”

Zayed gasped as he sat up.

He was back in the basement. The clock stood still.

Had it all been a dream?

Footsteps above. Grandpa Rabiul opened the door. “Zayed? I thought you were napping.”

Zayed stumbled upstairs, blinking at the sunlight. Everything looked the same—yet he felt different.
In his pocket, something moved.

He pulled out the tasbih.

One bead was glowing softly.

Ayah’s voice echoed in his head: “The Maze isn’t just a place. It’s a reminder. Never forget who you are, even when time tries to confuse you.”

And Zayed never did.