[FICTION]

[10/20/25]

Sculpting

by Huina Zheng

When our class ranked last among the five sections in the midterms, Teacher Wang opened her mouth and her words turned to chisels. Her curses had always carried the power to shape us. The first blow struck my deskmate, the lowest scorer. A fissure split her temple, molten matter spilling down to reveal a hollow volcano within. Her skull held no room for thought. Another flash, and the blade caught the dunce in the back row. He snorted as his nose stretched upward, nostrils flaring, while his ear cartilage creaked into two broad fans. When his lips tore back to the gums, the transformation was complete: his true form, a pig. Soon the room resounded with animal noises. I counted: twenty restless monkeys, ten foolish donkeys, three squirrels with bushy tails jammed in desk drawers, one clutching the “Hall Monitor” badge with trembling paws.

I lowered my eyes to my perfect exam paper, thinking myself spared. Four other top scorers still bore human faces, but their glassy eyes clicked with tiny gears. In the window’s reflection, my own irises gleamed with the same mechanical chill. The teacher’s blade had already carved me too.

HUINA ZHENG holds an M.A. with Distinction in English Studies and works as a college essay coach. Her stories have been published in Baltimore Review, Variant Literature, Midway Journal, and other reputed publications. Her work has been nominated thrice for both the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net. She resides in Guangzhou, China with her family.