Set in the sacred, timeless forest near Angkor Wat…
The midday sun glistened on the still water of an ancient jungle pool—remnants of an old temple moat now sunken into the embrace of the forest. It was there, in that quiet, leafy basin, that a small, soaked baby monkey struggled alone.
We first heard her cries—sharp, high-pitched squeals that echoed off the thick roots and mossy stones. At first, we thought it was just normal monkey chatter. But then… silence. Then another cry, more desperate this time.
Looking down from a shaded ledge, we saw her: a tiny brown monkey, no bigger than a coconut, pawing at the moss-covered stones, slipping over and over again. Her eyes were wide with confusion. Her fur was soaked and clung tightly to her frail little frame.
She had somehow fallen in, perhaps while playing along the edge, or chasing a butterfly that fluttered too close to the water.
But now she couldn’t climb out.
There were no vines to hold on to. No gentle slope. Just slick stone, a steep ledge, and water that was slowly creeping up as the rains from last night filtered down from the forest.
We looked around—no adult monkey in sight. Her troop had likely moved on. Maybe they hadn’t even realized she was missing. Or maybe… they thought she wouldn’t make it.
The heartbreak hit like thunder.
This was no longer just a baby monkey struggling in a pool. This was a baby—forgotten, alone, and fighting for her life.
Every time she tried to climb the slippery edge, she slid back in. Her tiny hands kept reaching for something—anything—to grab. She didn’t give up, not once. Even when she trembled. Even when her little body floated for a moment, limp with exhaustion. That resilience shattered us.
I whispered to my friend, “We have to do something.”
We found a branch, long and sturdy, and slowly lowered it in. Her eyes locked on it. Cautiously, she floated closer, testing it. At first, she didn’t seem to understand. But then instinct kicked in—she latched on.
The moment she held that branch, the moment her little fingers curled around it and her head rose just above water—was like watching a miracle unfold.
We gently lifted the branch toward the slope nearby. She clambered up slowly, her legs shaking, barely able to stand. But she made it.
The moment she reached land, she didn’t run. She turned around, looked at us—just for a second—as if she knew.
Then she scampered off into the green, her cries quieting as the jungle wrapped around her once more.
We never saw her again. But we’ll never forget her.
This is her story.
