An unnamed beach on an unnamed island is the place she chooses to spend the rest of her days. A bounty of plunder sits buried in a place only she knows. Her small ship bobs on the jetty she made, just down from the hut she's built. The sun is out. The gulls caw. She's very rich and no one knows where she is.
She doesn't plan to do anything with the booty, but just the thought of the old rich men being deprived of their fortunes brings a smile to her lips. She sips from a bottle of wine that a younger version of her would never have dreamed of tasting. It's a touch too tangy for her, but the pleasure is in knowing someone is going spare at the thought of it missing from their cabinet.
Paddy Dobson
17th September 2022