He darted forward, higgledy - piggledy, his little legs hitting the damp ground censoriously. The wind blew his hat backward and it fell, but that didn't seem to make him relent, rather it made him increase his pace. His heart pounded briskly, and he sweated profusely.
His father's voice: " knagslot run!".
He glanced back, a torrent of fear exploded in his heart. His dad was on his knees, a figure - stocky, radiated a smile. He kept on running, his vision blurry, the wind prosteperous, the light in the sky faint, the foliages - many.
" You piece of crap," the stocky figure voice boomed. " I thought you are Almighty that you are strong but you are nothing, you can't even face me".
" But what did I do to deserve all this," pleaded his father.
" A lot!, a damn lot, you hindered my progress, it was always you in the limelight, always receiving the fame the praises while I got nothing, but hell!. I guess nothing lasts forever afterall".
