Oliver hacked away at the rugged stone in front of him. His face and hands blackened by the very thing that he had been faced with his entire life. He did not think much, and when he did, he thought about coal. It’s how he’d been taught since he could remember a thing.

The sound of his pickaxe clashing with the stone was nothing to him anymore. To anyone that had never done such a laborious task it would be excruciatingly difficult to endure. However, in Oliver’s case it was nothing to be concerned about. His immunity to the sounds and pressures of the job were what made him the perfect candidate.

Some had murmured of it being slave work, but Oliver didn’t know the difference between being a slave and being free. How could he possibly know? He couldn’t, as he worked to eat, and that was plenty for him. Those who would run away, were eaten by beasts or murdered by bandits anyway. There was no freedom outside of the mining town.

Oliver continued as he always had. His arms strained but he pushed forward, his eyes glazed by thoughtlessness. His arms were thin, but defined enough to show how much effort he put into his profession.

Hack…hack…hack…

Yelling echoed through his tunnel, and he knew it wasn’t far. It was not uncommon for his fellow miners to get into altercations, so he pushed it to the side for now. Continuing through the rock that faced him, the yelling came closer.

“Kyron!”

“Bastard!”

“Freak!”

Oliver turned around, this was more commotion than before.

“Kyron must have really done it this time…” Oliver whispered to himself.

He peered around the corner to see a scuffle between Kyron and the Foreman. The bearded man held him by the collar of his jacket, his eyes filled with anger. The younger man’s face was bruised and dirty.

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“No one here will ever join your fantasies!” the Foreman shouted, saliva flying onto Kyron’s face as he retracted his neck in disgust.

“How can no one here see that this endless mining will lead us nowhere? We weren’t meant for this! We are supposed to breathe the fresh air and see those blue skies!” Kyron shouted in return, a scowl painting his face.

“You can try to get people to listen and join your so-called gang for twenty more years and I guarantee you not a single one will step out of this town with you!” the Foreman threw Kyron to the ground, the young man fell landed on his backside and looked as if he could shake the entire mine to rubble.

“Some of us were born real men with the desire to see the light, you know?” Kyron said, rubbing the gravel from his pants.

“We all see those blue skies every morning anyway, so what’s so special about it?” the Foreman chuckled.

“For what? Five minutes a day? Then we mine away the rest of our lives here.” Kyron regained his footing and stared the Foreman down.

“If you want to so bad, why don’t you follow your grandfather out there and get torn to shreds by those beasts just like him?” a smirk creeped onto the Foreman’s rough face.

“He isn’t dead. Like the rest of those who left, they’re out there chasing your dreams. I stopped believing those horror stories you made up when I first heard them! You’re full of nothing but the crap you spew to keep us here!” Kyron’s throat was growing sore by now, he could only endure so much yelling.

Oliver stood to the side, Kyron had always been a delinquent here. From the moment Oliver met him, Kyron had always talked about escaping the town and seeing what was truly out there.

“Just because he returned one time, doesn’t mean he’s still out there, Kyron. I know that loss was hard for you, but you can’t let the grief get in the way of your job. He’s been gone a long time,” the Foreman feigned pity, Oliver saw right through it and so did Kyron.

“Job? A human chooses their job. I was born into this and I didn’t get a choice. I will never pick up a pickaxe again, I told you that long ago.” Kyron scoffed.

“Right, I thought you may get some kind of sense knocked into you by my boys, but it seems you will never learn!” the Foreman then winded up a strike to Kyron.

Oliver’s heart rate spiked, Kyron was his friend. He’d never been particularly close to the rascal, but he wanted so badly to intervene. This was wrong, no matter how outlandish Kyron’s dreams were, and how rash his approach was.

Something compelled him to quickly grab the Foreman’s arm and hold him for a moment. To the Foreman’s surpise, the small boy was able to stop him, to which he swung his arm with an immense force.

Kyron’s eyes widened, he hadn’t seen Oliver do anything of the sort in all his days. He was amazed, and now motivated.

That motivation was quelled though, when Oliver was sent flying into Kyron. The two rolled backwards a few feet, and Kyron rubbed his head as Oliver crawled off of him.

“You too, Oliver? Unbelievable. What is with the youth these days?” the Foreman grabbed them both by their heads with his massive hands, dragging them out of the mine and into the cool night air.

Oliver and Kyron were nearly unconscious as they were taken to a prison-cellar in the center of town. The Foreman swung it open and threw the both of them inside, locking it promptly.

“We’ll see how long it takes for their wills to break now,” the Foreman’s eyes focused on Oliver. “Never did I think I would see you do such a thing though, kid.”