Miss Edwards, the most terrifying person I have ever come across. I still get a tightening in my gut recalling her. I was eight she was eighty, or so I thought, back then. Miss Edwards, short, fat, bun tight at back of head. Lover of the wooden ruler, used on the knuckles, the rictus of joy when a child cried tears of pain, and our fear as it flickered towards us like a snake’s tongue. I developed a stammer. It still catches me, my throat tensing in moments of nervousness. A psychopath? Who knows. I never trusted any teacher after her.
The Teacher
