by Scott Toney
Sloth
A dim stream of daylight struck through the curtains in Thomas’s bed chamber. It illuminated the ground as he lay in bed holding onto the pulsing flesh of a half-eaten fig. The sweetness of its juices still permeated his mouth from a bite he had taken a half-hour ago.
He didn’t want to move his muscles or speak. All he wanted to do was rest. He closed his eyes and let himself be consumed by the darkness.
Minutes passed… then hours.
In his distant consciousness he could feel the steady pulse of the half fig in his palm.
“…Sire...” a voice came to him.
Who, he thought.
“…the mercenaries have returned from Cush and Assyria with gems and goods pillaged from their lands. You should see…”
Thomas let himself be taken once more by the darkness.
“…Sire…”
“Leave… me…” Thomas mumbled without opening his eyes.
“…your people…” the voice returned.
Dora’s voice was in the room then. “…leave our king to rest…” she spoke in a softened hiss. “…he wishes to be alone. All will still be well when he awakes…”
Silence. He almost gave in to the darkness. He would sleep forever and all would be well.
“…Thomas…” Dora’s voice came. “…eat the fruit, and then rest…”
It took everything in his body to lift the pulsing fruit to his mouth. Dreariness seemed to seep through the fruit and into his veins.
“…eat…” Dora spoke again.
He slid the fleshy fruit past his lips and chewed it slowly, drifting off into the darkness of slumber as he ate it. He could sleep with it in his mouth. It was time to rest.
“…good…” Dora said. She traced his forehead with her long fingernails. “…have sweet dreams, Thomas. I will watch over you…”
…darkness…
…sleep...
…rest...
҉
Dora stood at the edge of his bed as he gave in to nothingness, completely away from the world for days.
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