The midday sun burned hot over the scattered rooftops of a small village where electricity cables tangled above like black snakes crisscrossing the sky. High above the noise of the market and the chatter of children playing, a young monkey wandered along the lines of wires stretched from one house to another. The monkey was small, still learning the boundaries of his fragile life, and he moved with playful curiosity, unaware of the danger humming invisibly through the cords beneath his feet.
For the villagers, such a sight was not unusual. Troops of monkeys often came down from the nearby forest in search of food. They climbed roofs, slipped through open windows, and sometimes balanced fearlessly on the very wires that powered the village. Yet, the hum of electricity was something no monkey could ever see or understand. To them, the lines looked no different from tree branches or lianas stretching through the canopy. The young monkey, with his bright eyes and restless energy, trusted them as if they were part of his natural jungle.
He scampered across, tail swinging behind him for balance, his tiny fingers curling around the insulated surface. At first, everything seemed harmless. The villagers glanced up occasionally but quickly returned to their business. The monkey’s mother, perched on a nearby roof, watched with concern but made no sound. She had lived long enough to sense dangers her child could not yet imagine.
The fateful moment came when the little one, distracted by a fluttering piece of cloth drying on a balcony, reached out with one hand toward another cable that crossed slightly above the one he stood on. For a brief instant, his body created a bridge between two live wires. In that fraction of a second, the hidden power within the black cords surged into his small body.
A blinding flash and a sharp crack split the air. The monkey stiffened, every muscle locking at once. His tiny scream was cut off, replaced by the sickening hiss of electricity. His fur bristled as if set aflame, and his fragile limbs jerked uncontrollably. The villagers gasped. A child cried out, covering her eyes. Even the mother monkey shrieked, a heart-piercing cry that echoed against the concrete walls.
The young monkey’s body convulsed violently. His grip, tightened by the shock, seemed impossible to release. He hung suspended between the wires, twitching helplessly, his tail swinging in spasms. Sparks flickered around his hands and feet. The acrid smell of burning fur drifted downward, mingling with the dust and heat of the street.
Time felt frozen for those watching. For the little monkey, every heartbeat was an eternity of unbearable pain. His chest heaved but could not draw enough air. His tiny heart pounded erratically, fighting the invisible current that surged through him. The force that once lit lamps and powered fans was now mercilessly tearing at the very life within him.
Finally, with a final violent jolt, his body slipped free. He fell, tumbling through the hot air, landing hard on the cement street below. A cloud of dust rose where he struck. The crowd rushed forward, forming a hesitant circle around the motionless form. Some covered their mouths in horror; others whispered prayers under their breath.
The little monkey lay still, his chest faintly rising and falling, a weak tremor running through his limbs. His eyes were half-open, glazed with shock, and his small mouth quivered as if gasping for comfort he could not find. His once lively fur was singed in patches, darkened where the current had burned through. His tiny hands bore the marks of the contact, raw and blistered.
From the rooftop, his mother leapt down. She landed beside him with desperate urgency, pushing through the circle of humans without hesitation. She crouched low, her trembling hands reaching to touch her baby’s limp body. She pulled him close, pressing him against her chest as though her warmth could drive away the pain. Her cries were deep and guttural, a sound of grief and fear that every listener understood without translation.
The villagers stood in silence. Some wished to help, yet they knew the mother would not allow them near. She licked his burned fur, nuzzling his tiny face, rocking him gently in her arms. Every movement was filled with desperation, as if she believed sheer love could draw him back from the edge of death. Her baby whimpered softly, a fragile sound that tore at the hearts of those who heard it.
Minutes passed. The sun beat down, the street baked in heat, and still the mother clung to her child. At times, the baby stirred faintly, but his strength was fading quickly. The current had stolen too much from him—his breath, his heartbeat, his spark of life. His mother refused to accept it. She carried him a few steps, sat, then carried him again, seeking a safe place away from the staring humans. At last, she climbed to the shade of a low wall, cradling him in her lap, her own body rocking in grief.
The villagers murmured about how often such accidents happened. The tangled wires were a danger not just to monkeys but sometimes even to people. Yet their words felt empty against the raw scene before them: a mother clutching her dying child, powerless against forces too great for her world to understand.
The little one’s breaths grew slower, his chest barely lifting. His eyes fluttered, then fixed softly on nothing at all. His body, once so full of restless energy, lay limp and heavy in his mother’s arms. She cried again, louder this time, a cry that rose into the hot sky and seemed to shake the air itself. She rocked him back and forth, as though refusing to believe that his suffering had ended in silence.
For a long time, she sat there, cradling her lifeless baby while the world continued around her. The villagers eventually drifted away, unable to watch, yet her grief lingered long after. When she finally carried him away toward the trees, her silhouette against the burning sun became a haunting memory—of innocence destroyed in an instant, of the fragile line between life and death, of the merciless danger that lurks unseen in a world reshaped by human wires.
