The story revolves around a mysterious new student named Astha who joins a school in the middle of the term. Quiet and distant , she chooses to sit at the last bench. soon after her arrival, strange incidents begin to occur in the classroom-lights flicker, the clock stops exactly at 12 : noon, and objects move without anyone touching them. 

The narrator becomes curious and starts observing Astha closely . one evening, the narrator accidentally witnesses Asthaa standing alone in the classroom while papers swirl around her and an invisible force seems to surround him. When Astha notices that she has been seen, she calmly warns the narrator.

The next day, everything changes. Aryan disappears, and no one in the school remembers him. Even the teachers claim that no such student ever existed. The only proof left behind is a mysterious message carved into the last bench:"you remember".

As the classroom clock once again stops at 12: noon and the lights flicker, the story ends on a suspenseful note, leaving readers wondering whether Astha was real or something supernatural.

Astha was near the classroom door, her figure half - lit by the bright afternoon sun from the corridor. For a moment , neither of them spoke.


Astha tilted her Head slightly."Not everyone".


The air felt strange again- thick , like before a storm . Astha glanced at the storm.


But this time ... No wind . No flickering lights.


"Why does this keep happening?"I asked , my voice shaking slightly. The clock.... The wind...the words on the desk..."


Astha stepped forward slowly. Her footsteps made no sound.


"Some places remember things," she said softly. " Some objects do too."


Instead , she walked toward the last bench and ran her fingers lightly over the carved words - It begins again.


Suddenly, the classroom door slammed shut behind them .


The windows darkened as if a cloud had covered the sun, thought it was still bright outside moments ago.


The second hand had started moving - but backward.


Each backward movement made the classroom feel colder.


"You shouldn't have stayed today," she said.


The lights flickered violently. The desks trembled. The carved words on the bench began to deepen , as if an invisible hand was pressing harder into the wood.


The clock hands snapped back to 12:00 noon.


The classroom door had slowly opened on its own.


Heart pounding, I rushed into the corridor.


But as I walked into the classroom, something made my stomach drop.


On the blackboard, written in neat chalk letters that weren't there before, were four chilling words:


Chapter 2 - The Clock That Shouldn't Work