Seven Sins Committed

7. Sloth

Smoke clouded the air, sending woodland critters fleeing, escaping the flames crackling the grass and branches. Men danced about the woods, singing praises for the lord, dousing the flames with bursts of rain. A doe watched, protecting her fawn, soulful brown eyes observing from afar. She lifted her white flag and bobbed into the green brush, her fawn glued to her side.

Ash piled the grounds, smothering new sprouts trying to grow, becoming Adrienne's vengeance. The stake, black and flickered with red embers remained upright. A black desert, debris flattened the rain. The men solemnly departed, riding white cloaked steeds. Leaving the wreckage, the first priest carried a mound wrapped in bloody blankets over his white stallion. He didn't look behind his shoulder, believing the damage was finally over.

Dampened ash obscured the naked body shifting underneath his bedding of powdery residue. Grime clung to his arms, dusted his legs. He rested on the pile, breathing softly, thought to be dead until he moved. Looking at the scenery, confused, he sat for a while. Numb, the man examined his hands, wondering about the puckered, ropy scars lining his sculpted chest. Feeling his face, his fingers grazed the red cross imprinted in his right cheek. For a while, he sat, regaining his strength. Soon, the man began shivering violently, the frigid air chilling his skin. Finally, on shaking legs like a newborn foal, he stumbled across the burned landscape, stepping in hot embers, uncaring.

The man disappeared inside the woods.

-----------------

Alcohol burned my tongue as I drank, my hand scrawling chicken-scratch handwriting on yellow paper. Hood drooped over my face, I habitually fixed the half-mask concealing the cross marking my cheek. Hunting Priests were the last things I wanted tailing me. The empty glass stained a watered brown rested beside me until the tender filled it to its lip.

"That's the end of the story?" The brown haired girl pouted, swinging her legs back and forth. She rested her hands on her chin.

"Aye," I whisper, snapping the leather book shut. My finger traces the binding stitches, age frayed the ends, but I was reluctant to begin writing inside a new journal.

Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, the girl pressed closer, and I felt her warm skin. "What happened to the ghoul?" She inquired curiously, watching me intensely.

I visibly stiffened. "That remains unknown."

"No fair!" Shoving me light-heartedly, she giggled, toying with me. She reminded me of the two women that ruined my life.

"Farewell," I slide off my bar stool, leaving gold coins on the counter. I tuck my book inside my cloak, quickly leaving the bar. Without sensing her, she follows me, entrapped in my snare. I wanted her to leave.

Entering the shadows of the night, I tugged my hood further over my head, dodging groups of people. Horse drawn carriages trotted past, splashing water onto the cobblestone streets. The girl breathes heavily behind me. I let her catch up, her arms hugged mine.

I move soundlessly, footsteps making not a sound. She asks for my name, and I give her one of many.

The alleyway looms closer; my stomach comes alive, growling. I shrink at the sound, growing smaller, timid.

The girl, Alice, smiles with inviting pink lips.

I try to refuse but she encourages.

I succumb, repeating my desires as I have for thousands of years.

---------

Here, I write of my kills. The journal records my eternal story, willing to share information if someone pried the leather bound cover from my hands. Adrienne named me, gifting new life and power I didn't want. Violetta warmed short years since my turn. The priests renewed humanity inside of me.

I sit and watch, sit and observe, sit and wonder. I do nothing, committing another sin. I no longer count them, they are too numerous.

I, Renwick Connerwall, regret.