Seven | A Short Story

Seven

"Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Wilde. You have no idea how much it meant to me," chirped the young woman in front of me as she shook my hand as if I were the president of the country. "I have always dreamed of being a writer, and you are, indeed, my biggest inspiration."

"It's always a pleasure to meet one of my readers." It was true. My readers were the root of my success; I owed them everything. "I'm certain that one day, you will be a great writer, and I will be proud to read one of your books." I felt ecstatic to know that my work was leaving a positive impact.

For me, being a writer was more than pouring art on paper. Writers were like therapists for their words could contain more healing medicine than all the drugs created by a man. Words were a metaphor for dreams. They could be fine wine, soft music, and a shelter in the toughest of storms. They could weave love, they could bring a cleansing rain of hope, and they could be so sublime as to last till the end of time.

Believing that the pen was mightier than any sword, I vowed to only write what would always help people see the light at the end of the tunnel...

A knock on my door forced my train of thought to a stop.

My assistant leaned into the office, poking her head through the partly opened door. "Mr. Wilde, there's another person outside who requests to see you."

"Bring them in. I'm not feeling worn out yet," I said to her with a slight smile.

A minute later, a young woman joined me in the office. The second she stepped inside, the light above us flickered, and we were cast into a brief spell of darkness that lasted for mere seconds; however, when the light returned to normal, I felt as if something has changed but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Brushing the thought away, I stood up to meet my guest. "I apologize for that. My long hours of locking myself up inside this office have clearly taken their toll on the light bulbs."

"Don't worry about it." She grinned, revealing a set of perfect teeth as she approached my desk. She extended her hands out for me to shake. "Mr. Wilde, it's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jezebeth; you can call me Beth."

A rush of coldness passed over me when I put my hand in hers. Perhaps the air conditioner was set a little too low.

"The pleasure is all mine." I smiled and gestured for her to take a seat. "So, how can I help you, Beth? Do you want to discuss the new book with me, or would you like a signature?"

Her hazel eyes lit up as she shook her head with sheer excitement. "Neither. I actually have an idea for you. I guarantee you, it's going to be your next bestseller."

I had to admit that I was taken aback. This was the first time someone had ever come to me with an idea for a book. "I'm all ears." I flashed her a grin.

One side of her lips tilted upward in a smirk as she tucked a strand of her cinnamon hair behind her ear and leaned across the desk. The aroma of her fragrance overwhelmed my sense of smell. It had a heavy herbal scent; however, I couldn't tie it to anything I was familiar with.

"Have you ever watched the movie Seven?" she asked in almost a whisper.

Her question threw me off guard, but I shrugged it off. "Yes, that movie is a classic. It's about the serial killer that targets people who represent the seven deadly sins."

She clapped her hands like a child in a candy store and beamed. "Exactly." She then fixed her eyes on me; the smile was all gone. Sudden seriousness was written all over her expressions as she continued. "My idea for you is about a demon who came out of the depth of hell to wreak havoc on the mortal world. An unfortunate human stroke his path, and for his pleasure, the demon decided to turn that human into his little puppet. The human's soul got possessed by the demon, and the only way they could get their freedom back is by killing seven people—each represents one of the seven virtues."

My eyebrows were brought together in a frown. "The seven virtues?"

"They are opposite to the seven sins," she explained. "Humility against pride. Kindness against envy. Abstinence against gluttony. Chastity against lust. Patience against anger. Liberality against greed. And diligence against sloth."

Thinking about it, it seemed like a great and unique idea. "It sounds really good," I exclaimed. "And don't you worry. Your name will be next to mine if I ever decide to use it."

Her eyes narrowed to a squint, and her lips pursed in a thin line. "You're so humble, Mr. Wilde."

Appeased by the compliment, I smiled. "What I do might be good, but other people do great things too. Being humble isn't about being low or feeling that way. It's about feeling good and lifting others up to the same level in your heart and brain."

I watched as she shook her head, her gaze fixed on the ground. "What I'm about to do almost aches my heart. You are a good man, Jonathan Wilde. An epitome of humility."

My mind stuttered for a part of a second before a wretched gasp escaped my lips. My blood ran cold and I felt that that air was sucked out of my lungs.

My eyes were as wide as they could be as I watched her features change. Her eyes turned to be nothing but black, and her mouth stretched wide, revealing rows of teeth that looked more like sharp daggers. Instead of her nails were long claws that would indeed be able to shred a person into little tiny pieces.

The realization hit me like a freight train. What she told me was never a story.

And I realized that soon, I was going to be one of the seven victims.