This week’s terribleminds story queue (love that word!) is all about the seven deadly sins. The prompt said to pick one and get those 1,000 words– why pick one, when you can have them all?! Woo OVERACHIEVERS. Here’s my story, “Sins.”

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“Sins”

Sins. She collected them like rings on her fingers—glittery, shiny things that she reveled in playing with. It was almost a contest; how many could she rack up in a single day? She alone was the competitor—she alone was the constant victor.

“So,” a man’s meek voice broke through her thoughts, “are you willing to meet me?”

She toyed with the deep green gem that nestled itself against a silver band around her middle finger. “Yeah, sure. I’m always willing to dance with the devil.”

The man coughed into the phone, clearing his throat several times. “Good. See you at 7.”

She tapped the phone’s screen with a jet black fingernail. “Sounds like a fucking square, playing at bad boy.”

A cat’s meow was the only reply.

“You’re one to talk, Bartleby. You’re a square, too.”

The tricolored tabby cat looked at her, bored, before jumping from a busted leather couch to the kitchen counter. A chill made its way through her loft, making both the cat and her skin prickle slightly. She ran elongated fingers over its fur, nuzzling her nose against his. “But you’re my square, right?”

Red lips? Check. Baubles and leather? Check. A wicked, feral grin and dress to match. She was ready for the game.

“You’d make cool, shiver,” said a man’s voice.

She turned, her black moto jacket scraping against the restaurant’s glass pane, the resulting noise a long, awkward sheeeeeeeeeaaaaaaak.

“That I could,” she smiled, standing taller. “You must be Mr. Miles.”

“Everyone calls me Tom.”

“Well Tom,” she said, flourishing the restaurant’s door open, “shall we?”

It took them no time to get a table; Tom seemed to know everyone in the place. The waiters and waitresses seemed to float passed like angels, their white-on-white attire a turnoff for her. Tom made himself comfortable, adjusting the black suit jacket that stood in contrast to a nearly neon blue shirt. She took him in; medium height and build. Soft brown hair, tropical blue eyes.

“So,” he began as a waiter poured two glasses of deep red wine, “Camden. Tell me more about you.”

She wondered when the waiter had been prompted. “Just Cam. What’s left to say? Musician, lover of coffee and dogs, owner of one mangy cat. In the business for all the wrong reasons.”

Her smile was like fire and ice.

“Is that your story?”

Cam’s lip crinkled upwards. “What? Okay, what if I said I’m Aphrodite, most beautiful and badass bitch goddess out there, happen to also be the god of death, maybe even a circus performer, and still owner of one mangy cat?”

Tom laughed into his drink, the sound much larger than it should have been. “Then I’d definitely have to question your motives. And I’d have to say you’re quite the storyteller.”

“I’m always me, which always happens to be what guys like you want.” She flourished a pointed finger at him.

“Oh,” he said, swirling his drink. His presence seemed to be looming over the entire restaurant. “I’m not looking for Aphrodite. I already know her.”

Cam sat back against the too-cushy chair, folding her arms against a sudden chill. “Does she have a friend named Cinnamon?”

Another laugh. “The last time someone snubbed Aphrodite, she got turned into a bush. I wouldn’t continue if I were you.”

Nervous now, Cam pushed away from the table. “Look, I dunno what kind of bullshit game you’re trying to play, but I’m out. Have a life.”

“Camden, wait.”

Lights flickered in their sockets at her name. Oblivious wait staff brought bread and two meals to their table. Shrimp alfredo steamed before her, its sauce bubbling, while steak diablo sat before him.

“The fuck? I didn’t order,” she hesitated, holding onto her slick facade. “Neither did you. Do you do this so often that they know by heart?”

Blue eyes pierced her. “Do you?”

“’Kay, again, fuck off. Bye.” She grabbed her jacket, shrugging it over bare shoulders, pulling her straight, aqua-colored hair from beneath it.

“You carry all the sins.” His voice was calm, smooth.

Cam turned, her head rolling back as hard as her eyes. “You a religious man? Hmm? Gonna lecture me about sex, drugs, rock and roll? You people are always mad that people like me live our lives.”

“I’m the religious man.”

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I know Aphrodite. And Aine. Hermes. Ares. Amaterasu. I know them all. I’ve been them all.”

The building itself shuddered.

“I’m leaving.”

“You haven’t left yet.”

“Watch me,” she said with a sneer.

The further she walked, the further away the front doors seemed. Darkness clouded the windows. “What the,” she whispered, almost afraid.

“I know you carry every sin in you. Lust. Greed. Envy. Pride. Gluttony. Sloth. Wrath—“

“I get it man. Heard the damn list before.”

“You do the things you do to consume the sins of others. Maybe if you carry them all, the world can be saved.”

“I don’t give a damn about saving the world,” she said, her voice an angry hiss. She reached for her cell. Its screen read NO SERVICE in giant white letters. “What do you want from me?! Let me outta here!” Her voice was a now panicked, hoarse scream.

“Make a deal with me, and I’ll let you go.”

Cam turned back to the table. Tom sat in the same place, waiting, his face changed and unfamiliar. A bronzed man, his eyes electric. Still, she walked back, slumping down in the chair. Where else could she go? She propped her head up onto her palm.

“A deal with the devil. Great.”

“You misunderstand me, Camden. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m God, and I want you to work for me.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, her lipstick framing bared teeth. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

*****

Hope you guys enjoyed this story! Something a little different for me. I dig Camden though- may have to expand on this one. What do you guys think?

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