It all started when I found the map in my grandfather’s attic.
The house had been locked up since he passed away a year ago. Nobody had dared to enter the attic — not because of ghosts or spiders, but because it was his sacred space. Grandfather was a cartographer, the kind who drew maps with ink, love, and secrets. He’d traveled the world, collecting stories and sketching places most people had never heard of.
So, when I opened the creaky attic door one rainy afternoon, it felt like trespassing.
Dust floated in the sunbeams slicing through the slatted windows. Rolled-up maps were stacked like logs, covering shelves, trunks, even the floor. There were globes — one of Mars, one of the Moon, and one I didn’t recognize. I wandered through the maze until my eye caught something odd: a black leather tube tucked behind a cracked telescope.
I opened it.
Inside was a rolled-up parchment — thick, yellowed, and brittle — with one phrase inked at the top in deep red:
“Map to the World That Forgot Itself.”
Goosebumps crawled up my arms.
Beneath the title was a map that didn't make sense. It had oceans shaped like eyes, floating islands, a sun that seemed to move backward, and a large symbol at the center — a compass, but instead of directions, it had emotions: Hope, Fear, Memory, Wonder.
At the bottom, in my grandfather’s handwriting, were four words:
“Find the door. Enter carefully.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The map sat rolled on my desk, humming softly, as if alive. At midnight, I gave in. I unrolled it again.
And that’s when it happened.
The compass on the map began to spin. The room darkened. The wind outside howled — and suddenly, right there on the attic wall, a shape appeared. An arched door, made of light and mist.
It slowly creaked open.
I should’ve screamed. Or run. But I didn’t.
Because something inside me whispered, This is what you were meant for.
So I stepped through.
I landed in a field of floating petals, under a sky that shimmered like a soap bubble. The air smelled like old books and rain. Trees whispered songs in forgotten languages, and rivers flowed uphill.
The map glowed in my pocket. I took it out — and saw that one island on it was now highlighted in golden ink: Aurellia.
Suddenly, I heard a voice.
“Traveler?”
A girl stood a few feet away. She looked about my age, with hair like fireflies and a cloak stitched with stars. She held a compass — identical to the one on my map.
“I’m Kael,” she said. “Guardian of the Remembering Gate.”
“The what?”
She studied me. “You’ve entered the Forgotten World. Few do. Fewer return.”
I stared around. “What is this place?”
“A place lost in time. A world built from pieces your world has forgotten — kindness, curiosity, wild magic.” She nodded at the map. “That brought you here. You must be a Seeker.”
“I’m just a kid from Earth,” I said.
“All Seekers say that.”
Kael led me to Aurellia — a city built on floating stones, where people wrote history by singing and buildings shifted according to emotion. But all was not well.
Something was vanishing — memories, names, entire cities.
“Someone is erasing us,” Kael whispered. “If the Heart of Wonder dies, so does our world.”
The map changed again. A red trail appeared, leading into the dark part of the map labeled only: The Hollow.
“The Hollow is where memories go to die,” she said. “No one’s returned from there.”
“I’ll go,” I said without thinking. “I want to help.”
“You’re braver than most.”
“Or dumber,” I muttered.
Entering the Hollow felt like walking into a forgotten dream. Everything was grey. Trees had no leaves. The sky didn’t move. I clutched the map — now dimming — and followed the trail into the ruins of a library.
And there, sitting on a throne of crumbling books, was the villain.
He looked human — except his eyes were mirrors.
“I am the Eraser,” he said. “This world survived too long. I am returning it to silence.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because your world stopped believing in wonder. And when wonder is forgotten, it dies.”
I held up the map. “Not yet.”
He laughed. “One child cannot stop forgetting.”
But I remembered something. My grandfather's voice. His stories. His warmth.
I closed my eyes and remembered.
The map in my hand burst into golden fire.
Light filled the room. The Eraser shrieked and vanished like smoke in wind.
And suddenly, the Hollow bloomed. Color returned. Songs rose. Forgotten creatures peered from nowhere.
Kael met me at the edge of Aurellia. She smiled.
“You remembered enough for all of us.”
“What happens now?”
She touched the map — now blank again.
“You go home. But the door remains open. For others.”
The light enveloped me again.
I woke up in the attic, lying on the floor, the map beside me.
It was blank.
But I could still hear birdsong from a world not far away.
Moral:
Adventure doesn’t always begin with dragons. Sometimes, it begins with curiosity — and a map that dares you to believe....
Because something inside me whispered, This is what you were meant for.
So I stepped into...
“You’re braver than most.”
“Or dumber,” I muttered
React
