Seven Deadly Sins: Jealousy

The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves

- William Penn

He looked deeply at her, for a few moments his peripheral sight was shunned. A strict tunnel vision that effected all of the senses. Sound waves turned away, the light and colours refused refraction. The smell was still lingering, permeating and infecting on to his very self. Sharp and crisp as newly formed water.

It was her!

The smell squeezed and concentrated the senses throughout his entire body so tightly that it burst, sending an invigorating rush all over his mind. Senses returned, but the outer optics still eclipsed.

It was her!

He had become her unknowing captive, stuck between all of her sins and virtues.

It was her!

He, now a monomaniac looking through myopia.

He couldn't feel his arm reach out, his palm blooming with outstretched fingers. Hands breaking down the defence of her eyes.

It was her!

Fingernails sensitively feeling her folic hair on her arms, whilst the fingertips caressed her pores, every dent, every groove, mark and scar. Moving up to her hair so smooth that would make spiders... jealous. Eyes fixated upon one another. The link made.

It was her!

The link broken.

She was gone!

He was left alone, not just externally but inwards...vacant.

Vision returned in full.

His arm left petrified, his ear reverberating heavily, too loud. His body slumped on to itself but his smell - her smell - remained, though just in recaptured reminiscence, the rose-tinted past.

He didn't blink.

Seeing her again should have made him feel once more. His eyes would glaze over as if they were encased in glass. One reason for this was a vain attempt at attention that she would see his pearly coloured pools and give in to the most uncontrollable of sins, lust. The other reason was to give off a lacquered effect, albeit unknown to himself, it was one of defence. He believed he knew how he felt but do her feelings reciprocate? The icy varnish would surely protect him otherwise.

He could see her now on the other side of the room amongst the crowd. She was talking to two men and giving and receiving much regard. He was talking to another woman, although not really listening. He went through the motions of affirmation and denial, enough at least to maintain social standings within the confines of conversation, but on the whole being negligent of the tedious tête-à-tête. His eyes glancing over to her on frequent intervals from the one-sided dialogue, but not once did gazes crash nor clash with untamed emotion. His shoulders sank and he could feel his torso barely unable to support his weight. He was heavy with intensity. His eyes, he thought he could feel them swelling larger in his sockets, boring backwards into his brain. It was as if they were melting into a thick ooze that were sloshing his thoughts all around, blending them into entangled nonsense.

More people joined her as she held court. She looked glorious in her grass green dress. Her hair, held up with strands breaking loose and stroking her velvety bare shoulders. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with a golden tint. Her cheeks reminded him of the first blossom of Autumn and her lips the gloss of an apple. His feelings were still ripe towards her, but something else had entered his mind. Something covetous. It pushed all of the ooze flowing out through his unblinking eyes. The substance, like teal treacle, swamped round the room creating a mist that only he could see.

Spite now had taken total control of his mind. He looked at his current companion and could only feel begrudgingly towards her. Why should he be talking to this person when he wanted, needed, to be over there, near the girl with golden eyes?

The mist was growing darker. Everything appeared in shades of grey and black, the only pigment of colour that he could see was her green dress. It was like electric envy striking into his mind. A mind of malevolence can see nothing else. He knew the other feelings were there, somewhere, but sharply becoming a distant memory.

He started to feel even heavier. He knew that everyone was staring at him. Genuine thoughts entered his head but were tarnished dark by the rusty brush of rancour. Senses dissolved and suddenly he could see through the mist, unblinking like lidless eyes.

He swamped through the grime towards her. Why should others pursue for her attention when he had already tasted it, savoured it? Why should he fear the comparison of these swine when they had already clasped onto one another for the briefest of instances?

Not one person was thinking this, nor were they noticing him trudge through the fantasy, filthy fluid. It felt sticky and sucked on to his shoes but he was gradually getting closer. The gloomy mist started to dissipate and the gunk slowly drained away with each step, until. He had made it.

It was her!

Full attention was relinquished to him as he stood, still. Seconds passed like days, and moments in a daze. Without moving his head he looked down to his hands, unblinking. His flesh seemed to have become jaundiced in the reflection of her amber eyes.

Suddenly, without thought or conviction, he let out a meretricious laughter. Something screamed in his mind, No!

There is nothing more frightening to his state of disgrace than laughter.

Everyone looked at him, everyone looked. He halted and before he could find himself he noticed the grandiose emeralds intricately woven around her throat. he caught a reflection in the pendant.

Pride, the immortal enemy of Envy.

The world came back and him with it.

It was her!

She touched him softly on the arm and looked with soft viridian eyes, before continuing to recount tales.

She talked.

He smiled.

She touched.

He blinked.

She left.

He stunted.

The shadows settled back down once again, Black and grey surrounded rippling with yellow flashes of envy. In the darkest corner he saw it.

A small dark smirk with feline green eyes.

Written in June 2015

#SevenDeadlySins #Jealousy #Envy