Flash Fiction

Seven Deadly Sins

Sloth

Carroll lost her job; it was mostly her own fault. She came home, made a sandwich and sat down to watch corrie. She never got up again.
          They found her just after Christmas. Her mother had refused to feed her or do anything for her anymore. She said she was fed up of the smell. The flesh on Carroll's back and thighs had rotted and intertwined with the sofa. Her tissue mingled and merged with the lace cushions and the once cream coloured throw. Carroll still had one hand resting on the remote. Too tired to move. Too lazy to live.

Pride.

She was so striking when she was young. So incredibly beautiful. Her eyes were wide and glinted with life and colour, with lashes that were unnaturally long and elegant. Her lips were sinfully luscious. Her golden hair fell, untamed in cascading curls down her back. She was covered by a thick mist of sensuality like her everyday scent. Goddess, Godiva. More beautiful than any woman I had ever seen.
          I opened the paper this morning and saw a distorted face staring at me from wide, empty, stagnant eyes. Trout pout and extensions. The elephant woman stood where my Goddess once was.

Lust

He visited there again on Thursday. He said he had a late meeting, massive contract. I knew very well where he was and I thought, 'if that�s the way he likes it'.
          When he got home I appeared at the top o the stairs wearing this sexy litte black neglige and stilleto heals. His jaw dropped. I lead him to bed, he stuttered, I explained nothing. I pushed him down and began to reel off my repetoir and rates. He got all excited, play acting, pulled out his empty wallet and spent the first night of many, alone, on the sofa.

Triceratops