Rich Man
A DILEMMA OF WEALTH — FLASH FICTION
John stood in the dusty, empty attic of the old barn of a house. Outside, the sun shined brightly. Shafts of light lit dust particles in the air as he shuffled over to the spot where the floor boards were loose. He lifted one and then another. Finally, he could see the object of his quest, a tan and brown suitcase hidden beneath the attic floor. He set the dusty boards aside, took the case out and set it on the floor.
Flipping open the two latches, he opened the case. Though he’d seen it before, his heart raced with excitement. Sure enough, there, just as he’d left it was a case full of $100 dollar bills banded together in packets of 100. John took one packet out and fanned one end next to his ear. He loved the sound $10,000 made. The fact that there were 100 such stacks in the suitcase made his heart race even more.
John slipped the packet into his shirt pocket, closed the case and placed it back in it’s hiding place between the floor joists. He replaced the boards, climbed back down the steep stairs and locked the door leading up to the attic.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, went out on the deck and sat down. He looked out over the green pasture that once had held horses, but did no more. Perhaps soon, he thought, perhaps I’ll buy a horse.
The old barn behind the house hadn’t been used in decades. It would need some work, cleaning, mainly. The roof was good; the stalls intact. It could be done.
It would be fun to have a horse and go riding everyday. He’d explore the trails in the woods behind the house and the hills beyond. Follow the creek up into the mountains. Camp overnight, do some fishing, have fried trout for breakfast. He could afford it now.
Having worked as a hired hand on a ranch as a young man, John knew how to ride and care for horses, but he’d never dreamed of having one of his own. With Claire’s medical expenses and all the other expenses and little income, he just couldn’t manage it. Still, he loved to ride. The thought of riding through the hills behind the house brought a smile to his weathered face. He felt like a kid again.
He could buy a new truck and a horse trailer; maybe do some horse camping. He’d always dreamed of going to Montana and riding some of the mountain trails; maybe take a pack horse along to carry his gear.
He’d be able to fix up the old house, too. Get the drain for the washer fixed and the repair the tub in the main bath. It hadn’t worked in years.
He could replace those drafty windows. Put in some of those new, double-pane windows with the high insulation value. That would help with the winter drafts.
But… there was a problem: the money.
He’d lived in the house 50 years and not known it was there. It was only after Claire died and he’d cleaned out the attic that he’d found it. After moving a stack of boxes, he’d stepped on one of the loose boards. He was surprised to find it wasn’t nailed down, so he removed it and that’s when he’d seen the suitcase.
The money — who did it belong to? Was it stolen? Were the bills marked? Did he dare spend any of it? Should he turn it in?
He took the stack of $100s out of his pocket and placed them on the table. He looked at them for a long time as he sipped his coffee.
Finally, he got up, stuck the money back in the pocket of his overalls, unlocked the attic door and climbed the stairs. He retrieved the suitcase, replaced the stack of bills in it, closed it and took it downstairs.
He put on his John Deere cap and carried the suitcase out to his old, beat-up Ford pickup truck, put it in the passenger seat and closed the door. He walked slowly around the back of the truck, got in and started the engine. A sadness crept over him as he headed down the lane.
He knew he had to report it, even if it meant the money would never be his. That’s what Claire would have wanted. He knew it was the right thing to do. Still…
I haven’t written much fiction and never flash fiction, so I thought I’d give it a try. Hope you liked it. As always, responses always welcomed.
This story was inspired by Kevin Buddaeus when he challenged his readers to write about what they’d do with a million dollars. What would you do?
I was also inspired by Ann K Frailey and her fiction. Thanks for the encouragement, Ann.
Thanks to Alex Kilcannon for her fine “How to” on Flash Fiction
And her two wonderful examples:
and
And for her encouragement to try my hand at fiction. I promised myself at the beginning of May that I’d write 4 pieces of fiction by the end of May. This is my first. I better get busy, huh?
Happy Reading, Imagining, Writing and Connecting.
