A baby is found and taken to an orphanage when they discover something terrible about him. When they take off his clothes to give him a bath, the staff look at the little one. Everyone is terrified.
Night was falling over the city with the shadows stretching like claws through the narrow, poorly lit alleyways. A woman, looking exhausted but determined, was running through the shadows with the muffled cries of a newborn baby wrapped in her arms. Her heart beat frantically, echoing the desperation and fear she felt with every step.
“I need help, please,” she begged indifferent passersby who turned away at her frightened look. No one seemed willing to interrupt their evening to help a stranger, let alone one who was clearly on the run. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her pursuers, men with stern expressions dressed in impeccable suits. Their presence contrasting violently with the decadent surroundings.
“Oh no, they’re getting closer,” she whispered to herself with a mixture of fear and determination in her eyes. Finding a momentary hiding place behind garbage containers, the young woman tried to calm down her baby, her urgent whisper piercing the oppressive stillness. “Shh, shh, please love, be quiet.” The child’s cries were reduced to sobs as if he could understand the gravity of their situation.
But safety was short-lived. The men found her, their faces as cold as the night. “Give us the baby,” one of them ordered, his voice devoid of any compassion. That mother’s determination flared up like a fierce fire in the face of adversity. “Over my dead body,” she retorted firmly, clutching her son to her like a shield of flesh and love against the imminent threat. “I will protect my son with my life.”
One of the men, impatient with her resistance, stepped forward and hit her hard in the face. As darkness enveloped her, the woman’s last thought was a silent prayer that her son would find safety in a world that only showed them cruelty. Everything went dark.
After this tragic event, an elderly woman with slow steps and a generous heart was returning home from church. Mrs. Edith was known in the neighborhood for her kindness and community spirit. It was then that a baby’s cry, small and desperate, cut through the silence of the night, attracting the old lady’s attention.
Following the sound into a dimly lit alleyway, she found a horrible scene. A young woman, motionless with the serene face of someone who had found peace in eternal rest and with her, a little baby. It was the poor mother who was running away from the men in suits. With the delicacy and care of someone who understands the fragility of life, Mrs. Edith took the child into her arms.
Whispering words of comfort, “Calm down, calm down, sweetie, you’re safe now.” After notifying the police who came to collect the young mother’s body and investigate the circumstances of her death, the old lady knew what she needed to do. She didn’t mention that she had found a baby with the girl as she imagined that the police would take him to any orphanage in the city and not a good one. So she decided to take him home with her.
At home, the old lady took care of the baby with the tenderness of a grandmother, feeding and covering him, allowing the poor baby to sleep peacefully. The next morning, with a heart heavy with unexpected responsibility, she took the baby to a decent orphanage, a place she knew was good because she had grown up there herself. And she hoped that there he would find the care and protection he deserved.
Arriving at the orphanage, the staff welcomed Mrs. Edith and the baby with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Well, he’ll need a name,” they said, and Mrs. Edith named him Matthew. Observing the registration procedures, a feeling of joy filled her heart, relieved to know that Matthew would be safe, although she was very sad to have to leave him. The staff, seeing that the old lady was a bit upset, asked her if she wanted to stay for a while and help give him his first bath.
Her happiness overflowed, as she never had children of her own. Those brief moments of maternal intimacy filled a void she didn’t even know existed. With trembling hands full of love, she helped undress the child, imagining what it would be like to hold her own baby. But what nobody could have imagined was what would happen next. It was then when she removed Matthew’s clothes that everyone in the room froze with disbelief on their faces.
“Oh my God, what is this?” The words could barely escape, while those present, including Mrs. Edith, recoiled in shock. It turned out that on the little one’s body, there were strange symbols drawn with black paint and a precision that defied logic. The staff and Mrs. Edith could never have anticipated the mystery that Matthew carried in his skin.
At the orphanage, the baby’s first bath became an event that none of those present would ever forget. “Good Lord, who did that to such a small child?” They asked incredulously and a little curiously. They weren’t just any markings, they seemed to have an ancient meaning, designed as if they had a purpose. Even so, it was frightening to see them on the soft skin of a newborn. They were an enigma, a mystery engraved on the skin of an innocent. The old lady, now pale, couldn’t look away.
“How did I miss this?” She muttered more to herself than to the others. “Last night, I just put him to sleep. I didn’t think to give him a bath or take off his clothes. Oh my Lord.” Speculation began to circulate around the room, everyone trying to make sense of the inexplicable. “Could it be that the mother was, you know, involved with something that she shouldn’t?” Someone asked, looking at the others for answers. But the old lady defended her.
“That poor young woman didn’t seem to be involved with something like this,” she said, remembering the sight of her dead mother still holding her son with a last gesture of protection. “There was something else. There’s something here that’s beyond our comprehension.” The mystery of the symbols spread like wildfire through the orphanage, attracting the curiosity of everyone who worked there. They came one by one to spy on the baby with the marks drawn on his skin, each one trying to decipher the indescribable.
At that moment, the whole orphanage was filled with fascination and fear of the unknown, like a feeling that united everyone in the search for answers. The baby, oblivious to the turmoil around him, was there quietly, naked, waiting for his bath, with that enigma that defied any explanation. However, after all the speculation about the mysterious symbols on Matthew’s skin, one person in particular stood out among the staff.
It was a young security guard, Gabriel, who had a peculiar interest in ancient cultures and esoteric symbolism and things that no one can explain. He went to the nursery to have a look at the baby, and as he watched the baby sleeping, something in the marks caught his eye. “This one,” he said, pointing to a specific symbol, an intricate spiral intertwined with what looked like an eye. His voice trembled when he recognized the markings. “I’ve…”
