They say the world is not a wish granting factory. They were correct.
His only wish was to dance. All he wanted to do was dance. He’d seen other children being praised for their dancing on television. They had fans! They had fame! And they did what they loved. Dance.
But here he was serving food to unknown people at a run-down hotel. His father couldn’t afford to grant his wishes. All wishes needed money. His father didn’t have much. His father had worked hard all his life to bring up his only son in the best possible manner but he couldn’t grant his sole wish. How cruel could destiny be?
He was going to take destiny in his own hands now. He would no longer cower down in fear and shame of letting go of his dreams. He’d do anything to fulfill his dream. Beg. Borrow. Or even kill. And kill he did. He killed his father’s pride. He killed his mother’s love. He killed his family’s name. He killed for money.
He had taken destiny in his own hands. But he didn’t know destiny had other plans in store. He’d live his dream. Only to be haunted by the dreams he’d killed.
The world, after all, is not a wish granting factory.