Author's Note: Just a story that I've had bouncing around my head for awhile. It has a bit of a mature theme so you've been warned. I hope you all enjoy!
I had settled down in an run down house in the slummy part of town. The walls were coming off in large chunks and if you turned the lights on in one room, they'd turn off in the other room. It wasn't much but it was a roof over my head which was all I really cared about right now, plus it was affordable.
My employment situation could be described erratic at best. I depended on WorkSourse primarily for jobs. It's almost like companies aren't interested in employing ex-felons, sometimes I wonder if they even bothered reading my applications at all before tossing them into the trash. I afforded my needs with the meager amount of money I had stashed behind before they'd locked me up. I'd promised myself that after I got out I'd live my crime days behind me, like my mama had always wanted and for the most part I had but the transition wasn't nearly as easy as I'd expected it to be. I still craved the thrill of it all.
Before I'd been locked-up I had been one of the biggest drug deals New York City had ever seen. People knew me as the Angel. I'd sold fuck tons of meth, crack, cocaine, marijuana, you name it, I'd sold it. But I was best known for the distribution of PCP, phencyclidine, otherwise known as angel dust which was popular with a lot of upstate bangers. I was good though, there wasn't a police officer that suspected what I did but I knew exactly what I was doing. It hadn't even been my own misdoing that had landed me in prison.
Some slob two-timing snitch that had gotten caught and they named everyone street criminal they knew in hopes of getting a reduced sentence. That fucking moron didn't last long; was in solitary no more than a week before someone got to his rank ass. Alone we were nothing, but united we were above even the law.
That didn't change my sentence though. Now you might thing that word-of-mouth doesn't mean much in court and you'd be right in most states. But Loisiana was the only state where word-of-mouth is all that is needed to incarcerate if someone is found guilty. And that happened to be where the snivling slob had been when he decided to let his mouth run.
I say 'was' because the law was overturned shortly after the case and I was released early on good behavior about six months ago.
I'm not a bad man, I've just done bad things. More out of circumstance than anything else... But honestly, I don't believe in making excuses. I did what I did because I chose to and it isn't anyone else's business why.
I hadn't gotten up to any nonsense I'd gotten out of prison. A lot had happend in the last five years and so I didn't leave my place much. The plebian masses had become even more docile than befor, earbuds plugged in wired directly into their pocket computers. With the help of technology they drowned out the injustices surrounding them with music and childish games. New York reeked of apathy, occasionally I'd take a stroll to our old house Queens but it only reminded me of what I didn't have to come home.
I didn't have a lot of hobbies, before prison crippin' was my entire life. In prison there was little else to do but read and work-out, and I hate reading. I'd gotten into the habit of working-out regularly, I had a routine down that I followed almost religiously. I'd start off the day with 100 pull-ups which I followed up with 380 push-ups, then about 1000 squats sometimes more and then maybe 400 or 500 lunges. 6 eggs for breakfast, chicken and rice for lunch and more chicken for dinner.
I was about half way through my morning routine when a knock came at the door, which I ignored.
"Hello? Is anyone home?" I heard as a door creeked open and an aged hispanic man peered in.
"Shit man, why you gotta be breakin' into a man's crib?" I exclaimed storming over to the door in exhasperation. I hated unexpected guests.
"I apologize... I must have the wrong address," he said, "I'm looking for a man by the name of Mark, his dad recently passed on."
"Yea, that's me..." I answered.
"What was your mother's name? I was told that I could find you at 229th St, Oakland Gardens, NY 11364, the house is vacant now. A passerby told me that I might find you here,"
"Shaniqua, she's dead now.
"I'm sorry to here that, she was a lovely woman."
"Yea..." I agreed cautiously.
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked me right in the eye.
"Do you know anything about farm work?"
"Nah, I ain't ever done nothin' like that. "
He looked at me pensively, "Your dad had one dying wish, he asked me to find you and to pass on his farm to you."
"But I ain't ever known my pops... Why'd he wanna do that?"
"You're his son."
"So? That ain't mean shit 'round here. Plenty men fuck bitches and get 'em knocked up, that don't mean they wanna give them all their crap when they die."
"Listen, you can take it or leave it. I only bothered finding you because I respected your father, and his wishes. But if you're not interested then there's nothing I can do to change that." He said.
His thick black eyebrows furrowing, they were fucking huge, you could barely see his black eyes under them. He turned as though he were going to leave.
I didn't have much going for me here and since I had been on parole up until recently I hadn't been in contact with any members of my gang. Given the last transmission I'd received had left me unsure as to whether or not I'd be back any time soon at all. Things may have slowed down, but that didn't mean I'd be down forever... I was torn between mama's last wish and my chosen path as a career criminal. I'd been in limbo up until recently, walking the fine line between being the man my mama had always wanted me to be and waiting to go blue again.
"Nah, wait! I... I'll try it. Maybe I didn't know him ever, but... I'll try it." I said suddenly.
I couldn't tell you what had motivated me to agree to it, but for whatever reason my desire to clean-up my life won out. I probably wouldn't be very good at the straight life, but this was my chance to really give it a shot.
I packed the few belongings I had, plus what cash I still had left, into a backpack. I locked-up the doors to the house kissed New York good-bye.
Forget-Me-Not Valley is about a day away from New York, NY. We stopped at Southshore, the place barely deserved to be called a city, traffic ran smoothly from light to light and the air was fresh and clean. There were trees everywhere, some of them looked as large as those that grew in central park only grew up out of the sidewalks, they made the few trees we had back home look like nothing but sprouts.
The following morning, Takakura (as I learned his name to be) and I departed to Mineral Town on a Ferry, it was a small forgettable town with insignifigant forgettable people. There was no form of public transportation beyond that point so we didn't bother staying there long, we walked the rest of the short distance to Forget-Me-Not Valley on foot.
"Your dad and I shared the same dream you know." Takakura explained to me as we entered the valley.
I nodded as he continued to ramble on about the farm and pops. He didn't seem the type to talk much but he'd made several awkward and uninteresting attempts to strike up a conversation with me since we'd left.
"He probably never told you, but I remember it all. This land you see here, your dad and I found it together. It was fallow and wild but we cleaned the place up." He continued as we approached a small rickety old farm.
"It has old, but straight, buildings. They should treat you well," he said sincerely, "So... What I'm trying to say is... I think it's your... destiny to take on this farm. I'll be here to help you out."
I nodded again, not wanting to drag on the conversation too much.
"Why don't I show you around." He offered.
I agreed politely doing the best I could to conceal my growing agitation.
"This it the barn where cattle, sheep and horse live. Next door you have the tool shed." He said showing to a barn.
Captain obvious, of course your cattle go in the barn, where else would they go?! I smiled and nodded again.
Across the yard he showed me another building, "This is the food storage, this is where you put dairy products to ship, there is also a logger where you can make orders," he said, and then turned to motioned across to another structure, "Oh! And this is the chicken co-op."
Then he took me over to my new home, "This is your house, I fixed it up alittle but it's still not much."
I smiled, it certainly looked cozier than my last place.