Silverton, a mid-sized suburban town on the outskirts of a larger city. Not much happened here—people knew each other by name, kids rode bikes after school, and the local diner was always busy on weekends. It had an old park that had fallen out of fashion and a mix of neighborhoods with cozy homes and newer developments spreading out from the center. It was the kind of place that felt safe, predictable, and quietly boring—the last place you'd expect something world-shaking to happen.
20th November 2002. Late autumn. Leaves were mostly fallen, trees bare, the air crisp and damp. The Walker family was returning after visiting relatives in the countryside, on their way home. People were out, enjoying the weekend—children playing, families walking their dogs. The sky held a few clouds, but it didn't look like it would rain.
Then, suddenly, the sky darkened. Thick rain clouds covered the entire sky—not just over Silverton, but seemingly all over the world. People looked up in awe; some hurried indoors, while others took out their phones to record. Then came the downpour. Everyone took shelter. In an instant, day turned nightlike dark. Thunder crackled through the sky, and strong wind blew in every direction.
The Walker family drove on through the storm. James Walker, at the wheel, focused on the road through the heavy rain. Beside him sat his wife, Olivia, a kind woman with a gentle smile, though worry tugged at her face as she looked out the window. In the back seat, their five-year-old son, Alex, stared out into the storm.
James glanced at Alex through the rearview mirror. "Hey, buddy? Are you cold?"
"No, I'm fine," Alex replied, eyes still on the window.
Olivia turned toward him. "Honey, what's wrong? Why do you look worried?"
"I think I hear something," Alex whispered.
Olivia looked at James in confusion. "Do you hear something?"
James shook his head. "What do you hear, buddy?"
Alex's worry deepened. "I'm not sure… it sounds like crying."
James gave a comforting smile. "We don't hear anything. Maybe it's just the wind and the rain hitting the window."
Olivia agreed. "Your father is right—it's just the rain."
"Don't worry, we'll be home soon," James said.
As they neared the old park, Alex spoke again, his voice tinged with urgency. "I hear it clearly now. It's near."
"What's near?" James asked. "I don't see or hear anything."
"It's a baby. Crying. We need to help it," Alex insisted.
Olivia frowned. "A baby? I don't hear anything."
Alex tugged at his seatbelt and pulled at the door handle. "Alex! What are you doing? We can't stop in this downpour!" James shouted.
Suddenly, the car stopped in front of the park, and the locked doors clicked open on their own. Alex pushed open his door and ran into the storm.
"Alex! Come back!" Olivia yelled.
James opened his side of the door. "We need to go after him!"
They ran, splashing through puddles, chasing their son into the empty park. The place felt abandoned; streetlights flickered overhead but offered no warmth. Trees bent with the force of the storm, branches creaking like bones.
Then they saw him.
Alex stood frozen in front of a bench beneath an old, leafless tree. On the bench, wrapped in a soaked blanket, was a baby no more than a few days old, crying softly in the rain. There was no one else around. No stroller, no signs of anyone nearby—just the child, left alone in the heart of the storm.
Olivia rushed forward and scooped the baby into her arms, heart aching at the sight. James quickly joined her, brow furrowed. "Where did this kid come from?"
"I don't know," Olivia whispered, "but we can't leave him here."
They hurried back to the car, the baby still crying in her arms. James tried the ignition again, but the car remained dead. He climbed out to check under the hood, hands shaking from cold and adrenaline.
Inside, Olivia shook the baby gently. "It's going to be alright. We'll take care of you." The crying softened. Alex reached out and touched the baby's tiny hand. The infant grabbed his finger and, as if soothed, stopped crying completely.
At that moment, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The clouds began to break, and faint rays of dusk sunlight pierced the gloom.
James got back inside and turned the key again. This time, the engine roared to life.
"Quickly! We need to take him to a hospital," Olivia urged.
They drove straight to the nearest hospital, soaked to the bone, hearts racing. The doctors took the baby for immediate care. The Walkers sat in the waiting room, silent and exhausted.
"There are towels in the bag in the car," Olivia said. "Dry off yourself and Alex. I'll stay here."
James took Alex to the car. "Did you hear this baby cry?" he asked.
"Yes," Alex replied. "I told you. But you didn't believe me."
James placed a hand on Alex's head. "I'm sorry we didn't. You saved a life. Good job. Now let's head back inside."
They returned to the waiting room, and soon the doctor came out. "He's a bit cold and hungry, but otherwise fine," he said, giving them a faint smile. Then, with a hint of exasperation, he added, "What happened? Why are all of you soaked? You should have been more careful with a baby, getting him wet like this."
James explained, "He's not our child. We found him in the park, wrapped in a blanket, crying."
The doctor's expression softened. "Whoever left him there is a monster. We'll keep him under observation for twenty-four hours. In the meantime, you can decide if you want to adopt him or send him to an orphanage."
Alex's eyes lit up. "Mom, what does adopt mean?"
"It means we decide if we want to keep him," Olivia replied.
Alex's face glimmered with excitement. "Can we keep him? Can we? Please?"
James thought for a moment, then nodded. "We'll think it over and give you an answer tomorrow."
That night, as the house lay silent, Olivia drifted into sleep. In her dream, a soft, golden light filled the living room. A figure—an angel, serene and silent—hovered above the crib, watching over the baby. She could feel its warmth, its presence like a quiet promise, and woke with her heart pounding, unsure if it had been real or a whisper from fate.
The next day, they returned to the hospital to finalize the adoption.
"What should we name him?" James asked.
Olivia smiled. "Maybe this boy is the angel I saw in my dream. We'll call him Angelo—Angelo Walker."
James nodded. "A beautiful name for a healthy baby."
Alex gently held the baby. "You're my little brother now, okay, Angelo?"
The infant gazed up at him, and for the first time in his short life, smiled.
And so, it began.