"But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." Dead poets society—
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A raging storm furiously hit the windows from that little orphanage. Caretakers did their best to soothe babies back to sleep when a specially loud thunder would echo from the distance of the night sky, alerting a few kids in the process.
The clock hit three in the morning with ease, by now all children peaceful in their cribs. The storm was slowly decreasing it's ferocity.
However, a little two year old remained awake, not because he was scared by the thunder but with the intention to help the caretakers with the other kids. He tugged on the sleeve of the girl humming a lullaby, doe eyes looking up, sleepy. He rubbed them with the back of his tiny hand before pulling at the fabric once again to call for the woman's attention.
"Noona, someone's crying." he whispered, careful not to disturb the peaceful environment finally present in the orphanage.
The woman stopped her humming and smiled at the little boy. "No one's crying, Minmin. Look, everyone's asleep, you should go to bed too, darling." she said, getting on one knee to level her height with the little boy.
With two fingers in his mouth, the kid shook his head. "Outside. Noona, someone's crying outside. Listen."
He used his free hand to grab the girl and pull her to the front door, the woman finally hearing some faint crying from outside the building. Puzzled, she carefully told the boy to stay put next to her while she opened the old wooden doors of that orphanage. The crying got louder, but no one was at the front when she looked.
The two years old ran out without the woman expecting him to do so. "Minho, stop! Come back here!" she shouted, but the boy made no sign of stopping as he slid his feet down the stairs.
"Noona, there's a baby!" he almost tripped twice, falling at the third slip of his foot, getting drenched in the process and forcing the lady to do so as well as she went after the kid. Every step she took towards the little boy, the crying got louder.
And then she saw it. Minho was holding a damp blue blanket and a little baby peeked his crying face, all wet and messy. "He's really cold, Noona." worriedly commented the two years old.
The woman gasped, getting the baby in her arms and sticking one hand out to grab the boy's little one. "Is anyone here?!" she shouted, in hopes the baby hadn't been abandoned, in hopes someone would come out of the dark to take the baby, claim it as theirs.
Sadly, no one answered. Not to the first call, nor the second one. The boy next to her squeezed his grip on her finger, eyebrows furrowed and hand on his mouth. They both flinched when a thunder raged through the furious sky, the baby crying harder.
