Pride
I had just finished a sword for the king and it was the most beautiful sword I had ever created. I went over to the baker's shop with my sword to boast about the wonderful craftsmanship. The handle was carved with intricate designs and studded with jewels. A sword like this would sell for as much gold as I got in a year, but alas, I was paid poorly with only a pouch for my hard work. I should not speak this way and be ungrateful, for questioning the king is an act of treason. I still wish that I had gotten more for the days of backbreaking work that I put into this sword. The blade is the sharpest in the land, filed down to a very fine point. This sword is the height of my career as a blacksmith.
As I was about to walk into the Baker Randall's shop, I remembered the what The Pope said about the Seven Deadly Sins; Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Anger, and Sloth. I think to myself, "Pride isn't that deadly. I don't have to go to confession. They don't know what I am thinking. I can get away with it." But then methinks, "God knows. The church says that God knows yer thoughts and you'd have to be a fool to think he isn't watchin' ya."
When I think this, I start shakin' with fear of goin' to Hell. I saw a picture of it in Notre Dame cathedral when I went on a pilgrimage. It was the first time I had ever been out of my town. The only way I hear of news is the when the Town Crier comes every now-and-again. The Town Crier comed more often than he does now, what with the invention of the printing press by old Johannes, but I still haven't learnt how to read.
Anyway, when I saw that painting, I about ran out of there for fear of Hell. There were demons ripping people apart and people eatin' each other while St. Peter was up at them 'Pearly Gates' with a key in his hand, lettin' all the pure souls in while the people in Hell were gettin' torn to pieces.
With those thoughts in mind, I turned around and ran all the way back to my shop. I set down the sword, picked up my bag of gold from the king, and raced to the church. I paid my pouch of gold and confessed to the priest that I was prideful. I walked out of that church feeling like a new man (with a pouch less gold.)
The End
