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curtain, a slight movement of shadow, but he brushes it away with
another gulp of beer, erasing his mind with thoughts of a bloated
wallet and the scent of money as dollar bills rain on him, bathing him
in a sea of green. He removes the straw hat and plops it on the boy’s
head, ‘come out and join me when the rain’s stopped, son.’
One loses one’s goals and ambitions in the pursuit of self-indulgence: gluttony.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The boy’s hand rummages through the empty
platters of food beside him before licking the grease and crumbs off
his fingers. ‘Mom, can you get more chips?’ The boy yells and turns
his head ever so slightly. When there is no reply, he leans back and
returns to an entranced state of watching the water droplets, his
previous endeavour for food quickly slipping from his simple mind.
Lust: drives one into a state of depression from wanting something that one
does not have
. The tired housewife picks up the straw hat which was
left lying carelessly in the hallway with one hand, and carries the
basket of dirty laundry in the other. She lets out a sigh and rolls her
shoulders back to ease the tightness in her neck, straightening her
crooked posture. Looking beyond the clothesline which is a constant
reminder of her unfinished chores, and past the silhouette of her
husband working earnestly at the farm which means nothing to her,
the housewife sees the faint outline of high-rise buildings and feels
the sense of longing that it brings. She sees a realm of possibilities, a
realm that offered her a quiet exit, years ago, and an entrance that is
now non-existent. She longs to stand under the bright light once
more, not to face a muddy field of vegetables, but to greet an
audience filled with admiration. Reaching a hand to her wan face,
aged and sunken from a life of endurance, she longs for an escape
from this cancerous life which slowly and painfully drains her of her
livelihood.
Envy: when one desires the fortune of another.
The girl turns to see her
brother who is lazing on the veranda, his pot belly showing beneath
the shirt that he had long outgrown. ‘Bring out some more chips, will
ya?’ He slurs through the toothpick in his mouth whilst gesturing at
the empty platters beside him. She exhales quickly, releasing her fury
and frustration at the unfairness in her life. Upon unclenching her
fist, she discovers deep marks that she had left on the brim of the hat.
Pointedly ignoring her brother, the girl spins around and slowly
walks away, counting to her breath as she goes,
one
… the farm is her
passion,
two
… it is also her brother’s inheritance,
three
… her brother
A Scarecrow’s
Sins
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