The Wages of Sin

It started in the dullest way possible. With a thin brown envelope. It felt important. Unignorable. A bill?

Bills. I used to pay them on time, you know. Smiled with bitten lips. Wrote thank you notes. Fretted.

It had been one of those months: car broke down, washing machine flooded the kitchen and the boiler gave up the ghost. My landlord was a greedy ass and put the rent up. The cost of living crisis backdropped the lot. I'd got nothing in the bank. Really nothing; I was already overdrawn with three weeks 'til payday.

With a dutiful sigh and shaking hands, I slit the envelope open, resolving to call whoever-it-was straight away and plead for time, using my most polite Telephone Voice. Or, worst case scenario, cry.

It was a credit card. I almost threw it in the bin, relieved. At least it wasn't someone demanding money.

Why did I hesitate? Tempted by the lure of "extra" money?

Wait.

It was pre-paid.

Is it a mistake? If I spend the money on here, will I have to pay it back?

Screw it. I'd be no worse off than I am now. I'll be better off. So I used it.

But listen.

It had five hundred on it when it landed on my doormat. I thought I rinsed it, but a statement came at the end of the month showing I'd barely made a dent.

More money trickles in at random times. Sometimes just a few pennies, sometimes hundreds of pounds.

It took me weeks to figure it out. Every time I'm a shitty person, my benefactor tops it up.

When I play a mean prank on a co-worker, cut someone off in traffic, hang around in Starbucks and take someone else's shit coffee.. kerchiiiing.

I insulted my boss, got fired, and now I'm a professional social media troll. I cuss, pay bills late, and swap the carboard sleeves on normal and vegan meals.

It's not free. It's costing me something.

I linger on train platforms, watching people standing too close to the edge. That's a non-earner. I'd actually have to do it.

I walk, a kitchen knife in my jacket. Thinking.

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Word count: 366 words

Submitted on: 4th January at 8.09 AM

* * * Author's Note * * *

As always, thank you for reading! I value your engagement. I do my best to reciprocate all reads, so please leave a comment to make that easier for me. (Please don't comment with a link unless you're taking part.)

The story behind the story: I'm writing a microfiction story every day in 2024. I know, mental, right? This one is my fourth. Four down, 362 to go!

Prompt: My "can't see" story wasn't ready, but this one was! I used a prompt from Serina Carroll for this one: A prepaid debit card that rewarded her every time she made someone cry. I took it a bit further because my brain is probably a bit wrong.

If you are joining me in the "story every day" lark: please do comment with a link to your story! If you think, "bugger that for a game of soldiers" but you think you could do something with this debit card idea, you're welcome to link to it.

Here are my previous "story every day" stories so far:

1st January - A New Beginning

2nd January - The Other Guy

3rd January - One Day, I just Disappeared

I will come back and edit to include links to others who took part!