Snow poured thickly from above, blanketing the park in heavy white layers.
The trees stood quiet. The swings in the playground shifted slightly in the freezing wind, yet no children came to use them. The whole park seemed abandoned and lonely.
Through the swirling snow, a young boy appeared. He looked no older than seven years. His coat was thin and ripped. His shoes were soaked and worn through. Still, he did not fear the cold. In his arms, he carried three tiny infants wrapped tightly in tattered, faded blankets.
The boy’s cheeks were raw from the bitter wind. His arms throbbed from carrying the infants so long. His steps dragged and faltered, but he pressed on. He pressed the babies against his chest, trying to keep them warm with the little heat still left in his frail body.
The newborns were so small.
Their faces were pale, their lips turning blue. One of them whimpered with a fragile, weak cry. The boy lowered his head and murmured, “It’s alright. I’m here. I won’t abandon you.” The world outside kept rushing past.
Cars raced by. People hurried home. Yet none of them saw him. None noticed the boy or the three lives he was struggling to keep alive. The snow thickened.
Even if no one else would care, he would shield them. Yet his fragile body weakened. His knees collapsed. And slowly, the boy sank into the snow, the babies still clutched tight in his embrace. He shut his eyes. The world dissolved into silent whiteness.
And there in the frozen park, beneath the falling snow, four tiny souls waited.
Waited for someone to find them. The boy forced his eyes open. The cold gnawed at his skin. Snowflakes gathered on his lashes, yet he left them. His thoughts stayed fixed only on the three little children in his arms.
He shifted slightly and tried rising again. His legs shook violently. His arms, weak and frozen, struggled to hold the triplets firm. But he would not release them. He rose with every ounce of strength he had left. One step, then another.
He felt his legs might shatter beneath him, but he trudged forward. The ground was hard and icy. If he fell, the babies could be harmed. He would never allow that. He would never let their fragile bodies touch the frozen earth. The cruel wind ripped at his ragged clothes.
Each step seemed heavier than the last. His feet were drenched. His hands shook. His chest thudded with painful beats. He bowed his head and whispered softly to the children, “Please hold on, don’t give up.” The babies made faint, tiny sounds, but they were still breathing.
