In the quiet corner of the forest, a poor little baby monkey lay curled against his mother’s side. His tiny body shook as he cried loudly, calling out again and again for comfort. The sound echoed through the branches, pitiful and sharp, tugging at the hearts of anyone who heard. But Mama, weary and restless, turned away. She ignored his cries, her eyes half-closed as she chose to rest instead of giving him milk.
The baby monkey didn’t understand. Hunger gnawed at his belly, and his soft face pressed against her fur, searching desperately for the warmth and nourishment he needed. Each time he reached out, Mama pushed him aside or shifted her body, refusing him the comfort he longed for. His cries grew louder, almost like a plea to the whole forest, asking why his mama had turned cold.
Other monkeys nearby glanced over, some curious, some indifferent. A few mothers clutched their own babies tighter, offering milk and gentle grooming, while the poor little one continued to suffer alone. The contrast was heartbreaking. The small monkey’s wide eyes were filled with confusion and sadness, as though begging his mother to remember her role, her duty to protect and feed him.
As the night grew darker, the baby’s cries softened, his energy fading. His tiny arms trembled as he tried once more to reach for her chest, but still, she turned her face away, stubbornly closing her eyes to sleep. The little monkey’s sobs became weaker, and he curled into a ball, trying to soothe himself with warmth from the leaves around him. But the hunger inside refused to let him rest.
It was a tragic scene of innocence and neglect. Every cry from the baby carried a story of longing, of love denied, of a simple need that remained unanswered. He did not ask for much—only the milk and care that any newborn deserves. Yet his mother’s coldness left him lonely, abandoned in spirit, even though she was so close by.
The forest remained silent except for his fading whimpers. Though his little heart was broken by rejection, the baby monkey still clung to hope. Perhaps tomorrow his mama would wake with a softer heart, remember his tiny voice, and finally give him the milk and comfort he had been crying for all along.
