Tag Archives: Seven Deadly Sins

Seven Deadly Sins Series – Pride/Vanity

Sculpture: Deadly Sins (Snowglobes): Pride, Pu...

Sculpture: Deadly Sins (Snowglobes): Pride, Pure Products USA, by Nora Ligorano and Marshall Reese, Eyebeam Open Studios Fall 2009 / 20091023.10D.55559.P1.L1.SQ / SML (Photo credit: See-ming Lee 李思明 SML)

Hey – It’s Baaaaaaaaack.  The Seven Deadly Sins Series.  A simple little writing competition, or the Dave and Lorna Show as it is affectionately called.

Simple contest – simple rules – see the guidelines over to the right.  Right there.

Some sources list “Pride”; some list “Vanity”.  You may use either or both.  Hey, it’s your entry…

I’m going to start writing my entry (which won’t be entered into the contest) tomorrow.  I hope to see your entry soon.  I’ll post the entries in batches as they are received.  Voting is done by an elite panel of judges, in conjunction with the submitting authors (judging by peers).  It really is a lot of fun.

Come on, take a stab at it!!!

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Lust: The Winner is…

 

Lust

Lust (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Despite my best efforts to laze about – using “recovering from surgery” as an excuse – I find I must re-enter the world of productivity – kicking and screaming all the way.  I’ll be returning to work in less than 10 days, and I find myself wondering how I ever managed to exercise, commute, teach, plan, write, blog, snuggle my pup, and occasionally speak to my spouse each day.

It is all I can do to wander from the desk to the sofa, to the table to the desk, to the sofa, to the table…you get my drift.  I keep discovering posts I missed while either under the influence of powerful drugs or snoozing the days and nights away.  I’m trying to catch up.

The deadline for voting in the “Lust” Round of the 7 Deadly Sins writing contest was noon on Saturday and the winner is:  Lorna from Lorna’s Voice.  Her entry:  I Want, I Need You, I Love You” was spectacular.  Congratulations.  Once again – a donation will be made to the charitable organization of Lorna’s choice and her name will be placed in the Wall of Fame over on the left of this blog.

I have to say that I was more than impressed with the quality of the entries.  The voting (for finalists) was extremely close.  This contest has been so much fun and I appreciate all of you who participated.

So, at some point in the near future I’ll resurrect the submission box and prepare the next round…for now – I must move to the sofa…

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Lust – Post 2

Yes, folks, it’s time for another heaping helpin’ of lusty goodness.  Grab that coffee, put your feet up (the boss won’t mind) and lose yourself in these fine fictional fabrications.

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First up, from Audrey from Dangerously Daydreaming:

Supply and Demand

 It’s all about supply and demand.  So here’s to another day in hell.  Imagine waking up in a drugged stupor every day.  Never knowing exactly where you are.  And forget crying out for help.  The weak don’t survive here, but neither do the strong.  This is my life now.  And it started so innocently.

I needed a job, desperately.  Since the downturn of the economy I hadn’t been able to find steady work.  Then I saw it, an ad for a tour guide program.  It was everything I dreamed of and hoped for.  They were looking for young women who wanted to travel the world, work with people, make great money doing it, and would be willing to learn foreign languages.  I was in.

When I went in for the interview I knew something was wrong.  Intuition, premonition, whatever you want to call it.  The interviewer was smarmy with his oiled hair, reaking of cologne, and sitting too arrogantly in his Italian-made suit.  He told me to sit down, asked about my family, my past, nothing about my job history.  A few minutes later some thugs ran up and threw a bag over my head until I passed out.

That how I got here, but that’s not the worst part.  The awful truth is why I’m here, drugged into oblivion, locked up like an animal.

The “customers” come at night.  The pay up, use us, abuse us, and walk away.  I’m part of a multi-billion dollar industry that profits off of using my body to satisfy someone else’s carnal urges.  Supply and demand.  The people who keep me here are no worse than the people who pay to use me.

I’m a slave and I’m waiting for death to bring me freedom.

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From Isadora at insidethemindofisadora: (Click here to view and comment on Izzy’s blog)

“Ruby”

Her name was Ruby. She loathed it. The color a deep red; deep as the wounds she carried with her. She was tired of being told it was a strong color. The only thing she felt strongly about was her anger and resentment for her mother. A prostitute who wore red because the men she accompanied prized the color. Was this a joke she was playing on her? Ruby means nothing to me. It’s blood color; a sign of death. A death, I would take pleasure in.

The doorbell rings.

Flowers from my Tom arrive.

Oh no, red roses.

He’s sent dozens of them. Angrily, I grab for the attached card.

It reads –

“Ruby, my delicate red rose. Scatter these petals towards and upon your golden bed.  I want nothing more than to smell the fragrance of you lying upon them. Your white satin gown against the red roses will captivate my eyes with a glow that will leave me blind with shameless immoral want. I will devour every tiny part of your skin. There, you will tremble, as I approach to bring you to heights that only I can bring you to. Ravenous for your body, I will gently show you my heated desires. Quivering, you will beg for more. I will never let you long for more. It will be a night you will want to remember forever but, perhaps, will have no more”.

A glow covered Ruby’s body. She felt something for Tom. It was so hard for her to give into her feelings. Men were users. They had evil and salacious needs. Her Mother showed her that. All of those men had been eyeing her since she was young. They all made her feel like a piece of meat. Her Mother was their prize catch, not her. She hated them; she hated them all.

But, now, here was Tom. Yes, he was 15 years her senior. She liked the idea of his greying temples. She didn’t mind when he showed her his fatherly caring ways. They had not been intimate yet. She had wondered why. Then, she put it out of her head. After all, wasn’t that what she had wanted; a man who would respect her. But – tonight seems different. His instruction for the red roses was very specific. The notecard with the flowers was very erotic. It felt lurid and scandalous all at once. Tom – my quiet and gentle Tom – was making lustful commentaries. It felt odd; yet, flattering. Ruby felt sensual but distressed.

I have to relax.

A bath – yes – a bath.  She thought.

It will help me relax.

Ruby grabbed her glass of white wine and drew a foam-covered bubble bath for herself. As she soaked, she melted into the hot water. Her thoughts went to the evening ahead. Her body quivered as she thought of his intense longing. Ruby was starting to feel an unbridled sexual desire.

Toweling dry, she could feel her skin glow with coveting abandon. Her satin white gown against her skin felt luxurious. As she lied upon the red roses she let herself feel free.

In her dreamy smolder, she felt Tom lie upon her.

How did he get in? She thought.

His lips offered amnesia. She let herself feel him ravage her. She was free.

In the radiance of their burning longing; they lay. Ruby was floating with feelings she never thought she would have had.

Then, she felt a sharp knife in her heart. She opened her eyes and there he stood with the bloodied knife above her.

Oh, Tom.

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And from Peg at Peg-o-Leg.

There’s No Accounting For Lust

Kat wiped her sweating palms on her skirt and gripped the steering wheel, hard. She drove the car mindlessly, thoughts turned to the coming meeting.  It had been a week since she’d seen him.

Her body flooded with sensation, arousal fighting with guilt.  She should not be doing this. Her husband, Eric, was perfect by anyone’s standards.  Successful, affectionate and as handsome as she was beautiful.

She wasn’t bragging; her beauty was a physical fact, like being left-handed.  The handsome prince and the beautiful princess married and lived happily ever after.  Or at least 13 years worth of ever after.  Then, six months ago she had met him.  Her lover.

Eric thought she had yoga class on Friday afternoons.  But after she dropped her son Jason’s duffel bag at school, she would rush to meet the man who now filled most of her dreams.

Her main regret was that Jason would be hurt when they killed his father.

They were lying in one another’s arms, passion spent when he first suggested it.  “Katarina.” He began, idly stroking her back. Everyone called her Kat but him. He always used her full name, growled in a way that made her melt.

“I cannot share you with him.” Her lover continued, “We must do something.”

She had been shocked at first, but such was his hold over her that the idea had taken root and now seemed inevitable. Nobody made her feel like he did.  Eric must die so they could be together.

Kat pulled into the school parking lot.  Classes were over for the day and just a few cars remained as the staff wrapped up.

She walked briskly to Jason’s locker, duffel bag in hand.  It had been her idea to drop it off so he wouldn’t have to lug both bag and backpack on the bus on Fridays.

As she approached the front door the principal, Mr. Janowicz, came out of his office. He smiled at her approach and said “Good afternoon, Mrs. Henderson.”  His deep voice had a faint Polish accent and his slight bow was a courtly gesture from another era. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I brought Jason’s bag to him.” she explained, gesturing to the backpack in her hand. “It’s his usual Friday night sleepover at Aaron’s after basketball practice.”

“Ah.” Mr. Janowicz smiled.

A teacher walked by them on her way to the front door. “Goodnight Miss Cuthbert.” the principal said and Kat took the opportunity to study him surreptitiously.

He was a slight man, slender and only about an inch taller than she.  His sandy colored hair was already starting to recede.  He was altogether ordinary looking, unless one took the time to look past the thick glasses.  His bright blue eyes were keenly intelligent.

“May I trouble you for a moment, Mrs. Henderson?  There is a matter I wish to discuss.”  The principal gestured toward the open door to his office.  Kat smiled her acceptance and preceded him into the room.  Her glance took in the decor with its guest chairs, long couch and wide windows, now shaded against the afternoon sun.

She stood before his desk and heard the door close behind her, then the soft snick of the lock being turned.  She tensed at the sound, sensing Mr. Janowicz approaching behind her. She did not turn around.

It seemed ages but it was mere seconds. She felt more than heard his low growl on the back of her neck. “Katarina.”

A faint quiver ran along her spine and her head fell back, heavy on his shoulder.

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Whew, is it hot in here, or am I Fifty Shades of Menopausal?

If you haven’t submitted your entry – please do.  We all love reading them – and you might just win this round…

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Sloth – Post 4

Looks like MJ is hanging out here alone, today…

Here is the final entry in the Seven Deadly Sins Series:

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Inertia
By MJ Monaghan

Jason sped down the busy street as he ran his normal 10-mile route through the small beach town. The salt air refreshed and invigorated him. Back in the apartment his roommate Paul was debating what to do. His head churned with lists full of things to do, and unfinished projects waiting for completion.

Paul continued to be amazed by Jason’s perseverance. He had way more on his plate than Paul, but he still managed to get almost everything done on a daily basis. And Jason didn’t just “do things.” He did them all successfully. He ran 10 marathons in a year, each time bettering the last. College was completed in three and a half years. The 1968 Mustang “project car” his dad gave him – he restored it in a summer.

This of course drove Paul totally crazy, wondering why he couldn’t get anything accomplished.

***
Paul stayed up past 2 am every night, and slept through the entire morning.

His day started slowly between 12:30 and 1 in the afternoon. Paul would flip on the television and just “catch a quick half hour of news.” That was followed by watching an hour of Law and Order. Before he knew it, it was 4 pm.

Paul continued to beat himself up. He pondered:

How many stones could the Egyptians have moved in the time I’ve wasted? How far would Hannibal have marched?

What if Leonardo Da Vinci or Michelangelo cruised through life without any dedication to making the most of their time? What would we have? Utter rubbish.

***

Momentum, inertia – two words Paul kept hearing in his stuck mind. He needed a push, an event that could get him out of this funk. But days turned into weeks, and then months. Paul built up piles of wasted time.

It was an act of desperation.

Jason didn’t know what hit him. Didn’t know that his words …

As Jason finished up his afternoon run, he entered the apartment, and explained to Paul how great he felt, and what he would be doing that afternoon.

Muscles twitched as Paul picked up the frame holding Jason’s college diploma. Blood erupted from Jason’s head as he fell to the ground.

No pulse. Jason was dead.

***

In a way, Paul was finally happy. He would have 25 years-to-life to think about what he would do each day, and not have to worry about whether he got it done, or not.

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Whew…This was a bloody round, for the most part.

My stalwart judges will get back to you with the list of finalists.  Stay tuned.

 

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Sloth – Post 3

Pieter Bruegel the Elder: The Seven Deadly Sin...

Pieter Bruegel the Elder: The Seven Deadly Sins or the Seven Vices – Sloth (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Last day to submit your entry!

Here are some more entries for your enjoyment:

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From shalvika :

The Beautiful Bride

She was old and battered by the difficult life she’d had. After all, bringing a child all by herself was not an easy deal. Now that her son was all grown up, she’d decided to finally live for herself. She’d decided to get married. Not for romance or making kids or going on vacations. Just for companionship.

She knew she needed to look a little better for W-day, 10th June. She looked fat and old and ugly right now. The advertisement on TeleBrands looked luring. No workouts, no diets. “Pop some tabs and lose your flab”, the ad went. She was too lazy to do anything anyway.

Her first visit to the doctor was a little disappointing. She felt he was too uninterested in her. She needed results, needed to look good, pronto. She tried to convince him of the same and he kept telling her he knew what he was doing.

The treatment began. She was supposed to take a pill every three hours. She started feeling better in the first couple of days itself. She looked better and her dream of finally fitting into the white wedding dress seemed quite achievable. In her ecstasy, she overlooked the fact that she was taking a pill every two hours. The pills just made her feel better, alive, young. She felt her days were more eventful. More than anything else, for the first time in years, she felt comfortable with what she was. And she wanted that feel to last, she wanted it to sustain. She kept on thinking that more pills would make her look better quickly. And she didn’t even realize that she was popping one pill an hour.

She knew she was spending too much on the pills. But, what the hell, she had to look better. She didn’t do anything except watch TV, dream of looking good and pop the pills. She was growing better looking, she knew. And she was ecstatic. She would look at herself in the mirror for hours together picturing herself in the white dress and make-up. She knew she was gonna look beautiful.

She stopped eating, she stopped stepping out of the house, she stopped talking to her son or her fiancé on the phone. All she did all day long was dream of being beautiful and pop the pills. She would sometimes talk to herself for hours, sometimes explain to her dead husband why she had to look beautiful and sometimes just go back to being sixteen in her father’s home. No one knew what was going on with her.

And finally, the W-day arrived. She woke up early. Took a long shower. Took her time with the makeup, her dress. She put on the finest perfume she had. And just sat there, staring at the beautiful bride. And she knew then that her dream had come true.

News article in the Times, 11th June:  Woman dies of drug overdose

A 56-year-old woman was found dead yesterday by her son in her apartment due to drug overdose. It was her wedding day yesterday. When her son went to pick her up, she was lying on the dresser, with excessive red makeup and a filthy white wedding dress. An excessive supply of  the banned drug XXX was found in her apartment. The source of the large amount of narcotic is still unknown. According to a police report, the woman must have been an addict for a long time now. Source: Reuters.

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From Pete at breakitdownpete:

You want some fries with that order! Shit what am I doing? Why was stricken with the deadly sin of SLOTH! Mom, Dad did you have to be so lazy, sluggish of mind? Why did you allow me to become so complacent. 23 and flipping burgers and I cant see ahead 6 months into my future for I am infested with Sloth. I needed you to push me, to instill some discipline, not to be my friend. I needed you to kick me out of bed and not kiss me on the forehead and believe my I’m sick story. Day after day I missed school and day after day you offered me money with out teaching me how to handle it or work for it, how to manage it. Day after day you cooked my meals, did my laundry and forgave my chorse while Sloth raced through my heart, mind and soul. Now I Ha….. I’m sorry sir that was a large fry right sir! Man I can’t wait to get off from work I have to get home micro wave that tv dinner finish that battle on xbox and take a nap! THANKS MOM AND DAD!

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And from Audrey at Dangerously Daydreaming:

The Big Kid

Joey woke up sore, feeling like he’d been run over by a dump truck.  Falling off a jet-ski at 25 mph can do that to you.  He felt a tinge of guilt about running the jet-ski into the dock but only the fiberglass edge was damaged really.  And besides, the jet-skis belonged to a friend with WAY more money than he would ever have.  “It was fine.”

Splayed across his bed, Joey could hear his grandma calling for him.  It was almost noon.  He remembered when her health first started failing years ago.  It started with a bad fall and broken femur, and just went downhill from there.  Now she required constant care around the clock and Joey had stepped in to do it, partly because he couldn’t seem to hold down a regular job and partly because it freed him to go out a play more.  More time on dirt bikes, more time grinding rails on his skateboard, and now that summer was here more time to jet-ski on the lake.  He was free with few responsibilities, plenty of time to goof off.  But grandma was yelling for him to come downstairs again.  Another moment of waiting wouldn’t kill her he thought as he rolled to his side.

For a while he had tried to work and attend college, but it was just too hard, everything was hard.  Nevermind that most of his classmates managed to do it, he just ended up too distracted by awesome things to do.  The one job he’d kept for more than a year had fired him after a few months of showing up an hour late each shift.  He’d seen it coming.  But it was so hard to get up in the mornings.  He moved back in with his parents.  His mom said he was lazy, but she welcomed him back with open arms.  There was grandma calling again, and he couldn’t imagine what her rush was this morning.

Anway, not long after that job went down the tube, Joey started caring for his grandmother.  His grades in college plummeted.  Again, he didn’t have enough time in the day to get his epic play time in, watch out for his grandma, and study.  “It’s just harder for me than it is for other people.”  Thankfully, taking care of grandma was an easy gig.  She slept in until the afternoon which worked great for him, they would watch tv all day, and once his mom came home from her job, he would hand grandma off to her and play for the rest of the day.  It was a good deal.  One day grandma would pass away and leave him a hefty inheritance anyway, so who needed a job?  The old lady probably had millions saved away.  Which reminded him, he’d probably better get out of bed now and see what she wanted.

As he padded down the stairs he noticed the stillness of the house.  Even the dogs hadn’t come running up to greet him.  “Gram…” he yelled unfinished as he opened her bedroom door.  Her still form lay awkwardly prone on the floor just beyond the bathroom entry.

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