The jungle morning was bright, the air heavy with warmth and the soft hum of insects rising from the thick grass. Near the old stone pool — a place where many monkeys often came to drink and play — a small newborn monkey, only a few days old, lay weakly on the edge. Its fur was still thin, its eyes half-open, blinking slowly as if it still didn’t understand the world it was born into. The poor little one had just begun to move its trembling fingers, clutching at the rough stone as its mother sat a few feet away, watching over it.
Around them, a few older baby monkeys were jumping and playing. Their laughter and quick movements filled the area with life. But among them was one slightly older baby monkey, known to be mischievous and sometimes cruel. It liked teasing the smaller ones, grabbing their tails, or snatching their food. When it noticed the helpless newborn lying near the pool, something dark sparked inside its little mind — a mix of jealousy and curiosity.
The mother of the newborn was distracted, searching nearby bushes for fruits. The newborn monkey, meanwhile, tried to lift its head but was too weak. Its small cry, soft and faint, blended into the sounds of the forest. That’s when the older baby crept closer, its eyes fixed on the tiny creature. Step by step, it approached the pool edge, its shadow falling over the newborn.
The newborn monkey sensed something and whimpered. It tried to curl its body, its tail twitching helplessly. The mischievous baby stared for a moment, then gave a sudden push with its small hands. The newborn lost balance instantly.
Plop!
A small splash broke the quiet air as the newborn fell into the cold pool below. Its body sank for a second, then floated back up, tiny arms waving weakly in the water. Its soft cries turned into choking sounds, tiny bubbles rising from its mouth. The water was too deep, too cold, and the newborn didn’t know how to swim.
The older baby stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide, realizing what it had done. But instead of helping, it backed away in fear, watching as the newborn struggled in the pool.
The mother turned around at the sound of splashing. Her heart leaped with terror. She rushed toward the edge, screaming loudly, her cries echoing through the trees. She could see her baby flailing in the water, its small body bobbing helplessly. Without hesitation, she jumped into the pool, her hands desperately reaching for her drowning child.
The other monkeys nearby began to panic. Some climbed higher into the trees; others ran closer to the edge, watching the chaos unfold. The mother grabbed her newborn, pulling it to her chest. She climbed out of the pool, dripping wet, her arms trembling as she laid her baby down on the warm rock.
But the newborn wasn’t moving. Its eyes were closed. Its chest was still. The mother started pressing and licking its tiny body, trying to warm it, trying to make it breathe again. She cried louder, rocking her baby, pushing her face against its wet fur. Each cry sounded like pure heartbreak — a sound that made even the forest birds fall silent.
Minutes passed. The newborn’s body remained still, its small hands limp. The mother refused to believe it. She continued licking, shaking gently, as if her love alone could bring it back. The other monkeys gathered slowly around, their earlier play replaced by a heavy silence.
The mischievous baby, the one who pushed, hid behind a tree. It peeked out, watching what it had caused. It didn’t understand death, but it could feel fear — a deep, trembling guilt. Its eyes darted from the mother’s grief to the lifeless little form on the rock.
The mother’s cries grew weaker. She held her baby close, wrapping her arms tightly around it, refusing to let go. She sat beside the pool for a long time, rocking back and forth, whispering soft, broken sounds. Her fur was still wet, her eyes red from tears.
As the sun lowered in the sky, the forest began to quiet again. The mother still sat there, her baby pressed against her chest, as if hoping that warmth would return. But it didn’t. The water had taken the newborn away too soon.
In the trees, the other monkeys watched silently. No one dared to play anymore. Even the mischievous baby stayed hidden, its small body trembling as evening shadows grew long.
The pool that once echoed with laughter now stood still — reflecting the image of a grieving mother holding her lost child, the ripples slowly fading under the dying light of the sun.
It was a scene the forest would remember — a tragedy born not from hunger or predators, but from a single careless push, a moment of cruelty that cost a tiny, innocent life.
The night fell quietly over the jungle. The stars appeared above, shining faintly through the trees, as the mother monkey clung to her newborn — refusing to leave, refusing to forget — whispering the last lullaby that no baby would ever hear again.
