Mother looked around, then lowered her quivering voice and asked, "Can he hear what I say?"
The son shook his head, his eyes showing a trace of reverence: "The Lord is a good man. Mom, from now on please don't say anything bad about the Lord."
He bowed his head and glanced at the spikes beneath his feet. Those spikes were constantly trying to pierce into the flesh of his soles, yet a hint of disdain flashed in his eyes.
Once upon a time, he was just like everyone else here, standing upon this land, suffering the pain of the ground's spikes every moment.
The spikes were like living creatures, desperately trying to take root in their bodies, tearing their skin, and devouring their flesh and blood.
Every step felt like enduring torture in Hell, agonizing beyond words.
He remembered vividly the moment when the spikes pierced his body, blood gushed out, staining the ground beneath his feet.
At the beginning, screams and cries echoed in his ears, as if a curse from this land itself.
