Sinful Flash Fiction: Envy

Seven days…
Seven deadly sins…


The banquet stilled. People spluttered, choking and dropping their goblets while she observed serenely from her unmoved seat, sipping wine.

He panicked.

The people at the table were dying. The men fell forward, drowsy, and drowned in their soup.

It was worse for the women. She’d put much more nightshade in theirs.

Trusting fools. Why leave a witch in the kitchen?
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