Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-17384134-20150916105248/@comment-25148755-20151105035626

Here you go. This should meet the quality standards. Good story idea!

My name is Joe and I'm a med student. I'm about to start my second year, and I'm really excited because this year we start dissections. It's not like I'm a psychopath who can't wait to dig his hands into human flesh, but more that I'm looking forward to a change from the theoretical classes that take up all of the first year.

A few weeks into the term, today is finally the day. There are forty of us in the class, all wearing brand new lab coats, a dissection kit in one pocket and a handfull of silicon gloves in the other. We have already broken down into ten groups of four. I'm with three friends of mine: Nicolas, Benoit and Thomas. We are waiting in the hall outside of the dissection room.

Right on time, the professor opens the door and asks us to make a semi-circle around him so he can give the instructional brief. Entering the room, we are given our first view of the corpses. Ten tables are arranged in two rows, each with a vaguely human form lying on it, covered by a tarpaulin. The professor gives his instructions, assigns each group a table and tells us to begin the procedure.

My group has the sixth table. We respectfully remove the tarpaulin and look at our corpse. He's a white male in his sixties, a little bit fat, and still has his admission wristband from the Hospital where he died. We can read that his name is "Maurice".

Benoit jokingly says that Maurice should have done more exercise. We all laugh as we pick up our scalpels to start the dissection. Nicolas makes the first cut. Suddenly, while he is trying to separate the skin from the fat, the corpse grabs his arm, lunges at him and tears at his throat with its mouth. Nicolas's screams are quickly drowned in gurgles of blood. The rest of us stand frozen, horrified, not knowing what to do.

I wake up in my bed, sweaty and shaking. Even though I know it was only a nightmare, I won't be able to sleep any more tonight. I wish I could because dissections start tommorrow.

The next day we are gathered in front of the dissection room waiting for the professor. He opens the doors right on time and asks us to make a semi-cercle around him. As he is giving his instructions, I notice that the room is exaclty like in my dream. I don't have to listen to him: I already know that we will get assigned table six.

Table six it is. I'm frightened. It's idiotic but I can't help thinking about my dream. Part of me wants to run away screaming, but instead I follow my friends to our table. Thomas asks me to help him remove the tarpaulin. I'm shaking as we pull the sheet away from the still form it covers. I recognize Maurice, down to his admission wristband. Benoit says that Maurice should have done more exercise. My friends all laugh. I don't.

Nicolas takes his scalpel and bends over the corpse. I watch him, paralyzed with terror. I know what's coming next.