The forest was silent except for the soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. Among the tall trees, a small baby monkey sat trembling, its fragile body pressed against the rough bark of an old branch. The little one had been through more pain than any newborn should ever know. Its eyes, wide and innocent, carried a heavy sadness, as though silently asking the world, Why? Please God, help me.
The baby’s mother was nowhere in sight. She had left the group earlier in the day, frustrated and impatient, unable to handle the cries of her newborn who was begging for milk. Now, alone and helpless, the baby monkey clung to life with all the strength it could muster. Every movement was slow, every breath seemed like a battle. Hunger gnawed at its tiny body, and loneliness made the forest feel even colder.
Other monkeys in the troop moved about with their young ones, carrying them close, grooming them with love, and feeding them with care. But this poor baby was ignored, pushed aside, and treated as if it did not belong. Occasionally, a curious older monkey would come close, sniff the baby, and then walk away, leaving it even more abandoned. The little one’s soft whimpers echoed in the air, a heartbreaking sound that would move any soul.
As the day grew darker, the baby attempted to climb down from the tree in search of its mother. Its tiny hands slipped, and for a terrifying moment, it almost fell. Catching itself just in time, it clung desperately, shivering in fear. The sky turned red with the setting sun, and the forest shadows grew long, adding to the sense of danger and despair. Predators lurked at night, and without a mother’s protection, the chances of survival were slim.
It was in this moment that the baby lifted its tiny face upward, its eyes reflecting the fading sunlight, almost as if pleading with the heavens above. Why? Why must I suffer like this? Please God, help me. Though no words came, the expression was enough to break the heart of anyone who witnessed it.
The truth of nature is often cruel. Some survive, some do not. But in the deepest cries of the weakest creature lies a powerful reminder—that compassion matters, and that even the smallest life deserves love and protection. The baby monkey’s struggle is not just a story of survival, but a plea for kindness in a world that too often forgets the most vulnerable.
And as the night settled in, one could only whisper a prayer, hoping that somehow, somewhere, mercy would come for the little one: Please God, help the monkey.
