Nitpickings

Nathan was new to this writing group, they didn't know him from Adam. Adam maybe the type of person who could take their work being slated, but not Nathan - he didn't appreciate such criticism. He smiled and nodded away though, like one of those nodding dogs sometimes found on car dashboards, while internally calculating how slowly and painfully each of these pompous fools would die.
     "Just a small nitpick," Jim, the group's organiser, had begun, and then proceeded to rip his whole piece to shreds, pausing only for brief moments to allow the others to chime in their agreement that Nathan's efforts were a load of crap. "This bit could be structured better." "That bit could do with more dialogue." "Show, don't tell."
     'Oh I'll show you people', Nathan thought through his fake plastered smile, 'not to diss the Nath'.
     Ten minutes of being made to feel the size of a nit later, this barrage of dissing finally ceased, and, with all eyes on him for him now to speak, Nathan, not knowing what words he could possibly respond with to all that, simply said, "Thanks."
     "It did have a few bits of good dark humour though," Emily, the group's treasurer, spoke up now. This would have spared her her life had she omitted the 'though'.
     "Well if that's all the feedback for Nathan, we'll move on," Jim said briskly, "Sue..."
     "Right you are," said 'Sue', shuffling the papers in front of her like a newsreader and then reaching for her spectacles.
     Nathan was so enraged inside from what had just transpired that he zoned out from the very first word of whatever it was she might be reading. All he could see was red - their spilled blood flowing like the ink on paper during his previous night's creative burst. Penning the mini masterwork that they had collectively demolished. One of them had even spoken out loud during his reading of it, commenting, at the bit where his character, named Nathan after himself, massacres his similarly condescending writing group, "I hope that isn't going to happen to us lot!" That chump, 'Harry', was going to feel his wrath and vengeance the worst.
     In full accordance with the dark magick he practiced, where being free to harm others and not be punished for this by the cosmos if letting them know his intentions in advance, Nathan had given his victims 'fair warning' what was going to happen to them if they behaved like his last writing group had, yet still they had gone ahead and done just that. Not taking him seriously. Belittling and dissing both his writing and him. Like those northern know-it-alls, or thought-they-knew-it-alls, had done before he'd taught them their 'too late to learn from in what had remained of their lives' lesson in politeness and respect. The nerve of one of those, deriding him for using overly long sentences! That little gimp had died an overly long and lingering death, watching all of his writing buddies dying their brutal deaths before him. Nathan had moved south after that. To fictionalise his story, his self named character had moved from the east to the west.
     "Show not tell...", "The piece could use more dialogue...", "I think it could be restructured like this...", they were now all turning on Sue. Lions on the attack - ravaging her writing also. So at least what he had endured hadn't been anything personal against him, Nathan considered, not that this made things any better. He didn't feel too sorry for Sue, as she had joined the other lions when they'd been attacking his writing and him. This writing group was just as cold as the world 'out there'. He had been foolish to expect different from writer artists, especially after that last lot. Sue seemed to be genuinely grateful for this 'feedback' however - her "Thank you," far more realistically convincing than his had been.
     "Well if that's all the feedback for Sue, we'll take a break now and resume in ten minutes," said Jim, and chairs squeaked against the Duck and Goose's upstairs room floor as everyone got up at the same time to stampede towards either the bar, toilet or smoking area. Nathan opted for toilet, taking his big rucksack with him, filled to capacity with the weapons for a repeat massacre in an event such as this. Fortunate to make it to a free cubicle before the others, he locked himself inside that and unzipped his bag, taking out the first implement of suffering and loss of life to hand, a ninja star, glistening like new after his wiping off all the mess and blood from its previous use.
     Unfortunately for Nathan, whilst zoning out from Sue's reading those few moments ago, he'd missed an interesting short story from her about a witch who got upset when she was ignored - who punished people for doing this, putting them under spells where they couldn't ignore her before eventually killing them, using 'fair warning magick' (fair if the words were heard, whether listened to or not) to be able to get away with this. On exiting the gents with his weapons of mass destruction at the ready, Sue was the first person he ran into stood outside there.
     "Hi," she blinked her eye lashes behind the reading glasses she had forgotten to take off since her reading. Eyes green. Vast. He was hypnotised. Wow, she was stunning. How could he not have noticed this before? So what if she'd joined the others in having a go at his writing? All was forgiven. Nathan regretted drifting off in his thoughts during her reading and not having given it and her his full undivided attention. She had this from him now.
     All was not forgiven by her however. After just a few seconds of keeping him captivated under this 'unable to ignore her' spell, she drew a large knife from within her coat pocket and plunged it deep into his chest.
     "Pay more attention to people when they're reading their writing out next life, eh." Sue said to him as she pushed his stunned, stabbed, body back through the door of the gents, where it crashed into a lifeless slump in the cubicle that he had vacated, "It's really rude not to. Not wishing to nitpick your character, just saying, like."