I'm back!

I know I haven't updated in ages, but I have been busy writing this chapter and working. But I'm finally done with Greed!

It's not a very graphic chapter.

I really don't feel the need to write the synopsis for each chapter…so if you're reading this chapter first just know that I've done a series of vignettes based on The Seven Deadly Sins and Claude Frollo.

As always reviews/constructive criticism are welcome, however flames are not.

Enjoy and review!


Guilt was felt every time he prayed. Such a beautiful and intimate act prayer was, yet now it had become sullied by his ambitions and desires. He certainly could not be thought as so primal to feel such guilt, or to ask such things.

"God grant me whatever knowledge a man must have to create gold."

It was a shuddering whisper, one he made sure no one else heard. He would barely breathe it in his cell, bent over books and boiling metals. Like all ideas a presumably good man has this one too began with the purest of intent. If he were able to create gold, there would be no starving people in the streets! He could even justify that what he was doing was indeed pure; those same people who were once starving would be grateful and want to show their thanks to God! Those people would be brought to the light and live in His Kingdom. Yes, with all the gold in the world all of the world's problems could be solved and every man, woman and child from France to the orient would be thanking him. But he was humble and would tell them all not to thank him, but to thank God and that to show how grateful they are, they ought become Christian and denounce their pagan ways. With all the power that all the gold in the world brings, he could finance crusades and reform everyone.


It was hot. A dense, humid and unforgiving heat surrounded him. In a frantic state he looked around, but all he saw were rich red walls and a damp ground. There was an opening high above his head, which he regarded with a collected calm. This hole was weeping a red liquid, searing, scorching his feet! But he did not cry out, instead he looked up to find a root or a branch to take hold of. All he saw were two dark figures looking down at him. Claude nodded, realizing where he had been placed and in that nod gave permission.


But good intent is perhaps the most slippery slope of all. Had he begun with despicable plans and a horrifying design, perhaps then he would have felt some spark of guilt during an experiment…something to change his mind. But all his life he had thought of himself as a good man with good intentions. Such a man rarely if ever sees the receding of the good intent as it casually drifts into mal intent.

Had he possessed the sun, the bright golden sphere which she so cherished, he would be God! Perhaps he would not have been God to thousands, but she would worship him.


This hole was unlike any other; it pulsated and churned and Claude could feel it breathing. He could feel his toes wiggling in the mossy ground, stirring up the rank odor of the liquid beneath. A metallic stench, salty, bitter and earthy…yet familiar. Above him he could hear a clinking sound and with curiosity looked up.

"Ouch!"

A small, plate like object had struck his face, before landing on the instep of his right foot. Out of blatant curiosity he again looked up to see a few more objects been dropped. This time he had learned to shield his face with his arms and was able to catch one of the small shining objects.


The sun, gold, God. That had become his line of thinking. Were he able to, he would pay someone to kill that "Sun God." He would have that braggart's body buried far away where none would even suspect to find it! With all the gold in the world, he could have it done and no one would ask a single question. Would she mourn him? Of course, or she would until someone placed a more luminescent object in her line of sight.

Yes, every man had his price and judging by how many times his brother frequented brothels every woman had her price as well. There would be questions, but gold could easily be the answer. And what man, what man of God would ever doubt the answer of a hundred gold coins in his hand? None.

He could possess the "Sun God." Yes, he could use the idiot as his willing lackey. It was not so much about the gold, but the sun. With all the gold in the world, one must easily be able to buy the sun.


It was flat, yellow, shiny and engraved. It was a gold coin! They had all been gold coins and they now pooled around his feet, causing him to sink into the red ground. He could read the inscription on the one he held in his hand.

"God grant me whatever knowledge a man must have to create gold."

His own words, used in this demonic wishing well! In seeing those words, his words on that coin, he began to panic. A way out, there must be a way out…


Why stop at such a measly planet as the sun? With that much gold, he could possess even God himself. He would command God to bring that little dancing girl to him and make her love him. He would buy her necklaces of gold, diamonds, rubies…everything she would ask for in return she would be his.

He grabbed hold of a wall, placed one foot on the wall and pushed up with the other. It worked, though briefly. He slipped down, handfuls of vile red soil and feet covered in the stinking red liquid. He dropped the soil instantly, after feeling it begin to eat away at his hands. Now red, from the soil Claude attempted to wipe them clean on his cassock. His hands were red, the soil had begun to eat away at his flesh. He thought it best not to attempt another escape.

He would tell God that if he did not get his way, he would stop the crusades. He would quit the building of churches, the reforming of pagans. He would keep the gold for himself and share the alchemy with no one!

As more coins were dropped, he could feel himself sink deeper into the dank, red soil. He could feel the red mossy slush carelessly devouring his ankles.

"GAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

It was not a word, but a sound of anguish as he fell upon his shins. His knees hit the acidic slime and he scrambled to get up, before they too were eroded to his thighs. Through all of this, the coins kept dropping down on him. This was hope; perhaps the coins would continue to drop and he could stay on top of them, allowing them to raise him up and climb out of this dreadful pit. He had no feet, no ankles and the coins poured down on top of him.


He would stop killing innocent men by placing one army against another if God did not obey. He would leave houses of worship unfinished, so that the people would not have a place to pray to God. He would allow men of pagan faiths to go on worshiping their false idols and the dungeons would be empty without these men to torture. He would have all the gold and all the power to himself, but he would no longer have God and without God there would be no way to possess her.


Coins struck his back, his buttocks, his head. He could not creep down to attempt escape, surely the acidic would eat him whole. He would not climb up, for he would surely loose his hands and arms in the process.

The path to Hell had not been paved with good intentions. The pathway was only paved with men of ill intent. Hell was paved with good intentions.

He lay, allowing the coins to continue burying him. It was a far less gruesome torment, than being consumed by the blood and acid which reside in the pit of one's own stomach.


The thought of all the evil one could do with such gold stirred his stomach, making him feel nauseated and a burning sensation rose up from his throat.


Hope you all enjoyed that, now please review!