With DreamBank, insomnia became a chimera. With a subscription, you streamed curated dreams: first love, perfect nights, summer vacations that never were. Lana overdrafted nightly, chasing fantasies that felt like hers. When she stopped paying, collectors called; they didn’t want money. They repossessed the dreams. She woke one blank morning, with a receipt stamped PAID—and realized the life she remembered had been the collateral all along, with interest compounding in somebody else’s waking hours.
My late brother’s flat-bottomed skiff lies half-submerged since sharks snapped the keel and dragged him off. After three days on this sandbank, a five-hour swim to the shore is beyond me.
Tomorrow I'll try the radio unless the tide floods it.
The last surviving Hawksbill turtles in the world, the ones I promised my father I’d rescue, taste bitter and tough with no wood to cook them with.
When the family played Monopoly together, the children always took turns being the banker to avoid arguments. Zara always said that when Zeke was Banker, he was an embezzler. Impatient Zeb said that Zara was too slow to distribute needed cash, always counting twice to be sure every dollar issued was correct. But Zara was much quicker to collect rents and fines. Mom usually won. Wall Street banking may be Zara’s future.
It was a slow-moving river with steep earth banks, ideal for water voles whose homes nestled amidst lush vegetation. Kingfishers had lived there for years, tunnels excavated into the mud for their nests.
In autumn the banks were cleared of trees and vegetation, removing the natural barrier which slowed the rainwaters.
That winter it never stopped raining, fast-flowing water washed away the earth banks.
The perpetrators called it necessary. Illegal destruction declared the environmentalists.
I persuaded daddy to be the signatory so I could have my own account. He said he would keep me now I was a widow. But I had a job at the newspaper and needed somewhere for my wages. We had got to the counter. The manager was on his way. They burst in and daddy stepped forward to protect me. Those gangsters shot him down. The red on daddy's shirt, my future, both dying.
By morning the exhaust had cooled. Its metal body felt like it had fused to the left side of my face.
I hear footsteps against the thick concrete of the car park. It’s time to move. I leave when the shadows shield me. We are one inside these moments. To the naked eye I’m nothing but a shape dodging headlights.
I have ten minutes to get into the vault and take back what he stole.
At dusk, Rose writes the note, in the same spot on the riverbank she returns to each year since her boy drowned. She folds the page, placing it in the usual patch. But the soil is disturbed. She digs. There’s a note with her name. It was your fault Mum. Rose screams. The river gurges, rising, muffling her groan. Icy water takes her ankles. Tomorrow, someone will find her reply.
School Reunion
“You look just the same,” Jeannette lies.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” you lie back.
It’s 40 years since you met, and — as your rude brother puts it — a lot of water has been passed since then.
You hope Jeannette is not lying as much as you are.
Jeannette is really fat, while you still bank on the figure that attracted the sixth-form boys.
And Jeannette’s much more wrinkled than you are.
Isn’t she?
Bank Error in Your Favour
‘Hello, I’m phoning from your bank.’
Red flags fluttered.
‘It’s about a suspicious transaction we’ve noticed on your account.’
‘What would that be, exactly?’
‘Have you bought two new 17e i-Phones yesterday?’
‘What if I have?’
I knew full well I hadn’t.
He insisted I verify my bank details.
Scammers!
I hung up.
Opened the bank app.
Someone had paid five thousand quid into my account.
Mistakenly.
I wasn’t going to question it.
Finders keepers!
FORECLOSURE
With DreamBank, insomnia became a chimera. With a subscription, you streamed curated dreams: first love, perfect nights, summer vacations that never were. Lana overdrafted nightly, chasing fantasies that felt like hers. When she stopped paying, collectors called; they didn’t want money. They repossessed the dreams. She woke one blank morning, with a receipt stamped PAID—and realized the life she remembered had been the collateral all along, with interest compounding in somebody else’s waking hours.
Message from a Sandbank
My late brother’s flat-bottomed skiff lies half-submerged since sharks snapped the keel and dragged him off. After three days on this sandbank, a five-hour swim to the shore is beyond me.
Tomorrow I'll try the radio unless the tide floods it.
The last surviving Hawksbill turtles in the world, the ones I promised my father I’d rescue, taste bitter and tough with no wood to cook them with.
I’m also the last in my line.
Banking on a Win
When the family played Monopoly together, the children always took turns being the banker to avoid arguments. Zara always said that when Zeke was Banker, he was an embezzler. Impatient Zeb said that Zara was too slow to distribute needed cash, always counting twice to be sure every dollar issued was correct. But Zara was much quicker to collect rents and fines. Mom usually won. Wall Street banking may be Zara’s future.
Worm Hole
The blast door hangs open like a raided bank vault; the others must’ve gone ahead.
The rasps from Sia’s respirator quicken. Moonlight reflects off her helmet visor.
I clasp a thickly-gloved hand. I want to say it’s OK; the future we dream of is on the far side.
But there’s no word from the others. Does an endless dark void await us instead?
More explosions. Closer now.
She squeezes my hand and pulls me through.
CLEARANCE
It was a slow-moving river with steep earth banks, ideal for water voles whose homes nestled amidst lush vegetation. Kingfishers had lived there for years, tunnels excavated into the mud for their nests.
In autumn the banks were cleared of trees and vegetation, removing the natural barrier which slowed the rainwaters.
That winter it never stopped raining, fast-flowing water washed away the earth banks.
The perpetrators called it necessary. Illegal destruction declared the environmentalists.
BONNIE AND CLYDE..
I persuaded daddy to be the signatory so I could have my own account. He said he would keep me now I was a widow. But I had a job at the newspaper and needed somewhere for my wages. We had got to the counter. The manager was on his way. They burst in and daddy stepped forward to protect me. Those gangsters shot him down. The red on daddy's shirt, my future, both dying.
By morning the exhaust had cooled. Its metal body felt like it had fused to the left side of my face.
I hear footsteps against the thick concrete of the car park. It’s time to move. I leave when the shadows shield me. We are one inside these moments. To the naked eye I’m nothing but a shape dodging headlights.
I have ten minutes to get into the vault and take back what he stole.
Payment Due
At dusk, Rose writes the note, in the same spot on the riverbank she returns to each year since her boy drowned. She folds the page, placing it in the usual patch. But the soil is disturbed. She digs. There’s a note with her name. It was your fault Mum. Rose screams. The river gurges, rising, muffling her groan. Icy water takes her ankles. Tomorrow, someone will find her reply.