Sloth – Post 1

Seven Deadly Sins ~ Sloth

Seven Deadly Sins ~ Sloth (Photo credit: Leia Speia)

Well, folks, the submission box for the “Sloth” enties got hit by the spambots and I had to sort through a great many 3 word submissions, some of which may or may not have contained viruses.  I’ve been fighting with my computer and the spyware contained therein.  I think I have it all straightened out.   However, I may have blocked submissions (although the last one I tested went through).  If you submitted an entry and it doesn’t show up over the next couple of days, please e-mail it to me at

Without further ado, I present the first of the “Sloth” entries:  Please visit the authors’ websites to comment on their talent!  You may also comment below.  Thanks for reading, writing, and participating…

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From K. L. Richardson: (

As The Twig Is Bent

Even as a child Kathleen was never an exercise fanatic.  Long before the age of video games she spent her days deep in literature, dreaming of fantastic adventures in far-away lands.  The most she ever traveled was to the verdant woods adjoining her home, where she would sit for hours with her favorite book or simply watching the insects toiling on the banks of the creek.  She could spend whole days this way peacefully avoiding the harsh realities of life.  Her favorite spot was on the south bank; facing the north with the warmth of the sun on her back. In her teen years friends would come into her life staying for a brief time; it seemed that none were as exciting as her woodland empire.  While others were trying on the role of cheerleader, quarterback and class clown she was in turn, a princess, conqueror or queen.  Ordinary life could not compete against the richness of her dreams.  She was berated for her laziness; and as if to confirm it she shortened her name, now calling herself Kathy.

The world would not  be put off any longer, high school came and went, young adulthood and jobs took over her life.  On the outside she looked like she belonged in the world but inside she knew that all she wanted was to just…stop.  On the heels of jobs came marriage and children.  Again she shortened her name; becoming Kate (or ‘Mom’-even shorter).  Other mothers taught their children how to play ball, jump rope and climb trees. Kate taught her children the joys of sitting still and reading.  It looked for all the world as though she were tenderly reading to her children; she knew that once again she was escaping into her fantasy world, where movement was not required except to turn a page.  She was living in the city now, her beloved woods a thing of the past.  Life moved fast; soon there were grandchildren.  She now became K.

Marriage became difficult, it required you to do so much.  She tried  holding up her end of the bargain, but sadly couldn’t (or didn’t want to) dance fast enough it seemed. Her husband couldn’t understand what was wrong with her.  What was so difficult about living, getting out of bed, preparing a meal?  Indeed it was simple for most of the world.  Children grown and gone, eventually her husband too;  seeking a younger, more energetic playmate to amuse him.  Now indeed her world did stop.  No longer required to fix meals, or keep house (after all the cat was fine with clutter to play in) she turned again to her books, and her dreams of woods, queens and sprites.  If only she could find the wooded bliss that she enjoyed as a child.  K started to seek out parks hoping to find a glimpse of childhood forests but everywhere she went were people crowding, walking, moving for heavens sake!

One day she finally found it, a park skirting her suburb with wild, unpopulated areas that she could explore at her own pace.  She even found a creek!  Ah, bliss!  It began slowly, really an experiment on how long she could go without anyone noticing her absence from the world.  Gradually she spent whole mornings there, even forgetting to bring a snack…time stretched on and on, matching the pace of the insects on the bank.

Eventually her family realized she hadn’t been seen for quite some time; when they finally found her she had begun to grow roots, traces of soft, green moss starting to appear on her north-ward facing cheeks.

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From Isadora:  (


Tears run down my face as I watch my daughter walk down the aisle with her father. She is radiant. A beautiful young woman with jet black hair and creamy skin; her happiness glows all around her. Her father, looking debonair, is a proud man escorting his first born down the aisle.

The church is filled with family and friends. Some of the invited are standing. It’s a small protestant church. The gothic style interior is enchanting and quaint. It was a bit of a compromise for me as I had expected to have the wedding in a catholic church. I had to keep reminding myself that it was her wedding.

I near died when my limousine was one hour late. The first two limousines had left with their passengers yelling out of the moon roofs while flowers waved in the wind. I sat in my empty living room – waiting. It was a solitude I needed. I had been frazzled for so many weeks. Probably, my life frazzled from the first day my daughter brought her intended to my home. I remember thinking when we met: this is a wolf in sheep clothing.

He walked into her life and she walked out of ours. He was a smooth talker. She was an innocent young woman just getting out of a bad relationship. Her heart had been broken by an old fashioned macho man. He was a future doctor in the making but at a price of her losing herself to a submissive life. A broken heart can make you fall in love with another too quickly. She did.

Sitting here in this quiet room, I can remember the day she walked in the door and said she was engaged. She sprinted into my kitchen and made the big reveal of her ring. My knees went weak. Immediately, her father came to mind. He will not be pleased. His first words to me after the first introduction were: this guy is going to be trouble. He was right.

There were always underlying currents in his presence. We felt uneasy. He didn’t seem to care about himself or anything. There was a lazy and sluggish personality. He dressed in clothes that looked like he had slept in them. His hair was greasy and unruly all the time. He was unshaven. Later, he just grew a beard. He said he was lazy about shaving. He was a heavy smoker. It was a habit I detested. He reeked from the evil tobacco. He drank, too.  It was just beer; but all the time. He couldn’t articulate what he did for a living with enough detail for us to understand.  He was lethargic all the time. We worried he would never be motivated.

It was unnerving to give your child away to a man who was like this. We were pleasantly surprised when we met his very successful parents. It gave us hope. It would turn out to be a false one.

Honk! Honk!

I’m startled. The limousine has arrived.

Sitting in the backseat, I feel like I’m on my way to a death chamber.

Cheers at my arrival signal the impatience of the guests. A glorious roar disturbs the silence as I walk down the aisle to take my proud mothers’ spot.

The pomp and circumstance begins to play. I turn and see my sweet child wrapped in her fathers’ hold. A safe place she will never want again. Her life will be forever changed with a man who could not be more than a sloth. Our hearts are broken and sadly lost.

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From Lorna: (

Tick Tock: An Exploration of Sloth

Tick tock. Tick tock.

he didn’t have to open her eyes to know the sun was fully awake, Another day began without her.

“Not again,” she mumbled into her pillow as she slowly shifted her body—her slim but shapely body that felt like she put on 100 pounds over night. The sheets felt cool where she plopped her heavy arms and edged her leaden legs.

“Hmmm,” she purred as she relished the refreshing feeling. But still she languished, a lonely princess in her king-sized bed.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

She knew people were waiting for her. Again. She knew they thought she was being petulant and difficult—making they wait because she could, because they let her. If only they knew.

The sheets, once so cool, felt warm against her body. She struggled to move her dense, obstinate body to find a place where her sheets would cool her. Maybe they would motivate her to get up, shower, and face all the Watchers. “No, I need to rest. If only they …”

She drifted off to sleep hearing only the sound of her heavy sighs and the tick tock of the antique wall clock in her bedroom. It was the only clock in her home. She hated modern alarm clocks with their obnoxious bright lights, confusing controls, and incessant need to startle a soul from precious rest.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

“What?” Some unseen hand nudged her awake. She tried to lift her head off her pillow. The same invisible hand must have been holding her head down. Moving was an act of courage she couldn’t muster. So she lazed in her big bed and felt as small as the little girl she really was, immobilized by the choices she made and the ones she let others make for her.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Brrring…Brrring. Brrring…Brrring. Brrring…Brrring.  The telephone snapped her out of her thoughts.

She labored to grab the phone. The receiver fell out of her hands and banged into the mahogany nightstand. “Shit!” She heaved her stubborn body over the edge of the bed to retrieve the receiver. “Hello?”

“Are you alright? Everyone is here. You’re really late. Do you need me to send someone over?

“N…n…no. I’m fine. I had another bad night. Couldn’t sleep until almost dawn. Then I finally fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

“Should we just cancel for today or can you get yourself together?”

Tick tock. Tick tock.

“Did you hear me? Should we cancel for today? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, sure. I’m fine. I feel much better now. I’m even sitting up. That’s a big improvement from just a few minutes ago.” That trademark charm in her voice appeared on cue.

“Yeah, Baby. You sound better already.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, Honey, anything.”

“Why does sleep only find me when I’m supposed to be awake?”

“Aw, Baby, how am I supposed to know? Now get that money-maker out of bed and do what you do best.”

“Sure thing.” She hung up the phone after several failed attempts to place the receiver in the cradle properly because she was still lying on her stomach. Fighting to sit up, she took several deep breaths. Even the air felt thick as glue and hard to breathe. “Maybe just a few more minutes…” She rested her head her pillow.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

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Hurry up and finish that draft you’ve been working on.  What?  You haven’t even started?  Well, this is “Sloth”, so that figures….

Deadline is Thursday, midnight.  Just a gentle reminder.



Filed under 7 Deadly Sins Writing Contest

12 responses to “Sloth – Post 1

  1. That’s some incredible writing!

  2. Looks like were are off to an impressive but slow start. What are those other slothful writers out there waiting for? 😉

  3. Katy, not to be sloth-ful, but your date says June 28th (Thursday) deadline, but on this post you mention Tuesday. Just wanted clarification, ma’am.

  4. Great start again – lots of fine writing to be had here! Sorry about your computer problems. I had all kinds of problems last week and ended up having to switch from Internet Explorer to Firefox. Hassle.

  5. A good start K8edid.

  6. Btw, how did you make the submission box.

    • Damned if I can remember…seems like I went to the support forum and looked up “contact box” or comment or some such, then made a widget and put it on the side there. When I get home I’ll do some research and see if I can recreate the sequence for you…

  7. So far, I see two others here with fabulous potential. I am impressed with he different apporaches to the same subject. I like that. Can’t wait to read the others. ~~~~ : – )
    I wanted to comment on K.L. Richardson’d blog but can’t find the submission on there. GREAT story K.L.
    Keep up the good work Katie.

    • Sometimes she puts her entries up on her page…I’ve started e-mailing the authors to let them know when their stories will be posted in case they want to put them on their blog for comments…hers was good – they all are.

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