Sins

The First of Seven

I have a riddle for you. . .

You may ask who we are, well, we are you. We live in every one of you. You try to hide us away, pretend that we don't exist, but we do. I am one of the most prevalent in you. . . humans. I can bring about the downfall of an empire. I can ruin a relationship. And if I tried hard enough, I could end your world.

Who am I?

Do you have an answer yet, human? Considering you probably don't, let me spare your weak mind and give you the answer.

I am Pride.

I am the oldest of the Seven. Myself, along with the others live separate from you. Not in Hell, certainly not in Heaven, not in Purgatory, but somewhere humans can never set foot. We live in a place called Peccatum.

Peccatum is a vast, almost endless dimension. The sky is a grey blob overhanging the solemn and desolate, ashen landscape. A breeze is consistently blowing, resulting in a bone chilling eeriness that never dissipates. To some, this world is cruel and unforgiving, but for me, it's no different than Earth.

I live on the near the edge of Peccatum, where the chill is particularly prevalent. I sit alone in my immense, but empty mansion. The other creatures of Peccatum, such as pecca which are basically our henchmen who travel to Earth to do our jobs, never seek me out like they do the others. I am alone, and will be alone. . .forever. After all, that is my curse.

The seven of us are powerful and made to be feared, but we all have something that curses us, makes us different from the others. My curse is loneliness. Everyone who I have ever loved or cared for, has left me because I am Pride. It's simple as that. I am the smartest of the seven, but I am the most hated, by humans and pecca that is.

Obviously, the seven of us all look different, but we are all marked by a specific tattoo that identifies what we are, and also marks us with our curse. My mark is located on my back. Between my shoulder blades is my name, Pride, written in large, black cursive letters. Two large and intricately detailed purple roses sit on my shoulders. Their thorny stems curl down my back, branching into their ugly roots spell out my curse, loneliness. Every time I look into the mirror, I am reminded that no one will ever care for me. If my large violet eyes could well up with tears and allow me to cry, I would, but I am Pride, and I can't cry.

People cry because they are weak, I will not show weakness. . .ever. End of discussion. Even in my own house, even though I know that no one is coming to visit me. Everyday I wake up, because unlike angels or demons we need to sleep and eat. Why? I have no idea. I prepare myself for anything. I'll wash and style my charcoal black hair, dress myself in freshly ironed pants and button-up shirt. I attach my grand silver sword, with its sapphire and diamond encrusted hilt to my waist, almost like something important was going to happen, like I was waiting for someone or something. However, every one thousand years, rules are broken and we seven meet up for one week.

Far from the small towns in our world, across the great sea of dimensions that isolate Peccatum from the rest of . . .well everything, lays Earth, your world, and for one beautiful week, we have a competition. On a very small and easily forgotten island that is, during that week, hidden from human view, we seven battle for dominance in your world. Free-will is nothing but a fantasy, it is us as well as our angelic counterparts, whom, for the time being we won't discuss, run your lives. The winner of the competition decides what truly happens in your pitiful little lives. We wait and yearn for our time to come, for the chance to be your ruler.

Guess what human. . .it's been nine-hundred and ninety-nine years and eleven months since the last competition took place. Earth will soon be under new management.