In a quiet town nestled between rolling hills and a sparkling river, there was a small house that had stood for generations. Its red brick walls had weathered the elements for more than a century, and its wooden door creaked in a way that felt comforting, as if welcoming you with every slow swing. This house was not grand or luxurious, but it was beloved by everyone who had ever called it home.The house was first built by a man named Elias, a carpenter who had moved to the town with nothing but a set of tools, a few coins,