COME ALONG | lord of the flies

[ 𝗶𝗶𝗶 ] 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁?

the warmth of the plane was relieving, despite being sat so close to the doors. the airport was far too cold. so cold that cara never had the chance to 'lose' her hideous coat. as we were currently the only people on the plane, aside from a mother and her child and the elderly woman from earlier, it was peaceful again.

the baby's cooing and giggles put a smile on my glossed lips, reminding me of when cara was that age. "was i that noisy when i was a baby?" she giggled. "you were one hundred times louder," I smiled.

"do you girls need anything? something to drink maybe?" susan smiled sweetly, her hands resting above her knees as she squatted to meet our eyes.
i shook my head politely, "no, thank you."

"well, you let me know if you two need anything, sweetheart." she straightened up and i said a quiet thank you. slowly, more people began to board the plane, business men with impeccable posture and crisp suits. women with smudged make-up or power suits. people returning home from their holidays, elderly women going to visit grandchildren.

i glanced at the open seat to my right, wondering who i'd have the pleasure of sitting next to. the military school boys entered, laughing and talking loudly. i would've thought children being sent to military school would be a tad more civilised.

they took up a good chunk of the plane seats, all crowding together. the plane wasn't full, due to it being a red-eye flight and i was relieved. planes always made cara and i feel slightly claustrophobic.

a small boy with a deep purple birthmark on his cheek sat down beside me, he only looked to be around six. "hello," i let a small smile on to my face. "i'm marilyn and this is my sister, cara." cara waved vigorously, beaming like a madman. "h-hi. i'm george."

the small, ginger boy looked up at me. his green eyes were worried, his eyebrows furrowed. "do you like flying?" he shook his head. "no, but my mom usually holds my hand so it isn't so scary. the other boys always make fun of me though."

a small pout crossed his round face, "do you want to hold my hand?" i offered. he thought for a moment before nodding slightly and taking my hand in his clammy one. "you'll be okay, don't worry," i reassured him, rubbing my thumb along the back of his hand.

he seemed to relax after the plane took off. he eventually let go of my hand and sat contently with a lollipop. cara even made us swap seats so the two of them could talk. "marilyn, i need the toilet." she hissed loudly. "me too. are you okay waiting here george?"

"i need to go too," he whispered. the three of us stumbled down the aisle, both of them trying to stand on either side of me. i was so occupied with what they were saying i walked right into someone.

just my luck, i thought as i began to apologise. "oh my gosh, i am so- oh, it's you." i grimaced. jack merridew stood there, a smirk on his face. "ah, mon etoile, ca va?"

"bof," i shrugged. "s'écarter, sil vous plait." his smirk grew wider, "you speak french?" i rolled my eyes. "fantastic, you really are so observant."

"where'd you learn?" he questioned as i shoved past him. "school." i replied simply. "i see you've met mulberry boy, so no introductions needed." i frowned at him. "his name is george."

"is it? hm, i didn't know." he leaned against the plane wall. "mar, can you hold the door shut please?" my sister asked as she entered the bathroom. i nodded in return.

"are you just going to stand there and stare at me?"
i narrowed my eyes. "yep." i heard the toilet flush and the tap run before cara exited. "george, your turn. want me to hold the door?"

"yes, please." jack stayed there, his eyes boring into me. cara went back to our seat to check her magazine was still there, so it was just the two of us.

finally, the ginger boy had finished in the bathroom. "are you gonna leave now? or do want to come in with me?" i offered, sarcastically. "i mean, if you're offering," he pushed himself forward off the wall.

"fuck you." i spat, slamming the door behind me. "but we've just met! i don't even know your favourite colour," his voice was muffled through the door, but i could tell he had a shit eating grin on his smug face.

(𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬!:

𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 🥲

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬,

-𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐱)