The morning sun rose over the peaceful countryside where Farmer Cutis and his beloved baby monkey, Lu, lived in harmony. Their days were filled with laughter, warm meals, and playful games around the farm. Lu followed Cutis everywhere — from the chicken coop to the garden — always curious, always cheerful.
But today, that peace was shattered.
It started like any other day. Cutis, wearing his wide straw hat, was feeding the chickens while Lu jumped from fence post to fence post, squeaking happily. The sky was blue, and the breeze was gentle — no one could have predicted what was about to happen.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the barn.
Cutis dropped the feed bucket, heart racing. Lu froze, tiny hands clutching the fence, eyes wide. Smoke began to rise from the old wooden barn — the storage shed where Cutis kept old tools, hay, and the special tree swing he had made for Lu.
“Lu, stay here!” Cutis shouted as he ran toward the barn.
But Lu couldn’t just stand by. He jumped down and followed, tiny feet pattering against the ground.
Inside the barn, something had caught fire — a faulty wire, maybe, or a reflection from a glass bottle. Flames were licking the walls, and thick smoke filled the air. Cutis grabbed a nearby hose and fought the fire with all his strength.“Stay back, Lu!” he coughed. “It’s too dangerous!”
But in the chaos, a beam above them cracked loudly. Cutis turned just in time to see it fall. He pushed Lu out of the way — and then everything went black.
When Lu woke up, everything was quiet. Too quiet.
The fire was out. Neighbors had come running when they saw the smoke, and someone had called an ambulance. Cutis lay on the ground, barely conscious, covered in soot and ash. His arms were bruised, and he wasn’t moving much. But he had saved Lu.
“CUTIS!!!” Lu squealed, grabbing his hand, tears pouring from his big brown eyes.
Paramedics arrived quickly. They carefully lifted Cutis onto a stretcher, oxygen mask over his face. Lu tried to follow, clinging to his shirt, refusing to let go.
“Sorry, little one,” one of the paramedics said gently, trying to separate them. “He needs medical help now.”
Lu shrieked in protest, grabbing tighter, until an elderly neighbor, Grandma Lin, scooped him up in a warm blanket.
“It’s okay, Lu,” she whispered. “Cutis is strong. He’ll be okay.”
But Lu didn’t understand. All he knew was that the person he loved most in the world was hurt — because of him.
The days that followed were long and lonely.
Lu sat by the window of Grandma Lin’s house, staring at the road, waiting for any sign of the old tractor that would mean Cutis was coming home. He refused bananas. He wouldn’t play. He curled up on Cutis’s flannel shirt and whimpered quietly every night.
The farm felt cold without Cutis.
Grandma Lin did her best. She tried to cheer Lu up with sweet treats, lullabies, and cuddles. But nothing could fill the hole in his heart.
One evening, Lu wandered into the burnt remains of the barn. The air still smelled faintly of smoke. He found the swing — blackened but still hanging — and sat on it, swaying gently. He closed his eyes, imagining Cutis pushing him like before, laughing, calling him his “little mischief monkey.”
A single tear rolled down Lu’s cheek. “Cutis… please be strong.”
Then, a miracle.
Ten days after the accident, a car pulled up the long dusty road to the farm. Grandma Lin came running from the house. Lu was still curled up under the porch when he heard her shout.
“It’s him! Cutis is back!”
Lu’s head shot up. He ran faster than he’d ever run before, his heart pounding with hope.
There he was — thinner, pale, walking slowly with the help of a cane, but smiling.
“Lu…” Cutis said, his voice hoarse but full of love.
Lu leaped into his arms, chattering, crying, hugging him tightly. Cutis winced but laughed. “Careful now, buddy. Still a bit sore.”
Lu sniffled and looked up at him with watery eyes, then gently placed his tiny hands on Cutis’s cheeks, as if checking to make sure he was real.
“I missed you too,” Cutis said softly.
Over the next few weeks, the bond between the two grew even deeper.
Cutis was weak, but determined. Lu never left his side. When Cutis napped, Lu curled up on his chest. When Cutis tried to walk, Lu helped carry small things — a glove, a cup of tea, even his cane once, though it was too heavy.
One afternoon, as Cutis rested under the tree near the half-burned barn, he looked at Lu and smiled.
“You saved me too, you know,” he said.
Lu tilted his head.
“You reminded me what matters most,” Cutis explained. “This farm, the work — it’s nothing without family. You’re my family, Lu.”
Lu squeaked in agreement and hugged him tightly.
Later that month, the neighbors gathered to help rebuild the barn. People brought wood, tools, food, and stories. Everyone had heard about the fire, and how Cutis had risked everything to save the baby monkey who meant the world to him.
With teamwork and kindness, the barn was restored — even better than before. Lu’s new swing was stronger, painted bright blue. And at the entrance of the barn, someone hung a small wooden sign that read:
“CUTIS & LU’S HOME — Built with Love”
Life slowly returned to normal.
Cutis got stronger every day, and Lu became more playful again. The two of them went back to tending the animals, planting vegetables, and taking long walks in the fields.
But something had changed. Their bond had grown deeper, stronger — forged in fire and tested by pain.
They had survived.
And now, every time the sun set over their little farm, Lu would rest in Cutis’s arms, both of them looking up at the sky — grateful, hopeful, and forever side by side.
