The skies over the jungle were unusually dark that afternoon. Thick clouds rolled in, casting heavy shadows over the forest floor. The birds went quiet. The air was still. Deep in the jungle clearing, two young monkeys named Bon and Moon sat playing with fallen leaves and nibbling on bits of sugarcane.
Bon was the brave one, always climbing higher, always exploring first. Moon, on the other hand, was cautious and gentle — never far from Bon’s side. The two were inseparable, sharing food, laughter, and even naps.
As they played, a deep rumble rolled across the sky. Bon stopped chewing. Moon froze, his eyes darting toward the heavens.
“Did you hear that?” Moon whispered, clutching Bon’s arm.
Bon tilted his head. “Just the wind,” he said, trying to sound confident. But inside, even he felt uneasy.
Then came the crack — a sudden, sharp BOOM of thunder that echoed through the jungle like a giant slamming a door. Leaves trembled. Birds shot out of trees. A baby monkey in the distance began to cry.
Bon and Moon jumped to their feet in panic.
“It’s thunder! Run!” Moon squealed.
But there was nowhere to run — only up. So they did what monkeys do best.
They climbed.
Up the trunk of the tallest tree they could find, Bon led the way with Moon close behind. Their little hands and feet moved quickly, gripping bark and branches, hearts pounding with each rumble from the sky.
Rain began to fall — first a few drops, then a soft shower. The wind picked up, swaying the tree back and forth as the thunder cracked again, this time closer.
Bon reached a sturdy branch and helped Moon settle next to him. The two clung to each other, tails wrapped tightly, eyes wide as they watched lightning split the sky in the distance. For a moment, the entire jungle lit up in white light before crashing back into grey.
Moon buried his face in Bon’s shoulder. “I don’t like thunder,” he whispered.
Bon, trying to stay brave, nodded. “Me neither. But we’re okay. We’re together.”
They sat quietly, shivering from the rain and the fear, waiting for the storm to pass. Every time the thunder rumbled, Moon flinched. Bon kept one arm around his friend, offering comfort even though he was just as scared.
Eventually, the rain softened. The thunder grew distant. A patch of blue appeared through the clouds. Birds returned, chirping as if nothing had happened.
Bon and Moon slowly climbed down, feet slippery from wet bark. When they reached the ground, they looked at each other — muddy, soaked, and still a little shaky — and burst into laughter.
They had faced the storm. And survived.
