Story #23

In the game of fear, the winner is the weakest. That's what our teacher told us. When the class clown asked her who the loser is, she unhinged her jaw, grabbed the boy and bit off his head. Most of the class nervously laughed it off, but a pool of urine had already formed in my chair. I even bit down on my tongue to keep from crying. She walked up to me smiling. "Class," she announced, "It appears we have a new winner."