OKAY!! ahem so like ms. choi is giving out extra credit if we write an alternate ending or epilogue for Lord of the Flies.. so... i have a 92.1 so fuck yeah i did it. so.. *embarrasseddd* here it is... *ahem* *dies* just wanted ot put it SOMEwhere!! -_-;; grr.. its on my myspace too... *blush* ^^:;
EPILOGUE
Ralph adjusted his watch for what seemed like the millionth time. He chuckled inwardly when he realized that all he seemed to do in the last half hour was adjust his clothing. He flattened out a crease on his buttoned shirt. His mum made him wear the dreadful thing despite the fact that he hated it most of all. All in all, he felt incredibly uncomfortable.
Was it due to the fact that he was so used to dressing like a barbarian? He frowned mentally and physically.
"Well, son?" Ralph snapped back to reality.
"Wh—what?" It took a few seconds for his mind to comprehend his surroundings. His eyes never seemed to leave his watch, however. Where in bloody hell was he?
Oh, right. He was in a government office of some sort, being questioned for some forgotten reason about who knows what. Sometimes he wished that he never admitted that he was at some point the "chief" of the island. Then again, sometimes he wished he was never Ralph at all.
"Well? Do you, or do you not know who killed the boy named Simon Elliot?" Simon. Simon. Why did that name suddenly cause a dark feeling to creep through his stomach? The question the officer asked seemed to ring in his ears over and over, haunting his inner thoughts. A part of him did not want to remember, and then the other part of him seemed to mock him with the answer. Everyone, sir. Everyone killed him. No one bothered to listen to Simon, he was too weird. Even Ralph did not want to bother listening to him, listening to reason.
Then why could he not tell this man? Ralph glanced at the name tag on the man's dark brown coat, not looking at his face. John Darcy. Why was it so hard to tell Mr. Darcy the truth? Deep inside, he knew the answer. The same answer that seemed to erupt within his abdomen as soon as he saw the naval officer for the first time on the island. The solution that swam through him like an angered sea.
He was scared. And every nerve in his body seemed to scream fear. His mind wandered back to their famous "rescue". Ralph remembered lifting his worn body into the cutter, soon followed by the others. As he sat down, he studied their faces nonchalantly. The smaller ones were chatting happily about what they would eat as soon as they arrived home, and the fame they would surely get after this slight predicament. He remembered glancing warily at Jack and the other older boys and sensing a heavy weight of fear extend from them. He remembered that clearly because he, too, was scared. He still felt it.
He sensed tears well up in his eyes, something that has been occurring routinely since he came back home. Ralph felt John Darcy stiffen uncomfortably. Wasn't he supposed to be used to young boys crying? Was he the only one? Would that make him weak? Ralph glared at his worn watch. His father gave it to him before he left on that plane ride, but he forgot to take it with him. If he had taken it with him, would things have been better on the island? Would Simon and Piggy still be alive? He glared angrily at the watch as if everything that occurred was its fault.
Ralph recalled the naval officer awkwardly trying to talk to him, the so-called "chief", asking him about what had happened. Ralph could only answer with one word responses that never seemed to make sense. As he sat there feeling the waves disturb the boat's peaceful voyage, the entire situation seemed to hit him in the back of the head like a bag of bricks. How long have they been gone? Days? Weeks? Months? His mind kept straying to the problem of explaining the deaths of Piggy and Simon. Was he to blame? Sure he was not the one to hurl the boulder at the unsuspecting Piggy, but he was the chief! He was supposed to be in control. It was his responsibility to keep everyone safe, and alive. Ralph slapped his hands on his face and clenched his teeth like he used to when he was a small child.
Piggy. Simon. Piggy. They were the only ones who actually cared about the boys' overall well being. They were the reason and hope that he—that everyone—needed. Then they were gone. Because of Jack. Because of his tribe. For all he knew they were all plotting to blame him for the murders.
Ralph shook his head. Now he was being stupid and trying to find someone to blame. Something to ease his own pain. Why was he not happy? He was home for bloody sake! A place where he could eat, play, and shower whenever he wanted to! His eyes hurt from trying to hold back his neglected tears. Was anyone else feeling this way? Was Jack or Roger in another room being asked the exact same questions? If so, they were probably answering the same way he was. By saying nothing and reminiscing about the past.
This was not good. He had to say something. Anything! If he said nothing, then no one would know the truth. No one would understand his feelings. He hated the feeling of being ignored and pushed aside.
Thinking about the past was not helping either. Those memories only seemed to fuel Ralph's anger at himself and everyone around him. However, he could not help but think about the others. How were they doing? He wondered where Jack was. He thought about the choir boys and wondered if they would ever sing again. He scoffed. Would they sing their pig chant?
Ralph adjusted the collar around his neck. He felt like he was choking slowly but surely. He was never going to wear this shirt again. His hands clenched into tight fists against the soft cotton fabric of his pants. What was he so afraid of? No one was pointing fingers at him. He would not be blamed for doing something he never committed. Ralph closed his eyes, biting back unwanted tears, and took a deep breath.
"Look son, I understand how your feeling right now. You're overwhelmed with the joy of being home and getting away from that island." If only that was true. Ralph chuckled inwardly.
"However, there were two boys who never came back from the island and we need to tell their parents what happened to their children." Mr. Darcy spoke softly, as if the slightest height of volume might cause Ralph to lose it. His eyelids parted and Ralph stared at the dull gray table with uninterested eyes. Piggy did not have parents. What would they do about that? Would his auntie ever find out the truth? All Ralph seemed to do lately was ask unattainable questions, and cry like a baby soon afterwards. He felt small and he hated it.
"Do you want to come back later? Maybe think it over. Get used to this unfamiliar situation." Mr. Darcy's voice was filled with forced kindness. Ralph was being treated as an inferior.
"No." He thought the word more than said it.
"Oh?" Ralph sensed the surprise in the man's voice. He continued staring at the table. It dawned on Ralph that he never made eye contact with the man once. He was probably afraid of the accusation he would find there. He sighed. If he never faced his fears, then all he would do is run away. If he never did what was right then his world would crumble and die. He looked up into the man's eyes with a sense of seriousness he did not remember having.
"If I were to tell you what really happened, then I would have to tell you my entire story. Hear me out and you can tell me if what I say is the truth."
-Fin-
the link to the fanfiction entry is here :
http://www.fanfiction.net/~kakexorxdeath
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