In a small village surrounded by endless green fields and an old silent river, there lived a boy named Arif. The villagers often said the river had secrets. It flowed gently during the day, reflecting the golden sunlight like a sheet of melted glass. But at night, it turned dark and mysterious, whispering sounds that no one could explain.
Arif was different from the others. While most children feared the river after sunset, he was curious. He loved mysteries. Every evening, he would sit by his window and stare at the distant water, wondering what stories it was hiding.
One night, something unusual happened.
As Arif looked toward the river, he noticed a faint blue light flickering on the opposite bank. It wasn't a lantern. It wasn't a fisherman's torch. It moved slowly, almost like it was floating above the ground.
His heart pounded.
The next evening, the light appeared again — brighter this time.
Arif couldn't resist anymore. He grabbed his small flashlight and quietly stepped outside while the village slept. The night air was cold, and the only sounds were crickets and the soft flow of water.
When he reached the riverbank, the blue light was still there, dancing in the darkness.
Taking a deep breath, Arif stepped into his father's old wooden boat and pushed it into the water. The river felt colder than usual. Each splash of the oar echoed loudly in the silent night.
Halfway across, the light suddenly disappeared.
The darkness became heavier.
For a moment, fear wrapped around him like a shadow. But then — the light appeared again, this time right in front of him.
Arif froze.
On the other side of the river stood an old, abandoned house that everyone in the village avoided. The light seemed to be coming from inside.
With trembling hands, Arif tied the boat and slowly walked toward the house. The wooden door creaked as he pushed it open.
Inside, the air was dusty and cold.
In the middle of the room stood a small glass jar, glowing with the same blue light.
Arif stepped closer.
Inside the jar was a strange crystal, shining softly like a captured star. As he touched the jar, memories flooded his mind — images of the village long ago, people laughing, children playing, and the house filled with warmth.
He realized something.
The house wasn't haunted.
It was lonely.
The crystal held the memories of the past, waiting for someone brave enough to find it.
Suddenly, the crystal's light grew brighter and then gently faded. The room felt warmer. The darkness didn't feel heavy anymore.
Arif carried the jar back to the village.
The next morning, he told the elders about what he found. Instead of fear, the villagers felt hope. They cleaned the old house, repaired its broken walls, and turned it into a small school for children.
The river never showed the mysterious blue light again.
Because its secret had finally been discovered.
And sometimes, the scariest mysteries are not about ghosts —
They are about forgotten memories waiting to be remembered.