The teacher strode across the front of the room, looking out at her class. 

“Recently, we have been living in a great abundance,” she began.  

“Now, one doesn’t have to worry about wasting material. A replacement to whatever is broken will come immediately. We have finally achieved true prosperity.” 

She strutted over to the bookshelf at the right corner of the class, and removed a dictionary. 

“Cindy, can you stand up at the front of the class here for a moment?” she asked. A tall young woman with pale skin stood up at her desk in the third row and navigated through the aisles to get to the front. 

“Perfect, thank you, Cindy. Stand right where you are,” the teacher continued. She stepped to the immediate left of the young woman, and with a single motion, ripped the cover off the dictionary. 

Cindy screeched. Her face began to melt and warp, twisting, snapping in agonizing detail. Her skin stretched and contracted, bending in two opposite directions, all whilst being presided over by her screaming. And that scream! The screaming didn’t break until her face ripped open, at which point it dribbled into a low guttural gurgling! Unendingly, her wailing persisted, hanging onto the ears of all present, forcing its way inside, never relinquishing its grip on their minds. Her skull spattered into thousands of thin pages, legion in number. The sides of her face pinched inwards, flattening themselves into two rigid covers, and her long brunette hair peeled off of her head in a sick rain. Two small fleshy objects hit the oak hardwood floor.  They were her eyeballs. 

The young woman’s body slumped, and then crumpled onto the floor. Soaked with blood, her cadaver was surprisingly intact- almost.  

Above her neckline, there was no face, but rather a book. 

The teacher bent over, and tore the book off of the neck of Cindy. A sloppy belch sprayed blood onto the floor, and then the body was still. She then stood up and brushed off a rose-colored film with her right hand. The class gasped in amazement- On the cover, one could clearly make out the word “Dictionary.” 

“Now if you will turn to page six in your study guide, we can begin to discuss how the modern manufacturing process works,” the teacher said in a giddy tone. The class obeyed and pulled out their notebooks while the teacher slid the dictionary into the shelf. 

Written by The Minister of Fear
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