Super Mysterious
What Would You Do if You Were Rich- Challenge Entry
If I were rich (and I don't mean "buy a small island" rich, just "I can finally unclench my jaw and maybe afford Whataburger without guilt" rich), the very first thing I'd do is unleash my inner financial superhero. I wouldn't have a cape or a secret bat cave or anything like that... my uniform would be my same old torn up fishnets and boots. My lair would be my house. My super power would be eradicating debt, one unsuspecting soul at a time. Not because I dream of a zero balance like some people dream of the next iPhone (though not going into debt for a phone would be pretty sweet), but because debt is the arch nemesis of joy. It's that constant, nagging villain that doesn't seem to die. It's impossible to focus on your secret origin story, let alone your passions or purpose, when your brain is busy calculating which bill can survive being paid two days late.
People love to spout platitudes like, "Money is just paper." Oh, bless their innocent, likely debt-free hearts. Money isn't just paper, my friends. Money is time. Every dollar is an hour of your life you traded away, an hour you'll never get back. If I were rich, I'd be driven by a cosmic sense of responsibility to make every one of those precious hours count for something truly meaningful.
Once I'd achieved that clean slate, I'd finally be able to inhale deeply enough to conjure the life I actually want... and it's not a Mermalair filled with gadgets. I don't want a mansion or an invisible boat mobile (too much polishing, frankly). I just want impact. I want to be useful. I want to be the quiet, unassuming hero who operates under the radar. A financial ninja, if you will... but with fewer throwing stars.
One of my first heroic endeavors would be to establish a no kill, donation based pet sanctuary. Picture it: a sprawling haven, not unlike the Hall of Justice, but for furry, feathered, and scaled companions who've had a rough life. This wouldn't be just any shelter, it would be the S.P.C.A of dreams, filled with animals who deserve a safe space and are treated like the invaluable sidekicks they are. A place where volunteers (like jr super heroes in training) can help out, or where families can find a companion. A place where even a weary hero can just sit with a creature who needs a friend just as much as they do.
As a homeschooling mom, I'd also channel my newly acquired wealth into creating epic experiences, not only for my own mini heroes but for other families too. I'd be the "Field trip Fairy Godmother," who gets to organize small groups and whisk them away on adventures that don't require anyone to choose between learning about dinosaurs and paying the electric bill. Museums, science centers, nature trails, historical sites... all of it would be accessible. I'd take the kiddos on educational escapades that provide immersive learning experiences free from the villainous grip of budget constraints.
Through it all, I would operate under the strictest code of anonymity. I wouldn't want a single speck of recognition. No "Financier" plaque on a bench, no commemorative brick in a walkway somewhere. I wouldn't want to be thanked publicly or privately. My greatest satisfaction would come from helping people without them ever knowing it was me.
If someone's car is about to be repossessed by the nefarious "Repo Man," I want the balance to mysteriously vanish. If a family is drowning in medical bills, facing off against the formidable "Healthcare Crisis," I want them to open their account and find a miracle, a sudden surge of funds that vanquishes their financial woes. If a family is locked in a desperate struggle, forced to choose between groceries and gas, I want them to find a gift card in their mailbox with no return address. I'd be the financial equivalent of a superhero, not the flashy kind with a cape and a tragic back story (though my back story involves a lot of freakin credit card debt, which is pretty tragic), but the quiet kind who slips in mysteriously and just fixes what's broken.
I want relief for everyone. I just want to make life easier for us all and more possible for people who are doing their best in a world that keeps moving the finish line. If I were rich, I wouldn't want power. I'd want purpose. I'd want to turn my dollars (my hours of life, remember?) into something that outlives me, a legacy of quiet assistance. I want to do something that matters, and just know that somewhere out there, someone is breathing a little bit easier in a world where damn near everything feels too hard. My greatest triumph would be the unacknowledged sigh of relief, the unseen smile, the quiet possibility blooming in a once strained life. I wouldn't be saving the whole world from supervillains, but I'd be saving individual worlds from the mundane, yet equally devastating villains of financial strain and stress. In my book, that's a feat worth celebrating, even if no one knows who's behind the mask (or in my case, the torn up fishnets).
This is my entry for Kay Husnick's Unofficial Vocal Challenge, which I was pretty inspired by! You can find it here:
About the Creator
Sara Wilson
I love Ugly Things.
I try and be active AND interactive.
I write... whatever I feel.
Sometimes it's happy.. sometimes it isn't. But it's real. And it's me.
Keep reading
More stories from Sara Wilson and writers in Confessions and other communities.
The Salt in her Voice
The myth says mermaids sing to lure sailors to their death. But why? The ocean is huge. Only 5 percent has been discovered by man. Why would a creature of the sea with that much space to roam ever care about the fate of men on ships? The answer, as it turns out, is not a simple one at all. The truth about the myth is older than the tides. Long ago before the first ship ever cut across the surface, the sea made a pact with the sky. The sky would take the souls of the drowned. Anyone who died in storms or any quiet accidents of the deep would have their soul lifted upward to the Heavens while the bodies would remain below, feeding the oceans endless hunger. The greedy sea however wanted more souls than the sky would claim. So it created mermaids. It gave them beautiful voices woven from currents and moonlight. It commanded them to sing. "Bring forth the ones who float where they should sink." it instructed them. So they did. They never killed out of malice but out of obligation. They sung to summon, not to seduce. A mermaid's voice could loosen the tether between the body and soul, making any man step willingly into the water. The sea would take the body and the sky would take the soul. Balance maintained.
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I Never Expected a Stranger to Teach Me This Lesson
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I stared into my untouched cup of tea as if it held answers. “Long day?” The voice startled me. I looked up to see an older man standing beside my table. He wasn’t dressed in anything remarkable — simple shirt, worn shoes, calm eyes. I nodded politely. “You could say that,” I replied. He smiled gently and asked if he could sit. Normally, I would have refused. I’m not the kind of person who easily opens up to strangers. But something about his presence felt unthreatening — almost comforting. So I agreed. We sat in silence for a moment. Then he said something unexpected. “You look like someone who’s carrying a question you don’t know how to ask.” That caught me off guard. I laughed awkwardly. “I guess I’m just tired.” “Tired,” he repeated. “Or disappointed?” I didn’t know why, but his words unlocked something. Maybe it was because he didn’t know me. Maybe it was because he had no expectations of who I was supposed to be. Whatever the reason, I found myself speaking honestly. “I’ve been trying really hard,” I admitted. “But nothing seems to work. It feels like I’m stuck. Like maybe I’m not meant for what I want.” He listened carefully. Not the kind of listening where someone waits for their turn to speak — but the kind where someone truly hears you. After I finished, he nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me,” he asked, “when you first started chasing this goal, why did you want it?” The question felt simple, yet I struggled to answer immediately. “Because I believed I could do something meaningful,” I finally said. “Because it felt right.” “And now?” “Now it feels exhausting.” He smiled softly. “Sometimes,” he said, “we don’t get tired of the dream. We get tired of doubting ourselves.” His words stayed in the air. He went on to tell me a brief story about his own life — how he once left a stable job to start something risky. How he failed. How people laughed. How he almost gave up. And how the lesson he learned wasn’t about success or failure — it was about identity. “I realized,” he said, “that I was measuring my worth by outcomes. But outcomes are temporary. Effort is character. Persistence is character. Even failure is character. If you only feel valuable when you win, you’ll feel worthless most of the time.” I felt that sentence deeply. For months, I had been tying my confidence to results. Every rejection felt personal. Every delay felt like proof that I wasn’t good enough. I had forgotten that growth rarely looks glamorous. “You know,” he added, finishing his tea, “the world doesn’t decide who you are. It only reacts to what you keep showing up for.” That line shifted something inside me. We talked for another fifteen minutes. Nothing dramatic. Nothing life-changing on the surface. Just calm conversation. When he stood up to leave, he gave me one last piece of advice. “Don’t quit on yourself during a slow chapter. Stories need those parts too.” And then he walked away. I never saw him again. But I carried that conversation home with me. That night, instead of replaying my failures, I replayed his words. I realized that I had been expecting progress to look loud and obvious. I had been expecting reassurance from the outside world. What I truly needed was internal steadiness. The stranger didn’t solve my problems. My goals didn’t suddenly become easier. But something important changed — my mindset. I stopped asking, “Why isn’t this working for me?” And started asking, “What is this teaching me?” The difference was powerful. Weeks later, opportunities began appearing — not because life suddenly felt sorry for me, but because I showed up differently. I stopped carrying desperation. I carried quiet confidence instead. Sometimes I wonder who that man was. Maybe he was just someone passing through. Maybe he had no idea how much his words mattered. But that’s the beauty of it. We don’t always get lessons from people who stay in our lives. Sometimes they come from those who cross our path briefly, say exactly what we need to hear, and disappear. I went to that café feeling stuck and unseen. I left realizing that my value was never on trial — only my patience was. And all it took was a stranger to remind me.
By Khan about 18 hours ago in Confessions
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Comments (4)
I love the fishnets!
I love your style (with the fishnets and with the approach here).
Finally, someone telling them that money isn't just paper! I count money in trees (I'm a tree planter). How many trees I'd have to plant to afford this? One tree is around 25cent, so everything is expensive. :D I love your rich goals. I wish more people would aim for such riches, not only for 'just paper'.
What a dream that would be 🤤