THE BOY WHO BORROWED TIME

Muna had always felt like time moved differently around him. Not in a dramatic, movie-like way—no glowing lights or slow-motion moments. It was quieter than that. Subtle. Like when the school bell rang and everyone rushed out, but to him, the sound lingered just a second too long. Or when he blinked and felt like something important had just slipped past him… something he couldn’t quite remember. He used to think everyone felt that way. Until the day everything changed. It started on a Thursday. The kind of Thursday that felt like every other—hot, slow, and slightly annoying. The Lagos sun was unforgiving, pressing down on the school compound like it had something to prove. Muna sat at the back of his class, pretending to listen to the biology teacher explain cell division. His notebook was open, but instead of notes, it was filled with random sketches—clocks, spirals, and numbers that didn’t make sense. Tick. Tick. Tick. He paused. His pen stopped moving. “Did you hear that?” he whispered to the girl sitting beside him. “Hear what?” she replied, not even looking up. Tick. There it was again. Louder this time. But no one else reacted. Muna slowly lifted his head, scanning the room. Everything looked normal—the teacher was still talking, students were still writing—but something felt… off. Like the world had shifted slightly out of place. Tick. This time, it didn’t sound like it was coming from outside. It was coming from him. “Sir, please may I go outside?” Muna asked, raising his hand. The teacher sighed. “Make it fast.” Muna didn’t wait for permission twice. He grabbed his bag and stepped out into the hallway, the heat hitting him immediately. Tick. Tick. The sound grew louder. His chest tightened. “What is this?” he muttered, pressing his hand against his ear. Then he saw it. At the end of the corridor, where there had always been a blank wall… there was now a door. An old one. Wooden. Cracked. Covered in faint carvings that looked like symbols or numbers. Muna froze. “That wasn’t there before.” He was sure of it. He had walked past that exact spot every day for months. There had never been a door. But now… Tick. It was coming from behind it. He should have walked away. Any normal person would. But something pulled him forward. Step by step, he approached the door. The air around it felt colder, like stepping into shade even though the sun still shone. He reached out his hand. Hesitated. “Don’t do it,” a voice in his head whispered. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. He turned the handle. The moment the door opened, the world disappeared. No hallway. No school. No sound. Just darkness. Endless, silent darkness. Muna stumbled forward, his heart racing. “Hello?” he called out. No answer. Then— Tick. A faint glow appeared in the distance. And slowly… it grew brighter. What stood before him made no sense. It was a room. A massive room. Filled with clocks. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Clocks on the walls. Clocks on the floor. Clocks hanging from the ceiling. Some were ancient, with swinging pendulums. Others were modern, digital, blinking strange numbers. All ticking. All at different speeds. Some fast. Some slow. Some… barely moving at all. Muna’s breath caught in his throat. “What is this place…?” “You’re not supposed to be here.” The voice came from behind him. Deep. Calm. But not friendly. Muna spun around. Standing a few steps away was a man. Tall. Dressed in black. His face was sharp, his eyes darker than anything Muna had ever seen. “Who are you?” Muna asked, his voice shaking. The man tilted his head slightly, studying him. “That’s the wrong question,” he said. “The real question is… how did you find this place?” “I—I don’t know,” Muna stammered. “There was a door—” “There is no door,” the man interrupted. Muna blinked. “But I just came through—” “There is no door,” the man repeated, more firmly this time. The ticking grew louder. Muna felt a chill run down his spine. “Then… where am I?” The man took a step closer. “You’re standing,” he said slowly, “in the space between moments.” Muna frowned. “I don’t understand.” “Of course you don’t,” the man said. “You’re not meant to.” He walked past Muna, his eyes scanning the clocks around the room. “Each of these,” he continued, gesturing, “represents a life. A timeline. A flow of existence.” Muna looked closer. Some clocks were bright and steady. Others flickered weakly. One… stopped completely. The moment it did, a faint cracking sound echoed through the room. Muna jumped. “What was that?” The man didn’t look surprised. “Someone just ran out of time.” Silence fell. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Muna swallowed. “You mean… they died?” The man finally turned to face him. “Yes.” Muna’s heart pounded. “This isn’t real,” he said quickly. “I’m dreaming.” The man smirked slightly. “If that helps you cope, then believe it.” Muna looked around again, panic creeping in. “I want to go back.” The man’s expression hardened. “That might not be possible.” “What do you mean ‘might not’?” Muna snapped. “I didn’t ask to come here!” “No,” the man agreed. “But you came anyway.” Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound was louder now. Almost overwhelming. Muna pressed his hands against his ears. “Why is it so loud?” The man stared at him. Carefully. Like he was realizing something. “That’s… interesting.” “What?” Muna demanded. “You can hear them,” the man said. “Hear what?” “The clocks.” Muna’s stomach dropped. “Everyone can hear them, right?” The man didn’t answer immediately. Then he said quietly: “No.” A cold realization settled in. “What does that mean?” The man walked closer. Very close. Close enough that Muna could feel the weight of his presence. “It means,” he said softly, “you are not like the others.” Muna took a step back. “I don’t want to be ‘not like others.’ I just want to go home.” The man studied him for a long moment. Then sighed. “Too late.” Before Muna could react— The clocks went silent. Every single one. Stopped. At the exact same moment. And in that silence… Something moved. Not a person. Not a shadow. Something worse. Something that didn’t belong. The man’s expression changed instantly. For the first time— He looked afraid. “We have a problem,” he said. “WHAT problem?” Muna asked, his voice rising. The man didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Muna’s wrist. “Listen carefully,” he said quickly. “If you want to survive, you do exactly as I say.” “Survive?” Muna repeated. “From what—” A c***k split the air. Loud. Violent. One of the clocks shattered. Then another. And another. Something was coming. The man’s grip tightened. “They’ve found you.” “Who?!” He looked Muna straight in the eyes. “The ones who feed on stolen time.” Muna’s breath stopped. “Stolen… time?” The man nodded. to b continued......