1. The Monkey and Snake Pact 2. Water, Wisdom, and Jungle Friends 3. When Monkey Met the Snake

The Monkey and the Snake

(Approx. 890 words)

In the heart of a dense jungle where the sun filtered through the canopy like shattered glass, there lived a clever monkey named Miko. Miko was known for his speed, agility, and unmatched curiosity. He swung from trees, plucked ripe fruits, and played tricks on the other animals, always laughing, always moving.

Not far from Miko’s favorite fig tree lived a snake named Sura. Sura was quiet, patient, and watchful. She spent her time coiled on warm rocks, soaking up the sun, or slithering through the underbrush with barely a sound. Most animals avoided her, not just because of her venom, but because of the mysterious air she carried. Sura didn’t speak much, but when she did, her words were sharp and thoughtful.

One hot afternoon, Miko was thirsty. He hadn’t found any coconuts and the small stream he usually drank from had dried up. As he scampered through the underbrush searching for water, he stumbled upon a large clay pot resting beneath an ancient banyan tree. The pot was half-buried in the earth, and inside it, glistening in the dim light, was water.

Miko reached in eagerly—but just then, a voice hissed from the shadows.

“Careful, monkey,” came the calm, cold voice of Sura.

Miko jumped back and stared into the leaves. From behind a rock, Sura emerged slowly, her eyes locked onto him.

“That’s my pot,” she said. “I use it to collect rainwater. It’s the only place left to drink around here.”

Miko narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even drink that much. Look at you! So still, so slow. I need the water more than you do. I’m always on the move.”

Sura blinked. “You assume that because I’m quiet, I have no needs. But water is as important to me as it is to you.”

Miko was impatient. “Then why don’t we share?”

“I do not share with those who do not ask,” Sura replied. “You came to take, not to ask.”

Miko huffed and sat on a branch. “Fine. May I please have some water?”

Sura studied him a moment longer, then nodded. “You may.”

Miko drank gratefully, and though he didn’t say it, he was surprised at her kindness. He had expected a fight. When he was done, he bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

From that day, Miko visited the pot every morning. He began to greet Sura politely. Sometimes, he brought her fruit. Sura, in return, told him stories—old jungle legends passed down from snake to snake. Miko listened, fascinated.

One day, as the dry season deepened, the water in the pot dwindled. Other animals had started sneaking drinks at night, desperate for moisture. Miko noticed the water dropping faster than usual and grew angry.

“These animals are stealing from you!” he cried. “You should guard your pot better.”

“I cannot be awake all night,” Sura said calmly. “But they are thirsty too. We all are.”

Miko paced. “We should scare them off. Make traps. You have venom—use it!”

Sura looked at him with ancient eyes. “If I poison others for drinking what little water we have, what kind of jungle will we live in? One of fear?”

Miko frowned. “But if we don’t act, we’ll run out.”

“We may still run out,” Sura said, “but it is better to run out with kindness than to live with cruelty.”

That night, Miko couldn’t sleep. He thought about what Sura had said. In the morning, he returned with large leaves and vines. Together, he and Sura built a small spout to guide rainwater from the banyan branches into the pot more efficiently. He dug a shallow trench to redirect water runoff during storms.

Slowly, their efforts paid off. The pot filled faster, and the water lasted longer. Miko started encouraging other animals to take only what they needed, and to bring fruits or help tend the area in return. A small community began to form—silent, respectful, cooperative.

Miko changed. He still swung from trees and played, but now he also listened. He learned patience from Sura, and she, in turn, found joy in his energy. The monkey and the snake—creatures so different—had built something together.

Then one day, heavy rain poured over the jungle. The drought ended. Streams returned, and the forest bloomed green again. The animals dispersed, going back to their routines. But Miko still visited Sura by the banyan tree.

As the sun dipped below the horizon one evening, Miko turned to Sura.

“You know,” he said, “I used to think being loud and fast made me strong. But now I see real strength is something quieter.”

Sura gave the faintest smile. “And I used to think the forest would never change. But you changed it.”

They sat there in silence—one hanging from a branch, the other curled in the grass—listening to the sounds of the jungle returning to life.