# 11/22/08 - Seven Sins



## Hawke (Nov 22, 2008)

Hello, Dear Writers, and welcome to your next LM. Your challenge this round is:


*Seven Sins*
_In 500 words or less (not including the title), write a scene centered around one of the seven deadly sins: Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger (or Revenge), Greed, Sloth. Remember, all entries must fall within the confines of the site rules and guidelines._
_Prompt courtesy of Selorian_


*Submissions may only be posted in* *this thread* *or in the* *thread provided in the **Writers’ Workshop* (you must provide a link to your submission in this thread if you opt to use the Writers' Workshop). Everyone is welcome to participate. Note: Judges may participate, but their entries will not be scored. 

Submissions will be accepted until Dec 6th (2 weeks)
Judging period: Dec 7th - Dec 12th
Results will be posted on or before Dec 13th

Good luck to everyone!

Your judges for this round are:
Wildcard
Selorian 
eggo
bryndavis
Sam Winchester


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## SparkyLT (Nov 22, 2008)

*NAILS ( 498 )*

My fingernails used to be bitten down to jagged edges. Since I had turned thirteen and started caring about my looks, they grew out to about a third of an inch long – and sharp.

They bit my palms. I knew there would be blood when I looked.

I glared across the room at my cousin. How dare he come here, to my place, my sanctuary? The squeaky little voice in my head told me that it wasn’t _my_ place, the library was a public place and anyone could walk in.

Christopher looked around. I slipped behind a rack of books – 'A' through 'Ca' – and pressed my forehead and palms against the cool green metal. Clenching my teeth hurt like hell because of the braces, and the pain made me even angrier. _Why did he make it his job to make my life miserable?_

It was my birthday. He had been invited by my parents, who were blind to the fact that I hated him. They had always been blind, when it came to Christopher.

I heard him walking. I could always tell it was him; he couldn’t move quietly. I peeked around the rack. He was coming in my direction, but not looking straight at me yet.

Little half-circles of liquid were the only trace of me when he reached 'A' through 'Ca'. The metal was too dark to tell it was blood. If he even noticed, he probably thought it was glue or something.

I strode briskly towards the door – it had been too deeply ingrained in me that I wasn’t supposed to run in the library, no matter what – ignoring the librarians who called goodbye. As soon as the door whisked closed behind me, I started running.

Christopher’s legs have always been longer than mine. Why did the librarians have to use my name?

My hands hit the pavement. I twisted around, trying to fight or put up resistance of any kind, but he was too strong, and I was too weak. All it took was one hand across my throat to hold me down, and another holding my wrists together.

He leered down at me. I could smell booze and tobacco on his breath.

“Jessica,” he slurred my name, defiling it. “You’re seventeen now, aren’tcha, sweetie? Legal now, aren’tcha?”

“You pervert,” I choked. I started to spit on his face, but that squeaky voice told me not to make it worse.

My nails bit my palms again, cutting back into the same spots. Then they unfurled, and chomped down on his wrist.

He jerked back, shocked. “You little bitch!” he shrieked, and pulled back to punch me.

I rolled out of the way and scrambled to my feet. Hitting pavement, he swore, then lurched up and came at me again. For once, being smaller worked in my favor: I barely had to duck to avoid this attack. I leapt at him ferally, hands up, not caring what I hit.

My nails bit into his eyes.


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## Katastrof (Nov 22, 2008)

Here's mine:
_*Seduction Before Salvation*_
http://www.writingforums.com/writer...hallenge-11-22-08-seven-sins.html#post1215754


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## Tarantula (Nov 24, 2008)

*Turnabout*

I wouldn’t undress her. She undid the top three buttons of her blouse, popped a quarter in the motel’s bed and jiggled while I watched.
I went to the mini bar and pulled out three glasses at random, Jack, Maker’s Mark, and Beefeater. 
The bed stopped jiggling, she got up and turned on the television. She threw me a smoldering look and I tried to hide the erection in my jeans. “Wanna watch something for grown-ups only?” she asked in her best little girl voice. I took a shot, Jack, she wet her plum red lips.
At home my wife was probably sitting on the couch surrounded by kids that I had no reason to believe weren’t mine. It was way past their bedtime on a school night but she believed I was at a business conference.
Gloria had distracted me. I was getting into a cab and she appeared from nowhere and grabbed my crotch; whispered promises in my ear.
“Come on, dontcha wanna have some fun?” she asked, by now she was reaching behind her back and undoing the straps on her black lacey bra. “I know you want to.” 
The bra landed, cup covering my face. Her full breasts hung naked in the stale air of the motel room. Underneath the cup I knocked back the Beefeater with a choke and splutter. How smooth was that?
I took a deep breath and tried not to remember that I had been sleeping alone on the couch for three months now for some unknown mystery reason. I tried not to think about how my wife never looked at me anymore and certainly not the way Gloria was. God her hips were tantalizing, hypnotizing, and unbelievable.
She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slowly slid them down to her ankles before kicking them into my face. I grabbed the ghostly thin black panties and inhaled the heady aroma and shuddered. 
Her body was trim and clean and her breath smelled like scotch. There is nothing sexier on a woman’s breath than hard liquor. “Need a little help out of those?” She walked over to me gracefully. 
My wife staggered. Sometimes I thought the worst thing I did was marry her. I hadn’t seen a blowjob in two years. It had been the night before our wedding. Lingerie was out too, so were candles and slow dancing, lunch brought to my office. These things were gone.
And then I remembered his name, Todd. The bastard’s name was Todd and my mind reeled. The horde of new clothing(that she never wore for me), the manicures, the staying out late without calling, the sonuvabitch’s name was motherfucking Todd. 
Gloria squealed when I bit her pert nipple.
Two could play at that game and I could damn sure make sure I got more out of it than her.
Gloria's body was a sports car waiting for a test drive and I had a lead foot.

The End.


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## C.Gholy (Nov 26, 2008)

*Hated Kiss*

The last thing Hannah wanted to do on her birthday, was to be alone with a room with Roberta. If there was anything Hannah would compare Roberta to, it would be a snake. Raven spikes and a sneaky personality was pure evidence alone. Whenever Hannah was with a boy, her emerald eyes would widen. However, the envy disappeared when the pair of them were alone. Hannah knew it, it was clear to her that Roberta was either a lesbian or bisexual. Lately, Hannah's instincts told her that she was being stalked. The way Roberta touched her hazel hair, the way she tried to be kind she didn't understand any of this at all. 

Roberta's hands were crawling towards her  breasts. The floral scent of Hannah's perfume must have lured Roberta close. Roberta pressed her scarlet lips on Hannah's cheek in a rather gentle manner. Hannah turned around, noticing the loose buttons on Roberta's aqua top sliding off her shoulders.  

“Stop it,” Hannah requested biting her lip, “I'm not interested in you, I just want to get on with my work.”
“I wanted to give you your birthday present,” Roberta sighed with sex in her mind. 
“I do not need your present! ” she snapped pushing herself away from Roberta in an instant. 
“Are you sure?” Roberto asked with a seductive tone in her voice whilst the blouse joined the ground. 
“Yes I am,” Hannah shrieked out “now get dressed at once .... before I get nasty.”. She was feeling very tempted throw her fist at Roberta for her immoral behavior. The only thing Roberta did was smirk with her hands round her waist; suggesting she'll take them off as well.

“ARE YOU DEAF?” Hannah shouted, her anger felt uncontrollable, “I hate you, you filthy dyke! You are unattractive and me-” she was cut off by the grip of Roberta's hand and taken to the sofa. “Get your hands off me!”  the brunette demeaned. The demand was too late, Roberta was already on top in a position Hannah intended to avoid. She was far too disgusted for words. 

“I love you when you're angry...” Roberta's lips curved for a few seconds then planted her tongue in her mouth.  

The powerful tongue action became too much for Hannah to sink in. Kisses were meant to be lovely, sweet, caring and delightful. This kiss was the opposite. The only thing that was on her mind right now was when will Roberta stop. She tried everything in the power she had to push the dyke of the sofa. Her weight was crushing crushed Hannah. All the Hannah's signals failed because it made Roberta even more aggressive. 

After a couple of minutes, Roberta broke the kiss. The pair of them panted together with opposite facial expressions. “That was too much....” Hannah stuttered, she was speechless. 
“Don't worry,” Roberta smiled patting her on the shoulder, “The walls are our only witness.”

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Notes: I think the main theme is lust. However, I think there is also anger on Hannah's side and pride and lust on Roberta's side but I hope that fits the seven deadly sins theme.


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## SevenWritez (Nov 27, 2008)

The Gluttonous Admonishment (499)

“I say, Maria, bring me the grapes!”

The grapes were brought.

“I say then, darling, feed me! Feed me now!”

Sure he’d collapse from the intake, Maria did as told.

“Fine, oh, fine, oh, fine, yes, fine.”

The girl did not shake when the master’s hand soared past her waist and landed on the soft cheek of her rear. He looked at her and smiled and on his teeth purple skins sloughed. His tongue protruded and licked these off, and his lips – gargantuan things – smacked and let into the air impressive dabs of spit. Maria picked another grape from the bowl and dropped it into the hole on his face. 

“Oh, Maria, beautiful Maria,” he crooned as he massaged her rear. “So good to me you are, Maria, so fine and pretty a thing.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said. 

His hand moved past her waist and explored under the skirts of the dress she’d been made to wear, and she felt then the thick protrusion of a dirtied digit push into a space she’d rather it not. Maria tried to move.

“Oh, dear, no, no,” he said. His other hand reached out and pulled her in so fiercely that the bowl she’d brought fell from her hands and clattered upon the marble floor. Grapes rolled in all ways and behind them trailed purple juices Maria would surely be ordered to clean up. The finger giddily entered and left and entered again.

“Oh, Maria, so sweet a thing you are. So,” his free hand reached up to pat her face, “so soft and young. Oh, Maria, you cannot fathom what thoughts of you I carry with me in these lonely and unwelcoming nights.”

Two guards stood by the doors of the chamber, vacant of purpose other than aesthetic. He ordered their leave and so they left. The chamber doors echoed in closure and thus he was glad. 

“Maria, you beautiful, you sweet, you muse of poets and curse of strong men. Do you understand your beauty, Maria? Do you know what horrid desires I feel arise when in your presence?”

Both hands now held her. Maria looked over the top of his head, past his crown. He stood from the bench he’d been laid upon and though she tried to look elsewhere his hands seized her face and took its lips to his. She struggled.

“No Maria,” he hissed in whisper. “No, oh no.” 

He took hold of her frail arms and threw her upon the marble bench. She squirmed though did not scream, and when it ended he smiled and deceased to slumber.

First tears came and then the horrid sob, and soon Maria stood. Blood was where it should not have been. On the floor his crown lay. She lifted it. In its construction were designed serrated tips positioned around the edge, and she felt each with her shaking finger.

Then she saw him, peaceful in rest. She held the crown and approached his motionless frame.


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## Raging_Hopeful (Nov 29, 2008)

*Angry Coasters – 497 words*

The glass of milk had left a white ring on the dark mahogany table. She bought that table at Ikea. She loved Ikea. Expensive looks for half the price. She fidgeted with the white gold ring on her finger. 

She had told him to use a coaster. Just use a _fucking _coaster. Was it so hard? She had trained him to lift the seat, to wipe it when he sprinkled. But the goddamn rings glared white on her beautiful table. She bought it after the third affair. He had promised it was the last. They had even moved to the new house on the Upper East Side. Beautiful. With French doors.

“And it looks like rain tonight, folks! The new storm system is cycling—“

Her hands were shaking as she switched the TV off. Her perfectly manicured hands were shaking. Even her thick brown ringlets were trembling. As she caught a glimpse in the hallway mirror she was surprised at her transformation. Red blotches rose high on her cheekbones and her lips were pasted with peeling skin.

A business dinner indeed.

The wrinkled piece of paper with an unknown phone number, tucked in his front pocket. It was hard to imagine what she would have to go through again. She couldn’t go through it again. Everything she had was cooped up in the _fucking _house. Cooped up. Trapped. What if she walked out the front door? Credit card bills and a car payment. No job. David liked her at home. Trapped.

Marietta wandered into the bedroom and sat on the edge of their king-sized bed. She knew he had bought it so he could sleep far away; sleep clutching the far edge of the bed, far away from her. She squeezed her eyes shut but felt no tears. There were none left for this betrayal, following the so many before. 

She heard his car pull up in the driveway. The wet tires whispered against the asphalt. It was the curse of having a master bedroom adjoined against the garage wall. You could hear everything. She heard him cough and the car door slammed shut. 

“Marietta?” he called into the darkness. 

Their bedroom door swung open and he stood there, framed perfectly in the dim light.

“What are you still doing up? I told you I’d be late,” he said casually. He undid his tie, tossing it over the back of a chair. Her hands were no longer shaking. 

“Are you all right? You look awful,” he said. She mumbled under her breath. He placed his hands on her shoulders, peering down at her.

“What did you say?”

Her hands tightened around the hilt of the kitchen knife and in one swift jerk she stabbed him in the gut, pushing it high to the hilt, the warm blood swelling over her fingers, dripping down her forearms. He screamed and grabbed her hands, eyes wide in terror and alarm.

“I said, use a FUCKING COASTER!”


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## Nefieslab (Nov 30, 2008)

Pride has always been man's downfall.

Aphrodite’s Face

Aphrodite’s face was the most ambitious building project to date. It was a marvel to behold on paper and absolutely outstanding to behold. A simple skyscraper had been transformed into a work of art with massive blocks of white marble, thousands of sculpturers and one man with a vision.

Eric Manson was the man with vision and the overwhelming drive to have the project completed to such a standard that it became the largest work of art to ever be created. It was a simple enough building in its bone structure. It had four sides and was a rectangle, towering above many of the other buildings in Beijing. The artist masterpiece of the building was the side covered in a layer of white marble. And into this marble was carved, with infinate detail and care, the face of a woman. The face of Aphrodite.

Right now however Eric Manson was fighting furiously to make sure that the marble face stayed on the building’s side. He was currently staring down three suit wearing nobodies who were insisting that the face had to be removed,
“Give me one good reason why the face should be removed?” he demanded of them, fully aware that he was using his height to intimidate them while making his demand. The two suits at the sides looked away, leaving the middle man to brave Eric’s fury,
“Mr Manson… the face of marble is simply too heavy!” he explained, subconciously backing away from the taller man, “And without the needed supports it will fall from the building! Thousands of people would be crushed and at least three smaller sky scrapers would collapse.”
Eric growled,
“Well then get them to build their buildings strong like mine next time! This building is 100% safe!” he replied, using the fire the building gave him rather than real evidence to make this statement. The middle man shook his head,
“But the workers-“
“Were incompetant fools!” he declared, his eyes widening to give the mad look that only a crazed fanatic could give, “I have created a building that will never be surpassed! This building will stand forever as a marvel of engineering and design. This is the most beautiful creation in the history of mankind!”
The man in the suit shook his head,
“I’m sorry Mr Manson. We have to insist that you take down the face and-“
“Fine! I have contacts in the Chinise government! The next day you go to work you will leave with a box of your belongings clutched to that pathetic chest of yours!”

Two years after its construction and official opening the marble face’s supports final give in. Tonnes of solid marble fell onto the city. Three buildings were crushed outright and a total of seven hundred and seventy three people died as a direct result of the slab’s fall. It took two days before the slab claimed another life, indirectly this time. Seven hundred and sevnty four people dead, including one Eric Manson.


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## RoundEye (Nov 30, 2008)

Misogynistic Pig


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## Raging_Hopeful (Nov 30, 2008)

Wow. Lots of sex in this LM, heh. Of course, it is a popular sin.


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## Swamp Thing (Dec 1, 2008)

Hawke -

Can it only be one of the 7?  I've got an idea that might mention all of them in one scene.

ST


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## Hawke (Dec 1, 2008)

I'm really sorry, ST, but I think the challenge should stay as is to be fair to those who've already entered and/or are working on theirs as we speak.


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## Swamp Thing (Dec 1, 2008)

Makes sense.


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## Raging_Hopeful (Dec 2, 2008)

But ST you could maybe demonstrate all of them but only focus on one as a central theme? Just a thought


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## seigfried007 (Dec 3, 2008)

I don't see why it'd be any different than the Movie Title Mixer challenge responses that used three or even five titles. It's the piece that wins--not the extra mile, originality or raw mechanical excellence. A good idea won't win necessarily.


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## seigfried007 (Dec 4, 2008)

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...hallenge-11-22-08-seven-sins.html#post1220258


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## Hookflash (Dec 4, 2008)

*Hail, King of the Jews!*

"It is time." The guard -- Tiberius, was it? -- spoke with typical Roman equanimity, but Jeshua Ben Joseph was certain he glimpsed an ingrained contempt in those eyes. "I said get up, Jew."

Jeshua stood slowly, trembling. He had to support himself against the cold stone wall of his cell. His breathing was short and ragged, and the steady pounding in his ears swelled like the march of an approaching Legion. He had never thought himself susceptible to such mortal fear, such agonizing, base terror. It repulsed him.

Tiberius seemed taken aback by Jeshua's feeble state, and now his voice carried undertones of sympathy. "Come. You chose this path."

Jeshua's pride, which he took as a hallmark of his divinity, stirred -- who did this mortal think he was speaking to? -- yet, for now, fear held its ground and kept his legs from moving. "I... cannot." Jeshua nearly choked on those unfamiliar words. He felt himself shrinking inward, suffocating as he dropped to his knees. He turned away from the guard's judgmental stare, and, to his own amazement, began to weep.

Tiberius cleared his throat. "Then you must quit this charade. You are not the Son of God. You are not the King of Judea. Look! You are a man who weeps and cowers like a child." He grimaced. "And now you have wet yourself."

Jeshua felt the warmth pooling at his knees. His ears burned, and, again, the deadly pride within him was roused, almost fully awake now, fixing its predatory stare with renewed purpose on those pesky human traits -- fear, doubt, and their ilk  -- that were obstructing his true nature. Just a little further...

Tiberius went on, oblivious: "Accept that you are but a man, Jeshua. Listen to the Prefect. Renounce your blasphemous claims."

Finally, Jeshua's pride sprung into action, devouring the last parasitic fragments of his humanity and assuming its throne at the center of his being. Did this Roman dog dare to patronize a King? Did his insolence run so deep that he would deem the Son of God a mere man? Jeshua affected a menacing grin. Men could be killed; Gods could not. He stood, wiping the tears from his eyes. And wasn't he a God? "I am ready."

***

Tiberius hesitated as a memory began to surface -- a proverb. "What is that saying of your people? 'Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.'" He glanced pointedly at Jeshua, but it was no use: The carpenter-Messiah stood red-eyed and petulant, fatuously defiant. Tiberius sighed. "Very well." 

As they approached Golgotha, Tiberius noticed that his disheveled charge was mumbling to himself -- a mantric contradiction: "Forgive them. Destroy them!" -- and that his eyes gleamed with the sickness of mind that always consumed these self-proclaimed Messiahs of Judea in the end. For the remainder of their journey, Tiberius wondered in silence at the destructive power of unchecked pride.


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## Remedy (Dec 5, 2008)

Author's note (in white text in case you don't want to read):
My grandmother just died, and I've been out of state all week helping with her funeral. The woman in charge of the funerals gave me a book with readings I could pick out for the mass. You wouldn't believe the amount of mentions of "and everyone else is going to Hell" there were. I was pretty horrified. Who puts that in a funeral? "Have a nice day in eternal damnation! Loved ya!"
500 words even. 

Death in Life

The coffin lay in the middle of the floor, candles standing on either side of it. Its occupant looked peaceful, her hair carefully arranged to hide the stitches in her skull. Stitches placed to repair the bullet wound to the side of the head, stitches that sealed her fate. She didn’t look like she was sleeping; in sleep, she had always carried a lost look. Here, she looked peaceful; that kind of bliss hadn’t come to her in life. 

The man stared at the floor, scuffing at the purple carpet with a heel of a shoe. Purple was an odd choice for a funeral home, he thought, but he had no other choice. The church with its shiny hardwood refused them. Sixteen years old, just a baby, and they wouldn’t take her. 

“Suicide is a mortal sin,” the priest had explained, disdainful grey eyes behind thick glasses. His reedy voice had an undercurrent of hate. “She is damned to Hell, and we will have no part of it.”

She lay in the middle of the floor, candles standing on either side of her. She wasn’t peaceful; she was damned. The stitches were visible anyway, and the wound gaped wider than before. 

On the way out, he looked at the receptionist and forced a smile, even though it felt like his face was breaking apart at the effort. He had no words anymore; they too were dead. She was dead, gone, and the body was not worth keeping. 

The drive back seemed to take ages, even though it was closer to fifteen minutes.

Here his shoes clacked, ringing against the hardwood floors. They had been shined recently, and he could have seen himself in them if he had looked down. Instead, he kept going forward, fixated on his destination. Nothing could stop him now.

He slid into the darkened room, sitting on a dark wood bench. In his hands he cradled a gun. Its barrel was married with blood, but otherwise it gleamed. He had always kept it shining. He would no longer polish it after tonight; the blood of her and him would joined on it forever. 

The screen in front of him seemed thinner than a sheet.

“What can I do for you, child?”

A slow smile curled his lips; it was his first smile since she had died. He raised that gun, so damned now, and he aimed it carefully. 

“I have not sinned,” he answered softly. “Not yet, anyway.”

He heard the confused intake of breath on the other side of the screen, and he pressed the trigger. The priest did not scream; he only gurgled on blood. 

“You’re damned,” he choked out. “You fool. May God have mercy on your soul.”

“No,” the man answered, still safely on the other side of the screen. “I want to be punished. You damned my daughter, and now I am damned now.” He laughed, the maniac bubbling beneath. “She is avenged, and I will be with her in death.”


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## RainBeau (Dec 5, 2008)

*Sloth*

Addendum

(Page 5)
​Sirs: These five pages are the addendum to my application for the attached U.S. Patent Office form sb0016.

This page explains the device and why this merits patent protection even though the individual components are already being manufactured worldwide.

On page one, Figure One shows the outer shell of the smoke detector.
Figure Two shows in the inner workings of the detector.

On page two the individual components are diagrammed and are as follows:

Figure Three shows the detector apparatus proper, a standard issue Americium ionization-chamber type smoke detector, with associated Horn sounding device.

Figure Four shows the Light Emitting Diode (LED) array and housing. Both the detector and the light are powered by a nine volt battery.

Figure Five shows the Interrupter circuit and clock, the clock being a quartz crystal affair encased in its can.

Page three reveals the schematic of all listed devices, in the same order.

Page four shows the diagram and schematic for the Remote Control (RC).

The RC unit shows two buttons: the top button is used to toggle the light in the detector (Page two Figure 4), for non-emergency use.

The bottom button is used to actuate the Interrupter Circuit (which starts the clock).

*USE:

The detector sensing combusted particulates in the room air lights the LED array (Page two, Figure 4) and sounds the Horn  (Page two, Figure 3), at 135 decibels, pitched at 1760 cycles per second and pulsed (which is loud enough to awaken even the soundest of sleepers).

The RC (Page 4) lights with its internal LED so the user can determine if they should choose to arise at this time. If the user decides that the fire isn't "bad enough" he can actuate the second button on the RC thereby initiating the Interrupter Circuit, (Page two, Figure 5). The IC eliminates the sound and light warnings for a period of five (5) minutes allowing the user to get five more minutes rest before the warnings resume. The RC will only activate the IC once making sure the user doesn't simply "hit the snooze button" again with (no doubt) detrimental results. 

The IC only becomes functional again once the main reset (Page 1, Figure 1) has been actuated.*


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## Mike (Dec 6, 2008)

Echo was moved to the Writer's Workshop. Not really tech savvy at 6am, sorry.


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## Hawke (Dec 7, 2008)

*** Closed***


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