The tiny baby monkey lay quietly in the corner, his little body weak and wounded. His injury was deep, and every movement brought visible pain. Once full of energy, he now struggled just to lift his head. His eyes were soft but full of sorrow, silently asking for comfort and care.
No one knew how he got hurt—some said he fell, others believed he was attacked. What mattered now was how much he suffered. He couldn’t climb, he couldn’t run. All he could do was lie still and cry softly when the pain became too much.
His caregiver gently approached, holding warm cloths and medicine. The baby winced as the wound was cleaned, but he didn’t resist. It was like he knew they were trying to help. His tiny fingers held onto the caregiver’s hand tightly, not wanting to let go, finding comfort in that small connection.
The other baby monkeys nearby played, unaware of the pain their little friend was going through. Occasionally, one would come close, sniff him, then scamper away. He watched them with longing in his eyes—wishing he could join, wishing life hadn’t turned so hard so quickly.
He didn’t deserve this pain. He was just a baby, innocent and new to the world, now learning sorrow far too early.
Each day brought tiny bits of healing, and each touch from his caregiver brought comfort. Though his life was filled with pain right now, he was not forgotten. He had love around him, and hope—small but present.
He may be broken now, but deep inside, the spark of survival still burned.
And those who saw his struggle couldn’t help but feel emotional sorrow, praying for this little soul to one day smile again.
