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Listen to My Heart and I Obey

By Red Valentinos All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy

Chapter 1

Looking up at the brilliant sunlight, Ayble sighed. It was another bright day. At least, it would be if he hadn't just lost another job. No matter where he went, it felt like there was a black cloud hanging over his head. The longest he'd held a job was two months.

Unsurprisingly, it was his inability to hold a job that drove off every girl he met.


But at the same time, it was probably for the better. He didn't feel any attraction towards the opposite sex. He just tried to pursue girls so his father would shut up.


"Finding a woman is the key to a happy life, son!"


Yeah. Sure. This came from a man who'd had a divorce less than five years after marriage due to being a raging alcoholic. Ayble ran his hands through his blond hair and started walking home. He was still living with his father, and he was less than pleased about it.


Ayble wanted to move out and get on with his life. He wanted a nice house near a forest where it was quiet, and maybe a kid or two. But, then he's right back to square one. No girl in his life meant no kids. Damn.


Kicking a stone aside, he glared down at the sidewalk. It wasn't really his fault he couldn't hold a job. He did everything right. The problem was the people he worked with.


Ayble, at twenty-two years old, had a face and body that seemed to be carved by angels, despite his thin build. Meaning, any guy he worked with that had a girl usually lost their girl to him. Woman that didn't know him threw themselves at him practically. Now you factor in jealousy, and you effectively have fellow employees plotting to have him fired. With Ayble being the new guy, he got fired quick.


Still, it wasn't all bad. He at least had a roof over his head.


The blond rounded a corner and saw his old, beat up blue house in the distance. "Beat up" being an understatement. The paint was peeling off, the siding was coming down, there was fire damage in the back where the kitchen was, go figure, and a fair number of the shingles on the roof were actually on the ground.


Ayble would gladly shell out the money for repairs, but he couldn't hold a job, and his father was still an alcoholic. He was grateful in that his old man wasn't abusive, but he hated walking into the smell of booze.


Trudging across old cracked concrete, Ayble made his way to the front porch of his home, if he wanted to call it that. The front door barely held on to the hinges in the wood, and the screen was held on with duct tape. Not the best method for repairs, but it worked.


His pale and scarred hand gripped the doorknob and he jerked it open. Despite the severe lack of security, this crummy house of his had yet to be broken into. Probably because the stench drove people away.


Ayble walked into the living room and coughed at the smell of sweat, beer, and piss. On the torn up couch lay his father, passed out with a near empty bottle of beer in his hand.


"Right where I left you,"Ayble bitterly spat.


Looking around, there was dirty laundry all over the place, and some of it was women's underwear. Great. The old man was sleeping around again. Frustrated, Ayble scooped up all of the clothing in sight and dumped it into a basket at the foot of the couch.


"I hate my life."


The basket was quickly loaded and then overloaded with laundry, and Ayble managed to lift it up and carry it out to the side yard where the clotheslines were hung.


He grunted heavily as he dumped the basket down on the dying grass and stripped off his shirt. Storming back inside and grumbling that he did everything around the house, he grabbed a large metal bin and a wash board.


Yeah. The old man spent so much on alcohol that all Ayble had to do laundry was a wash board and a few clotheslines.


Ayble himself hated doing the laundry. It always resulted in catching his hands on the bent metal at least once, hence why his hands were so scarred.


The ratty old green hose was still lying on the ground from the last time he'd cleaned everything, and there was a container of homemade soap next to it, and Ayble dumped the bin and wash board down. Snatching the hose up, he gave the valve in the side of the house a kick and water started flowing.


Ayble was impatient. As always. Life without a mother had shortened his fuze drastically. So when the lining on the hose fell apart in his hand, his teeth ground together and he glared at the infernal pile of dry rotted cloth before he growled and marched into the house.


His loud footsteps rattled the house, and the blond stopped when he heard a groan from the living room.


"What's goin' on, what's with the noise, Aybe? Yer givin' me a headache."


The blond snarled in disgust and walked into the living room. His father was so out of it that it took him a few minutes to realize when Ayble had snatched the bottle of beer from his hand.


"Maybe if you'd stop drinking so much, you wouldn't have a headache. I need about thirty dollars."


"What the hell do you need that kind of money for? That's my drinkin' money!"


Ayble was about to loose his temper. In all his years, Ayble had never seen his old man sober. It kind of stung him now to see his father drunk with a hangover and looking for more alcohol.


"I need it for a new hose so I can do the laundry! Besides, you're drunk off your ass! You don't need any more beer!" Ayble barked.


His father grumbled and took his wallet out of his packet. "Get me a six pack, alright?"


The younger male snatched the wallet up and grabbed a jacket from under the couch. He wasn't going to bother with a t-shirt.


"You are the most pathetic person I know. You want that beer so bad, get up off your ass and shower."

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