Aiya [part 1]

A/N: before I even start I'm just going to apologize because blogs are due really super soon and I needed blogs so I kind of wrote an entire short story and it's like eleven parts so strap in it's going to be a long one. Also it's really long because I kind of milked it and split it into eleven 2-250 word parts. Blogs are hard to come by. Don't look at me like that.

Veronni Adain was born in the slums of Aiya to one of the poorest families in the sector. He was a happy baby, and, given his dire circumstances, he remained carefree and excitable throughout the entirety of his youth. His wide blue eyes saw something in the world that the people around him could not; he saw beauty.

His mother scraped together her meager savings to buy him some paper and pencils for his tenth birthday saying that every little boy should have a chance for creativity. By giving him that pitiful excuse of an art set, she’d given him his future.

Veronni used every inch of those precious pages writing and sketching. He would sit outside in the dirt and watch the world happen around him, and transpose it to paper. But his drawings were special; different. The slums of Aiya were drab and gross and small with too many people packed into too little space. Yet somehow, the pencil of a ten year old made it worth looking twice at.

He would catch the passing smiles of children who ran by playing tag in their bare feet and brown clothes, or the relieved look on a mother’s face when she saw her husband returning from another successful day at the mill. The people said Veronni possessed some sort of magic and would pay money just to have his beautiful versions of reality hanging on their rotten wooden walls.