When Death Knocks (working title) A Short Story

[Miranda Clementine]

First off, WARNING: violence, sex and foul language ahead. Also thanks for looking!! I would love to receive some opinions/critiques on this piece. It’s another short story I’ve been working on to practice my technique, so all honest critiques are welcome.

I broke this up into two parts because I need more help with the second part than the first and it’s a bit long. I’m sure the first half needs work as well, but I’m less confident with the second part because of the action (among other things) involved. Overall the story is 1347 words long, but the first part is 477 and the second is 870. I think if you start off with the second part it will make enough sense for a critique but the first part really brings it together. So…



Part one (for part 2 go to my next post):

Mud slows its escape from under Jake’s boots. The once flourishing grass, now brown and shriveled, is forgotten. Only his bedroom window maintains his focus as familiar music penetrates the night from within. When clouds clear the waning moon, his breath is barely visible as its vapor returns to the atmosphere. It distracts him and his debating ends.

With eager fingertips he inspects the window’s edge and tests the latch; it’s unlocked. Sliding it open, quietly, just an inch, like he had a hundred times before when they would play one of their lovers’ games.

The games were her idea, but he never objected, and this had been his favorite. He would stand outside the window and spy. First, she’d strip, innocently, as if there was no audience. Sometimes, she’d gaze at her reflection while examining her beautiful figure; as if scrutinizing her flaws. Comb her raven hair, skimming the nipples of her full breasts with each stroke. Subtle prompts which allowed him to be rapt in his role. Jake was the thief, she, the precious gem.

Next, he’d watch his victim climb across her bed, reach into the nightstand for her toy of choice and then prime his treasure.

Soft music would play while she pleasured her delicate rose and he waited, hungrily, for his cue to take stage. He’d allow her to climax, his spying heightened her excitement and she’d always peak swiftly, before slipping through the window to steal her goods.

Her performance was superb. A lesser man would have given up the fight, but she liked it rough and he’d master the challenge. They always left the stage with bruises; little reminders of their excitement.

Tonight is different.

It’s not her silhouette he spies through the window; not at first. Instead, the smooth, tattooed back of her lover glares at him. Like all her latest conquest, he’s barely a man.

Jake should have known better than to stay, but he wants, needs, to see it.

Her red dress hits the floor at Lover Boy’s feet. He embraces her and nuzzles her breasts; the silky breasts of the woman Jake loves. The only woman he has ever loved. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, an expression of ecstasy which belongs to Jake.

Innocently, as if she has no audience, she unfastens his pants and examines him with a smile. He has no flaws. Jake trembles, his throat tightens, head throbs with rage and fists dig into the stucco, attempting to numb the pain in his chest, as Lover Boy steals the sensation of her curves. Tracing the skin of the woman he cherishes.

She wraps her legs around him.

He carries her to the bed.

She lays back, knees bent, willing and ready.

He presses his lips to the delicate flower Jake had loved and nurtured since adolescence.

She moans with pleasure.

[Miranda Clementine]

Part 2: If you skipped the above, Jake just witnessed his wife (they’re separated) having sex with another man.

Lover Boy has gone too far. Jake was going to take the thieving hands off his delicate rose. But there would be no slipping through the window tonight.

Jake’s keys are useless at the back door, it isn’t locked. First stop is the den. That’s where he keeps the safe. His key is an advantage here. He flips open his revolver, a gift for their fifteenth anniversary, and spins its chamber. Three rounds should be enough, he rarely misses a target, but he packs it with six.

As he slinks down the hallway, to his room, the last room they had shared after twenty years, he could hear their f**king getting louder. The familiar rapping of the headboard against the wall is numbing, he’s never heard it from a distance, and it pulls him forward.

There is no need for him to be quiet when he opens the door.

Her face is pressed into the sheets as Lover Boy stands at the foot of the bed. Another moan seeps through her lips before she sees him. “No…. stop… Trevor!” She struggles but he thinks she’s being playful. “Jacob.”

Trevor stops his thrusting at this foreign name, but it’s too late for him to brace for their intruder’s arrival. Jake jabs his head with the gun barrel.

“Get the f**k off her.”

Trevor stumbles back.

She sits up on the bed and fumbles with the sheets, attempting to hide her shame. “Jake, what are…”

“Shut up.”

She screams when Jake points the .44 at her. “Shut the f**k up, Donna!” He cocks the hammer. “Don’t look at me.” He points it back at Trevor. “Get your f**kin’ ass on the floor. On your knees. Hurry. I said don’t f**kin’ look at me, Donna. Look at him.” His hand trembles as he grips the pistol and strikes Trevor with the handle. He tumbles to the floor.

“Jake,” Donna says. “Why… why are you here?” He shifts the revolver back to her.

“I want to know, is he worth it? Were any of them worth it? Look at him, not even man enough to fight. And I wasn’t enough? You had to find something better. Is this little sh*t better?” Trevor kneels on the floor again. Jake turns his attention back to him. “Ok buddy, you’re first.”

“No, please, Jake…”

“I want you to watch this, Donna. F**kin’ watch this. Are you watching? This is all your fault.” Donna kicks his hand just as he pulls the trigger. Trevor grunts, the bullet hit his chest, forcing him to the floor again.

“Jake?” Tears stream down her cheeks.

“You b**ch! Fine, let’s get this over with. You never loved me, ditched me the second you didn’t need me.”

“No, Jake, that’s not true. I…” He pulls the trigger again. He’s tired of hearing her attempts at redeeming her actions. Finally, she is silent forever. Trevor struggles to push himself toward the bed. Jake wouldn’t let him live, not after what he stole from him. He glances at Donna’s lifeless body and fingers her hair before aiming at Trevor again.

“Dad, no!”

Jake swings around and faces a new target, Kasey.

Using her bat, she smashes the gun out of his hand but not before he pulls the trigger. The bullet hits her thigh. She intended on using it on his head, but chickened out once she stood behind him. A regret she now has as the pain swells in her leg and she falls to her knee. Jake dives to retrieve the gun from under the bed. With as much strength as she can muster, Kasey hits him in the back.

Like an angry bear, he turns and lunges at her. She defends herself with the bat but Jake is faster and stronger. “You’re just like her, aren’t you?”

“No, Dad…” He takes her weapon and throws it to the side.

“Gonna be a whore too? Use men like washrags?” He shoves her to the floor, next to the bed. “Once they’re old and raggy and you can afford a new one, you just gonna throw ‘em out?” Kasey shakes her head. “Not on my watch. It stops now. You can fry next to her in Hell.”

“You know I hate her for what she did to you.”

“Shut up. You lie, just like she did.” Insanity reflects in his eyes when he wraps his fingers around her neck.

“Please, I…” are the last words she says before his thumbs crush her throat. Her years in self-defense are useless. She was taught to fend against crazed strangers, not her loving father. In a last attempt to break through to him, Kasey mouths the words, ‘Jellyfish.’ The reminder of her nickname works and his grip loosens. Kasey coughs and gasps for breath, clutching her throat and wiping tears from closed eyes.

Jake stands next to her without a word. Kasey hears the click before she realizes the revolver is in his hand again. The shot cuts the tense air and the bed squeaks when something hits it.

Kasey opens her eyes and faces her father’s blank stare. Blood dribbles across his brow. The revolver falls, with a thud, to the floor from his dying hand.


Thank you for reading and your help/advice!!

[The Tinman]

Hi Miranda. I don't have much time right now, but there were a couple of things that jumped out at me.

With eager fingertips he inspects the window’s edge and tests the latch; it’s unlocked. (Sliding it open, quietly, just an inch, like he had a hundred times before when they would play one of their lovers’ games.) This needs to be a complete sentence or reworded.

Soft music would play while she pleasured her (delicate rose). This is written from Jake's pov. Is this really what a man who later so freely thinks and uses the F-word would call this?

Overall, I liked your writing. Good Luck!!!

[Amy Lou]

Oooo Yea! Miranda, I will critique later tonight when I have more time!
Amy

[Claire Young]

I don't read steamy fiction, so I don't know if this is an example of the kind of steamy writing that publishers like.

I have difficulty writing the very beginning of my fiction, but I don't even understand your first sentence. Mud slows its escape? What does that mean?

"Delicate rose" was a bit much for me.

He seems like a crazed man with major anger issues, not a "loving father." He's ticked off royally, kills his wife, chokes his daughter and shoots himself in front of her. Loving?

I didn't get it, but maybe others will. Good luck.

Claire

[Diane Theron]

I read both parts and got lost in it. I'll leave the crit to those who do it best! But for my 5c.. good stuff.

[leslee]

Too much text for me. I prefer shorter posts. Sorry.

[David Nova]

Hi Miranda. I don't have much time right now, but there were a couple of things that jumped out at me.

With eager fingertips he inspects the window’s edge and tests the latch; it’s unlocked. (Sliding it open, quietly, just an inch, like he had a hundred times before when they would play one of their lovers’ games.) This needs to be a complete sentence or reworded.

Soft music would play while she pleasured her (delicate rose). This is written from Jake's pov. Is this really what a man who later so freely thinks and uses the F-word would call this?

Overall, I liked your writing. Good Luck!!!

Even the most articulate person might lose himself/herself if driven close enough to that brink; her writing did elude to him being crazed. Also, it might be his POV, but the writing isn't in [his] first person perspective; so I think she can take a few liberties with the descriptive language.

@Miranda: At first, I was worried that you were going to kill the little girl off (which, don't get me wrong, would have worked if this was some sort of flashback, or if a detective type character was trying to reconstruct the scene), and I'm glad to see that you didn't. Over all, I think this was an intense scene, and I like it. I'd like to see where that little girl goes from here on; I hope you expand upon this idea.

[Miranda Clementine]

Hi everyone, thank you for the responses. I don't have time for a detailed response, but I wanted to at least give a quick thank you to y'all.

[Shaun .]

Miranda - YAY BOOBS! LOL

Me likey. I get your first sentence, but do think you can better discribe the way the mud sucked to the bottom of his boots.

Delicate rose didn't bug me too much, but after fifteen years of rough sex, + kids, that thing should be able to take a beating. I don't think delicate is appropriate.

Aside from those to bits, I really liked this. If not for my headphones blaring, I would've done a Pillsbury Dough-boy impersonation with no hands.

Also, He flips open his revolver, a gift for their fifteenth anniversary, and spins its chamber.

You were close, but with revolvers, you have multiple chambers (6 is most common). These chambers are located in the cylinder/wheel, which is the piece Jake spins. (I think) wheel is slang. Much like full autos are called choppers, revolvers are called wheel guns. I'd go with cylinder.

I wish I could give you more, but ya know I still have a lot to learn. Till then, I'll be happy to offer a reader's opinion.