Sylvia Plath Oven Novels & Stories

Chapter 38. *.* "Do not just stand there and mope, come on, get on with it! The oven would not heat itself, neither would the work!" Oscar yelled at them. He walked to a corner and continued smoking the cigarette he was holding as it was almost burnt. Willow was still marveling at the big oven, the heat in the cave was so unbearable. She wondered how they were able to manage. The zombies went about as some went to add heat and coal to the oven. Willow could not understand what they were doing. But she saw that they were melting metals.

The morning light invaded Savanah's kitchen, relentless and clear. It was a space that resembled a laboratory or a minimalist art gallery more than a place where food was prepared. Everything was stainless steel, matte black granite, and unobstructed surfaces. The glass jars aligned with millimetric precision in the pantry held spices that looked like geological samples, not ingredients. Not a knife was out of place, nor a stain on the polished concrete floor. It was the realm of absolute control, a physical extension of Savanah's own mind.

Odell stretched out his hand, wanting to take away the things in Sylvia’s hands. However, Sylvia’s reflexes were quick. She quickly hid the carving knife and the half-finished carving behind her back before she stared at him watchfully. It was as if she was afraid he would step on her carvings again. Odell felt a knot in his throat and did his best to suppress his emotions. “Just put your things down and go have lunch.” “I’m not hungry.” “You’ll eat even if you’re not hungry!” Odell suddenly shouted. Sylvia frowned before putting her carving knife and the half-finished carving into a small bag that was hanging off the side of the wheelchair.

Her feet were immediately released from the pressure of being in the tight space of her heels the whole day and the moment they made contact with the cool surface of the floor, a satisfied feeling surged all over her skin. She strolled towards her living room and placed her handbag on the couch before making her way towards the kitchen. She opens the fridge and was in the mood to microwave some leftovers for dinner but there was barely anything edible inside. Making a reminder to herself to do some grocery shopping this week, she searched through her pantries and her eyes lit up excitedly when she spot her baking ingredients on the shelf. Sylvia has a passion for baking. Her love for pastrie

It had the same pristine look as Sylvia’s house, so clean that no one would believe anyone actually lived here. I hadn’t yet run into her mom, who was neck-deep in crime and hooked on wolfsbane. Olive insisted I’d never meet her, but I couldn’t help but feel curious about the woman. She clearly had a taste for expensive art if the paintings, sculptures, and exquisite vases were any indicator. Olive pulled a water from the fridge, shoved it in my hands, and instructed me to drink. I would’ve, but I was much more interested in the bottles of liquor she began pulling out of the pantry.

Jennifer would pay for being a home wrecker. She went inside and gathered a group of candles, oil, perfume, powder, incense, crystals, roots, herbs, dried flowers and took them into the kitchen. The candles were placed on the kitchen table. She took a large cast iron Dutch Oven and placed in on the large eye of the stove. She filled the oven with roots, herbs, dried flowers, and oil. She threw a light match into the oven to burn the items. The items became ashes in the bottom of the oven. She sprinkled the perfume over the ashes, and they began to sizzle. A smoke filled the oven. She took the powder and poured it into the oven. The smoke disappeared into the air.

A bird sitting on it would break it. Just ahead, a small worn down building stood in a little opening. It looked like a wooden shack with some broken cinderblocks around it. The tiniest windows lined the top of the walls with metal doors. “They are in there.” My heart raced as I took a step and stopped. “Ladies first.” I muttered. Lilith rolled her eyes and sighed but walked forward. Grabbing the oven mit, she opened the doors. I gave her a questioning look. “They are lined with acid.”