Tag Archives: 7 Deadly Sins writing contest

Lust – Post 4

Well, kids, it’s time for the final installment of the “Lust” entries for the 7 Deadly Sins Series.  This round has had some shizzle with sizzle…don’t you think?  You’re going to love these entries, as well.

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First, I’ll include my non-contest submission:

Broken Hearts

“I won’t forgive you next time” I’d said, hot tears stinging my eyes.  “I can’t.”

“There won’t be a next time” he’d reassured me, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I was stupid.”  He lifted my chin, searching my face, then pulled me close.  “I’m so sorry.  I promise you.  It will not happen again” he’d whispered into my neck.

-/-

That had been a year ago – a stressful year punctuated with health issues, job changes, and a now empty nest. For the sake of our daughter, her senior year of high school, her promising tennis career, and because I was terrified of starting over again at my age – I forgave him.  But I did not, and could not, forget.

I retrieved my car from the long-term lot and headed in the direction of home.  It had been a long week of meetings, presentations, conference calls, networking, glad-handing and schmoozing. I just wanted to take a long, hot shower and lie down in my own bed.  I’d finished a day early, and I needed rest.

I caught a glimpse of a familiar looking red sports car leaving very our very secluded driveway.  My stomach clenched. My hands gripped the steering wheel.  “It couldn’t be” I told myself.  “She wouldn’t dare come to our home.”  I let myself quietly in the front door, my hands shaking.

His cell phone was on the counter, vibrating madly.  I checked it as I headed for the bedroom.  Four voice mail messages, three from me – and a text message – not from me.  “Miss you already.”

“Did you forget something, Shelly?” my husband called out from the bedroom. I picked up speed down the hallway, footsteps pounding. My heart was thudding and my palms sweating.

“Shelly?” he called out the name of our daughter’s tennis coach.  “Is that you?  Did you forget something – or did you come back for more?” His voice was playful.  “That Viagra’s worn off, but I’ve got plenty more.”

I stopped outside the bedroom door.  He was lying on his side in a provocative pose, sheet draped over his pelvis.  On the nightstand stood a champagne bottle, two flutes – one stained with lipstick, and a prescription bottle.

“That’s good to know” I said coolly from the doorway.

“Oh, my God” he gasped when he saw my face. “I didn’t know you were home.”

“Apparently.”

He grabbed the sheet and shot up from the bed.  “I…I can explain.” The color drained from his face.  Sweat droplets appeared on his forehead.

“I seriously doubt that” I said, holding up his cell phone.  “Shelly misses you already – the poor thing”.

“I’m sorry.”

“You certainly are that.”

“It’s just….I…um. Oh, God. Honey, please,” his eyes pleaded.  His color had turned ashen.  He clutched his chest, the sweat began pouring down his face.  He swayed side to side.

“Please?  Please what?” I yelled.  “Please pretend you didn’t just have your mistress in my bed?  Pretend you haven’t broken not only your marriage vows but your promise to me?  Please, what?” I shoved his chest with the cell phone.

He stumbled backward and plopped unceremoniously onto the bed, rubbing his left arm.  His color had not improved – it matched the tousled gray at his temples.  “It’s my heart…call an ambulance.  Please.  Oh, God. I’m begging you.”  He reached toward the nightstand where he kept a bottle of aspirin.  I pushed the drawer shut with my knee.

He pitched forward to the floor, gasping and clutching his chest.  His face contorted in agony.

“It’s time to think about my heart.”

I pocketed his cell phone, locked the front door, and drove away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From MJ at mjmonaghan.com :

DIAMOND DAVE

If Prohibition was the law of the land, then the speakeasy was the law’s biggest ball-buster.

It was 1925 at Manhattan’s “Jack and Charlie’s 21.” Most everyone just called it “21” since it was located at 21 West 52nd Street.

The four dames sauntered into that gin joint like they owned the damn place. All dolled up in “shorts”: short hair, short skirts, and short on virtues – typical flappers.

Every head turned in the place as they made their way down the steps and into the main room in the bar:  From gangsters, and feds on the take – who were giving them the up-and-down – to back-biting women who wished they could throttle the broads (not that they weren’t still giving them the once-over, too, by examining their shoes, dresses, and hairstyles).

Men wanted them – in the biblical way – and women wanted to be them, in spite of hating what they did, and who they were.

No one could deny they were lookers; all from different places. How they became roommates, was anyone’s guess, other than the fact they were young ladies who liked to dance, drink, and carouse:

Meg, was from the Midwest, and because of her long gams was nicknamed Meg-O-Lamb.

Carla was from the tip of the Northeast, somewhere in Maine. It was hard to believe, but even New Yawkuz poked fun at her accent.

Sadie was the tough, no-nonsense leader of the pack. Her nickname on the street was “Sadie-did” – because anytime something bad happened and the question came up about who done it, the response was always “Sadie did.” But no one called her that to her face. They wouldn’t dare. She was tough as nails.

It was rumored that Sadie was from the Midwest, also, but she never talked about it. Something too painful had happened “back there.”

Lastly, there was Jewels. From the time she was a little girl she dreamed of living across the Hudson River from Jersey. Now she was doing it, and in style. Her typical winter outer wear consisted of her trademark, full-length chipmunk fur coat.

On the surface this passel of women was like any other, excepting for the looks and fashion. The quartet seemed kind and caring, but deep down if you tailed them, you’d find the four running interference for bootleggers.

The four were the kind of girls you were glad your sister wasn’t.

Primarily they worked for Dave Moffett. Everyone in Manhattan called him “Diamond Dave” because of the giant, diamond-encrusted pinkie ring he always wore.

Diamond Dave was tied into all manner of criminal activity, but made most of his money on hooch. He hid his rum-running by working for the local rag covering the city beat. Cops knew him, but steered clear since he had them all in his pocket.

He had a weakness, though: He was a big womanizer and couldn’t keep his hands off the dames.

***

That night was like any night. The four girls were there for fun, and to collect their money from Dave. They would always meet in a secluded back room. First Dave would discreetly walk back, and then a few minutes later Meg, Carla, Jewels, and Sadie would make their way to meet him.

As Diamond waited for them, his mind wandered, and he couldn’t get Meg out of his mind. She had flashed him her left leg through the slit in her short skirt that was more like a belt. He always liked her, but now he WANTED to have her; possess her; to make her his.

The door to the private room opened and the four flappers strode in. Diamond Dave was burning like an ember as his eyes fixed on Meg.

“You got the sawbucks?” Jewels asked.

“Yeah; sure thing, girls,” Dave said as he pulled a wad of $10 bills out of his pocket with his right hand.

“Hey, Meg, why don’t you come over this way for a minute?”

Meg moved toward him, and Dave’s fat hand latched on to her left breast. What happened next was a blur.

Instinctively, Meg reached for something to break Diamond Dave’s grip from her body. She fumbled and felt an object behind her, and picked it up and struck him in the head. Blood ran down Dave’s head at the same time his body dropped to the floor with a “thud.”

Meg quickly threw down the weapon – an 18” tall, Empire State Building promotional statuette for the soon-to-be-built skyscraper.

The other three shook Meg so they could get their story straight before the coppers got there.

Sadie-did, Meg-o-Lamb, Carla and Jewels

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And from Jules at gojulesgo.com:

7 Deadly Scenes: Lust

“No! You have to do it like this!”

His laughter is infectious. He grabs the cell phone from my hands and shakes it, showing me how to rearrange the apps on the screen. I grab the phone back and give it an exaggerated wave.

The final weeks in August are dead at the office.

“Is this why these things need protection?” I ask, holding up the phone to reveal its plastic case. “Safe sexting?”

His fit starts anew, and he collapses in his seat, wiping tears away with a single hand.

I can’t take my eyes off his hands.

~*~

“You better hold on tight, spider monkey!”

I throw my head back and laugh. My favorite line in the movie. It’s not supposed to be funny, but it gets me every time.

We’re really pushing the ‘hardly working’ part of the old saying, but Friday afternoon before Labor Day seemed like the perfect time to watch a video projected from my lap top onto the largest screen in the office.

I stop laughing abruptly when I realize his eyes are on me.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious. His gaze is soft, brown and loving.

“Nothing,” he smiles, like he’s seeing me for the first time.

~*~

“And that is why they invented therapy.”

I chuckle, delighted by his secret-sharing.

“…So?” he adds, eyebrows raised.

“So?” I echo, butterflies in my stomach.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I laugh again, relieved, frustrated. I take a sip of my beer, staring at the forest green walls of our favorite after work haunt.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, and my smile fades as I force myself to meet his gaze.

~*~

“You love your husband?”

My hand halts on the car door handle.

“Yes,” I reply quietly, not because it’s the right thing to say, but because it’s the truth.

“Okay,” he says, and walks away, my sudden sobs filling the hot summer air.

~*~

“We should go,” he whispers.

“Or what?” I whisper back, still only a breath away.

I never should have agreed to stop at his place before the meeting.

I reach out a shaking hand and touch his wavy brown hair. It’s thick and soft. Far softer than it should be.

I bet his lips are, too. These thoughts come unbidden. I am used to them now.

“We’re late,” he says. His eyes darken and I drop my hand. We’re not late.

Though I have no right to be, I’m hurt.

“He’d kill us both,” he breathes, his eyes softening.

“No,” I smile ruefully. “Just me.”

~*~

“I don’t know why I’m here.”

He looks helpless, standing in my doorway. He knows my husband is gone for the weekend, on his annual fishing trip.

Something deep inside me explodes.

“Yes you do,” I say, surprised by the raspy wanting in my voice.

He doesn’t respond. At least not in words.

~*~

“I found this.”

I blanch, seeing my phone in my husband’s large hand.

In his other hand rests something equally shiny and silver.

“Didn’t I always tell you what I’d do to you?” He takes a step towards me.

I open my eyes and clutch my heart, breathless. It was only a dream.

This time.

~*~

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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 k8edid2000@hotmail.com.

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: (http://tempisfugit.wordpress.com)

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:  (http://insidethemindofisadora.wordpress.com/2012/6/19/lost/)

“Lost”

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: (http://lornasvoice.wordpress.com/2012/06/21/tick-tock-an-exploration-in-sloth/)

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.

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Anti May Day (Better known as May 31)

English: Pre hispanic statue of two men drinki...

English: Pre hispanic statue of two men drinking mezcal (tequila is a type of mezcal) in the National Museum of Tequila (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, it’s May 31.  May Day is celebrated at the beginning of the month.  Here at Casa K8edid – we celebrate Anti-May Day.

How can you participate?  Well, today is the last day for submitting an entry into the Envy Round of the 7 Deadly Sins Series, so you could spend your day doing that.

It is also the last day to officially partake in the liquor of the month (honoring the month-long celebration of Cinco de Mayo)  – Tequila.  Oh, you can still drink tequila after today.  It just won’t be official and you’ll have to keep the bottle hidden in your desk drawer.

Or you could combine the 2.  Enjoy.

(Is it me or does one of those “men” in the picture have pasties on his nipples?)

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