These are my stories based on the Seven Deadly Sins. They are drabbles which are exactly one hundred words long and I really liked working within such a strict discipline.
My grandson set up my new computer a month ago and today I received my first email. It is from a Nigerian gentleman representing a royal personage who is in a financial predicament. He has been exiled from his country but has a great deal of money in a bank account he can no longer access. For a sum of money to “grease palms”, I will be given a share of the fortune. It may well be illegal but, as a lone pensioner managing on a meagre income of £250,000 per annum, one has to make up the shortfall oneself.
Standing with his hands on his hips, Norman regarded his vegetable patch with great satisfaction. There was no doubt that he would win best in show again at the Little Molesley village fete. A sparkling summer’s day greeted Norman as he left home early to set up. Afterwards he looked at his competitors’ offerings, none of which were as large or succulent as his, except one. He peered at the name and fear clutched at him. He was going to be beaten by Marjorie Evans, newcomer to the village and winner of the regional WI best in show twelve times.
Twin girls were born, named Charlotte and Ann. They weren’t identical and it soon became clear that Charlotte was prettier and more petite than her sister so she quickly became her parents’ favourite. Without this affection, Ann grew bitter and failed to thrive, eclipsed by her cleverer, sportier and more perfect sibling. Not able to compete, Ann started hanging around with the other misfits, smoking and taking drugs. She screwed anyone who would have her, seeking love and acceptance that couldn’t be found at home. Finally, at fifteen, Ann left for London and her family breathed a sigh of relief.
As Liam’s gaze lingered on her pert breasts he realised he’d stopped breathing. Graceful and lithe with creamy skin and delicate features, she was perfect. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and must be his. He quickly calculated if he could afford her. Business had been very quiet recently and finances were a bit tight. But what was he thinking? She had to be in his life and he’d eat beans on toast every night for six months to make it happen. He slapped his credit card on the counter and bought the exquisite Art Deco figurine.
Mel deflated as she read the invitation. Suzy was having her birthday party at the Floating Dragon, a Chinese restaurant famed for its mouth-watering “All you can eat buffet”. Her diet was going badly enough without the temptation of endless supplies of egg fried rice, beef in black bean sauce and, her favourite, sweet and sour pork. Why couldn’t Suzy have chosen that new sushi restaurant with lovely, healthy parcels of fish, seaweed and rice? Mel could only stop eating when all the food was gone but, she thought with a wry smile, at least she’d get her money’s worth.
Barney woke briefly, yawned, stretched, shielded his eyes from the sunlight, rolled over and then went back to sleep. Some hours later, he woke again and lay for some considerable time debating whether or not to get up. He decided against it and went back to sleep. Even later still, he woke up again, felt the first pangs of hunger, decided to ignore them and went back to sleep. Finally, he could no longer ignore his stomach so jumped off the bed and went in search of a human who would open a tin of cat food and feed him.
Mike’s mobile phone made a muffled chirrup and Becky rummaged under the sofa cushion where it has slipped. She was about to yell to him when she saw that the name “Mandy” on the display had a heart next to it. She read the text message which was a surprising mix of nauseating lovey-dovey rubbish and hardcore pornography. “Bastard. Stupid bastard.” she hissed. Becky raced to the kitchen, grabbed a jar from the fridge and picked up Mike’s keys. In his car, she carefully poked anchovies into the heating vents, then dropped his keys down the drain and walked away.