The gathering

... mind your business, even if your son is being cooked alive.

They say revenge is best served cold, but i've always preferred mine piping hot. I stare at down him unforgivingly, smiling as Evan's eyes beg for mercy we both know he's not going to get. He messed with
the wrong woman. Pain contorts his face as he screams in agony, prompting me to increase the heat in the oven. My eyes glow with pleasure as he squirms from inside his fiery cage looking for a way to
escape.

Evan continues to shout at the top of his lungs, banging on the oven door from inside it. It's useless,
he's as trapped as I was when he assaulted me, stripping away my innocence. What hurt the most was
that I let myself be so vulnerable around him, to the point where he raped me. No more, I will end his
miserable life here and now, in the most excruciating manner possible. A loud knock on the door
interrupts my thoughts and I dash for the towel, wrapping it across the sides of the oven, effectively
dampening the noise from the man melting inside. I dust my self off and try to look composed, Evan
sure put up a fight before I shoved him into the oven. The visitor knocks again louder.

"Coming!"

Jeez, is roasting a man alive in peace too much to ask for? I walk briskly, tossing a small knife under a sofa nearby and i'm nervous by the time I get to the door. My heart sinks to the bottom of my
shoes when I stare through the peephole and see the big yellow letters on the back of the FBI agents'
windbreakers. It seems they are about to leave when one suddenly turns and hits the door with loud
rapport. I swing the door open and we all share a minute of unnerving silence, trying to find our tongues.

The taller one speaks first, sounding like he's had a sore throat for years.

"We had a call from the next house, something about someone screaming. Is there a problem?"

"No, nothing. I must have had the TV on too loud or something."

I add a fake laugh to try and ease them off but it doesn't work.The shorter and older looking woman
sniffs the air.

"Is something burning? I think we need to check the premises".

I block her way from entering and she shoves me aside, the man following through. They are a few
steps to the kitchen when I realize that some thing's off.

"Why are FBI agents responding to a home disturbance call? Shouldn't an ordinary policeman be here
instead?"

The man peeks into the kitchen, taking in the gory sight of his son, burned to a crisp, then they
look at me and I realize that they are not federal agents. The man suddenly yanks out a pistol from his
holster and I dash behind a couch as he lets off two rounds in my direction. The old woman rushes
towards me, surprisingly fast for her age and I immediately fly up the stairs, bullet rounds seeing me off.

She follows suit, foolishly thinking she has me with my back against the wall. The woman gasps in
surprise as she reaches the top of the stairs, staring at me in fear. I could get used to these fearful facial
expressions. She drops her gun and slowly raises her hands in surrender.

"Don't do anything stup-"

I squeeze the trigger, not allowing her to finish talking and the long barrelled shotgun I have
clutched in my arms goes off twice, putting multiple holes in her body. She jerks wildly in pain and falls
backwards. I follow her down the stairs, riddling her body with more bullets till she's lying on the cheap
rug at the bottom of the stairs, a bloody mess. Evan's dad is hiding now, waiting for his chance to
shoot.

I hold my gun up tactically, scanning my vintage themed sitting room for the slightest movement. He slips up and I see his shadow move behind the refrigerator. I noticed too late and he shoots, not
missing this time. I double back in pain, dropping my gun in the process. He dashes madly at me,
spewing profanities as he rams his fist into my face, time and time again until I can't move anymore.

"Look what you did to my boy, you b*****d!"

"H- he ha- had it coming!"

I manage to spurt out, smiling through a bloodied mouth. He looks at me with disgust, pointing his gun
at my head. I close my eyes and ready myself.

The sound of his empty clip as he pulls the trigger is music to my ears. I laugh loudly and he throws
the gun at my nose, breaking it. He rushes to grab my shotgun and I follow suit, lunging for his legs. He
topples over and we spend the next few minutes grappling. He eventually has me in a chokehold and
starts squeezing life out of me.

My vision starts to spot and I reach hopelessly for something to stab him
with. I see the glint of metal coming from under the sofa. I grab the shard immediately and deposit it in
his left eye. His screams permeate the air and he immediately lets me go. I stand up to feet and stab
him a few more times, disabling his arm and leg muscles. Then I stoop down until my face is right in
front of his, grinning from ear to ear.

"I wonder what old man meat smells like when roasted"

He screams louder as I drag him with his hair towards the kitchen.

Author's Note

Enjoy

Reviews

[JayG]

In this, and your other work, you, the author, are talking TO the reader, in the form: “This happened...then that happened...and after that...” But that’s a report, not fiction. And, things happen, not because that’s what the characters decide to do, based on their personality, background, and assessment of the situation, they do what you tell them to do, when you tell them to, accorting to what YOU see as necessary. How can that seem real?

Never forget that readers come to fiction to be entertained, to be made to care and feel, not learn details in the life of fictional people.

The problem with the, “Let me tell you what happened” approach is that things that seem obvious you, but for which the reader needs context, won’t be clarified, leaving a confused reader. And a reader will turn away immediately, if they are confused.

Look at the opening lines as a reader, to see how different what they get is from what you intend:

• They say revenge is best served cold, but i've always preferred mine piping hot.

Who cares? The reader has no context on who we are, where we are, or what’s going on — or what’s meant by piping hot. Remember, in all the world only you know the emotion to place into the reading.

• I stare at down him unforgivingly, smiling as Evan's eyes beg for mercy we both know he's not going to get.

Here’s where your pre-knowledge gets in the way.

1. How can you stare DOWN at someone who’s in an oven? You’d have look into it. Had you been in the protagonist’s viewpoint, instead of passing on the situation secondhand, you’d have caught that.
2. First you have this unknown person stare at a generic “him.” And THEN you identify him? Naaa. It's always the other way around. She knows him by name, so that's how the reader should see him.

• He messed with the wrong woman.

Meaningful to you, but meaningless to the reader, who, again, has no clue of the emotion you want them to place in the narrator’s voice.

• Pain contorts his face as he screams in agony, prompting me to increase the heat in the oven.

Ovens aren’t magic. It takes several minutes for a change to take effect. And if this person is in agony, it seems unnecessary to do that.

But that aside, you have to understand that the reader has no access to your intent. And you've not placed them in time or space, yet.So, they'll base their understanding on THEIR life-experience, not your intent. And in his case, it’s a killer:

1. In the reader’s experience, ovens are FAR too small to fit a human. You might have intent for a larger, commercial oven, but the reader has the one in their kitchen, which is probably part of their stove.
2. Oven doors don’t lock, even industrial ovens, so the door pushes open (yes, I know they the door locks on the cleaning cycle, but mostly, that happens at over 450°.
3. A TOWEL silence the noise of banging from inside the oven? Seriously?
4. Having people create pretend FBI jackets and arrive at just the right dramatic time, alone with her not realizing the ploy, is extremely contrived as-the-reader-sees-it. Think about it: You somehow know that your son is in trouble at someone's house. Do you:

A. Call the police?
B. Go in shooting?
C. Run to Amazon and order an FBI jacket, and then wait for delivery?

No one would select option C. In short, you’re making up detail and actions as needed. So, the characters are smart when you need smart and dumb when that suits. They will speak with your voice and think with your mind. How can that seem real?

Here’s the deal: Fiction is NOT written with the report-writing approach of the writing skills we’re given in school. That approach, nonfiction, is designed to inform, and when used for fiction reads like a report and has the problems I've noted here. It's not a matter of talent, though, just missing knowledge.

Fiction is designed to entertain the reader by making them feel that they’re living the events, in real-time, not hearing about them. Unfortunately, our school-day writing skills are meant to make us useful to employers, who need reports not stories. And like all professions, the skills of the Commercial Fiction Writing profession are, and must be, acquired in-addition to those school skills.

They’re not hard to learn, but they are necessary. So, try this:

Grab a copy of Debra Dixon’s, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict from the archive site linked to below, and try a few chapters for fit. It’s an excellent first book, and will provided the skills needed to give your words wings.
https://archive.org/details/goal.motivation.conflictdebradixon/page/n5/mode/2up

Jay Greenstein
Articles: https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/
Videos: https://www.youtube.com/@jaygreenstein3334

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“Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”
~ E. L. Doctorow

[hasbibiii]

Thanks for this review, i hope i understand in saying that what you are asking me is to be more in the head of my character, yes?. Thanks for the material too

[JayG]

• what you are asking me is to be more in the head of my character, yes?

More placing the reader there. History books tell us what happened. But, how often do you read them for entertainment?

The thing to remember is that using first-person pronouns don't magically convert the author talking TO the reader into the character living the scene. Telling is telling, be it the author doing it or the author pretending to have once lived the events.

Look at what happens if you change the opening to a more emotion-based approach, in which the reader is on the scene as it happens, as against being informed of it by a dispassionate external observer..

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Original:
They say revenge is best served cold, but i've always preferred mine piping hot. I stare at down him unforgivingly, smiling as Evan's eyes beg for mercy we both know he's not going to get. He messed with the wrong woman.
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Replacement:
Satisfaction warmed my thoughts as I watched Evan struggle, through the oven’s window. Raising my voice to be certain he heard, I said, “You messed with the wrong woman, my friend. Some say revenge is best served cold. But me? As you’re learning, I prefer mine piping hot.”
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Things to notice.
1. First, we learn her mood, which tells the reader HOW to read her words. It’s also character development.
2. We learn what’s going on immediately, which gives context to the words.
3. Given what’s said, it’s not necessary to tell the reader she’s not going to show mercy.
4. I changed the revenge statement to make it specific to the situation and the protagonist.
There's no external narrator talking TO the reader. Instead we're in the viewpoint of our protagonist.

Make sense? That book I recommended will show you how to use the motivation-reaction technique I employed.

[The Unknown Sith]

Ok, I like this! Sick and twisted but deserved. Nice work.

[hasbibiii]

I think it's rather uncoordinated and random, I tried to leave it open to speculation but I must have gone overboard. Still a good story though, if you can maintain comfort till the end.