The Things I've Seen

An Average Ordinary Day In Paradise

As Osborne prepared to go the market, his mother continued to cook. They didn't talk much after the last attack which killed Osbourne's father. The Rogues managed to break through the gates and annihilate 4 guards, tearing them limb from limb and incinerating anyone who remained. He grabbed a satchel made out of old leather, it had a hole the size of an orange in the bottom and often small things such as food packs would fall through.

He slowly stumbled out into the rocky corridor without saying a word to his mother. The only thing that they exchanged was a small kiss on the forehead of Osbourne, they were both incredibly tired. Osbourne's legs felt as heavy as lead, his bare feet scraped across the floor and this often meant verrucas and blisters for Osbourne. His head rocked from side-to-side and his arms mimicked the motion. He trekked the 1.5 mile tunnel until he reached the market.

The marketplace was small and crowded, the stalls were tightly packed and the supplies sometimes fell onto the floor. However, no one stole the items that hit the ground, instead they gave them back as Paradise had a wonderful sense of community and the people often would help each other as much as possible. Osbourne walked to his usual stall. The synthetic vegetable store. 'All of the ingredients made professionally by us' - read the sign a few feet above the display.
"Ah! Osbourne!" Grumbled a rough voice from behind the stacks of vegetables.
"Glad to see you again!" The voiced yelled joyfully again as a shadow emerged. As the shadow came to light, the face of a man emerged. Tall and plump with a scruffy grey beard, quite a round man given the circumstances and hands the size of shovels. His piercing lapis lazuli eyes made contact with Osbourne's. He sweeper him up so he could see over the small crowd gathering at his store, his balding head twisted and turned to search for his son.
"Where is that blasted boy?" The man muttered, that man was named Björn Leifsson and he lived with his teenage son Martyn. Björn always helped Osbourne at the market as he new how fragile his small bones were, he always carried his satchel for him when it was full, if anything, Björn was like a father to Osbourne. Osbourne loved him like one too, Martyn knew that Osbourne did. He didn't care much because he accepted Osbourne as one of their family and he also helped care for Osbourne on many occasions.
"I shall take you to our room and prepare a good stew for your mother and yourself" said Björn, his Icelandic accent becoming prominent.
"Would you like that little guy?" Asked Martyn as he ruffled Osbourne's hair. Osbourne nodded and giggle slightly.

Björn and Martyn shut their stall and took a slow walk into the tunnels towards Osbourne and his mothers room with a bag packed to the rim with ingredients and home-distilled moonshine.