Neid

In a quiet village beside the Lahn River, a lone traveler steps into the solitary church that dominates the hill. There, a single, unsettling painting dominates the altar: a naked man encircled by fire and coiling serpents, his face a mask of agony. The Latin inscription hints that envy—Invidia—has driven the scene, leaving the observer haunted by the stark, almost ritualistic symbolism.

The narrator’s curiosity draws a conversation with the church’s caretaker, who reveals that the grotesque image was commissioned by the very founder of the building, a man whose identity and deeds have been swallowed by time. As the story unfolds, the unsettling artwork becomes a portal into a forgotten past, inviting questions about pride, remorse, and the lengths one will go to exorcise inner demons. Listeners are led through a tense exploration of how a single act of envy can echo through stone walls and linger in the collective memory of a community.