Dying For an Education

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

“And you’ll see where the head of the femur fits into the acetabulum of the innominate bone it forms what kind of articulation?”

Standing next to a hanging human skeleton, John Hixon paused, waiting patiently. He’d taught high school science for over 20 years and was used to the blank, disinterested stares from his class.

“Anyone?”

More silence.

“Heather, I know we’ve covered this. What kind of articulation do we see in the hip?”

Heather Langdon stared wide-eyed at the man in front of her, her bottom lip quivering. She said nothing.

Hixon was starting to lose his patience. “They don’t appreciate what I’m trying to teach them,” he thought angrily. “All these years of putting up with teenage crap and for what?”

Patience gone, he stormed across the basement floor to the pretty teenage girl dressed in only a tattered bra and panties. The zip ties that secured her hands and feet to the rough wooden chair held firm. He leaned in close to her tear-streaked face.

“Now Heather,” he began, trying to compose himself. “If you don’t answer my questions, the next girl I bring down here will have to answer them using YOUR skeleton instead of Alexa’s.”

Fourteen girls unwillingly took Mr. Hixon’s summer school that year. None of them graduated.

[This is my entry this week into the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. A photo prompt is given and writers are encouraged to create a short story of 100 – 150 words, + or – 25 words. I went over again this week and I apologize. I just had too much fun with this story to reduce it any more.]

~V