Overpaid writer

Mumbo sat on the edge of his chair, his fingers trembling as he opened the banking app on his phone. He had known for weeks that his writing was earning him money, more than he had ever made at the construction site, but he hadn't dared to look too closely at the numbers. Fear of disappointment had kept him away. What if it wasn't as much as he hoped? What if it was all a mistake?

But now, with his family's eviction looming, he had no choice. He needed to know exactly what he was working with. The screen loaded, and the numbers appeared.

Mumbo's heart stopped.

The amount in his account wasn't just large it was astronomical. Six figures stared back at him, an amount he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and checked again, convinced it was a glitch. But the numbers didn't change.

He scrolled through the transactions and found the source of the fortune: one particular deal that had paid out far more than he had expected. The memory of signing the online contract came rushing back. He'd been desperate, so desperate that he hadn't even read the terms carefully. It was supposed to be just another story commission, but now it had changed his life.

For a moment, Mumbo felt dizzy. This kind of money could do more than save his parents' land it could buy another plot of equal value, clear their debts, and still leave enough to secure their future. But then came the dread. How would he explain this to his parents?

They didn't understand the internet. To them, it was a playground for scammers and distractions, not a place where fortunes could be made. How could he possibly tell them he'd earned this money by sharing stories about his failures and heartbreak? Even he struggled to believe it sometimes.

The guilt crept in like an unwelcome guest. He felt like a fraud, profiting from his misery while his family suffered. His stories had become a goldmine, but at what cost? He felt like a thief, not of money, but of people's time and empathy.

Mumbo stood and began pacing his small apartment, his mind racing. He couldn't just show up with a pile of cash. That would raise too many questions. He needed a plan, a way to help his parents without making them suspicious.

As the hours passed, an idea began to take shape. He would funnel the money into something tangible, something his parents could understand. A business, maybe, or a mysterious benefactor. He didn't know all the details yet, but one thing was certain: their lives were about to change.

For the first time in years, Mumbo didn't take the train home. He booked a flight. The thought felt surreal as he packed his bags, leaving behind the dusty apartment that had been both his prison and his refuge.

The airport was a world he hadn't visited in years. Watching planes take off and land, he felt like he was stepping into a different life. He boarded the flight, his nerves tingling as the engines roared. As the plane soared into the sky, Mumbo stared out of the window, the city shrinking below him.

He was reborn.

The landscape stretched out beneath him, and his thoughts turned to his family. He thought about his father, who had worked his whole life on the farm, his hands calloused and his back bent from decades of labor. He thought about his mother, who had scraped and saved to make sure he had books and uniforms for school. He thought about his siblings, the ones who had silently supported him even as his failures dragged the family down.

Mumbo had been the favored son, the one they all believed would redeem the family. Instead, he had gambled away their future. Even though they never said it, he could feel their pain. They didn't blame him, but their quiet understanding only made the guilt heavier.

The plane landed with a gentle bump, and Mumbo stepped into the small rural airport near his hometown. He took a deep breath of the fresh countryside air, the familiar smell of earth and rain welcoming him back.

A cab dropped him off at the edge of the village, and he walked the rest of the way, his bag slung over his shoulder. As he neared his family's home, memories flooded back—playing soccer with his brothers in the yard, sitting around the fire with his parents, dreaming about a future that had once seemed so bright.

The house came into view, its walls weathered and its roof patched in places. His father was sitting on the porch, staring out at the horizon, his face etched with worry. Mumbo's heart ached. He had to fix this.

"Mumbo!" his mother called out as she spotted him. She rushed to him, pulling him into a tight hug. "You didn't tell us you were coming!"

"I needed to be here," Mumbo said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him.

His father stood, his gaze softening. "It's good to see you, son."

Mumbo smiled, but the weight of what he needed to do pressed down on him. He couldn't tell them everything atleast not yet. But he would find a way.

That evening, as the family gathered for dinner, Mumbo sat quietly, observing them. They laughed and talked, trying to mask their fear of the looming eviction. Mumbo knew he had the power to change everything, but the question lingered: how?

As he lay in bed that night, staring at the familiar cracks on the ceiling, a plan began to form. He would use the money to save the land and secure his family's future, but he would do it in a way they could understand. A way that wouldn't shatter their trust or their perception of him.

Mumbo closed his eyes, his resolve hardening. He didn't just want to save the land, he wanted to redeem himself in their eyes.

But the road ahead wouldn't be easy, and he had no idea what challenges lay in wait.