=Dialogue from Lord of the Flies by William Golding=
ALL CHARACTERS AND MOST DIALOGUE USED BELONGS TO WILLIAM GOLDING
The sound of the conch blew from the west side of Castle Rock. My back stiffened at the hollow, penetrating sound, and I took up my spear in one hand. Knowing it was Ralph, I was hesitant about going down to investigate. The way he stands there, like he's better than me...more attractive, a better leader...I knew all of these things. I just chose to deny them. I knew deep in my heart that the smoke signal was more important than hunting, but I was too hurt by Ralph not being pleased that I pretended to shrug it off.
That was when it had all gone wrong. The fire symbolized many things...friendship, teamwork, rescue. But it also symbolized destruction - the way it had engulfed half of the island from tree to tree that time long ago.
I couldn't determine my feelings for Ralph - I was baffled. There was the friendship, and the good-heart. But...a fire raged deep inside of me, burning with envy against him. I was hurt that they had chosen him as leader over me, hurt that no one would take my side. Except Roger.
Is it strange that even surrounded by my group of followers, I am always alone? Roger seemed fun and interesting at the time we bonded during the first hunt. He did whatever I told him too, and made me feel important, like no one else did. But I slowly started to realize that Roger had a craving for not only pig blood...but human blood.
He would ramble on and on about tearing things apart. He'd look at the other kids and whisper the disturbing thoughts he had of torturing them - burning them, watching them suffer. Everyone thought I had that in me, that I was strong, and able to do those things myself. But all I could do while listening to him was nod my head and act interested. The very presence of Roger scares me now, and I think he's noticed. He's gotten a bit attached to me and I fear for my life as I go on pretending we're best mates.
As I walked towards where Ralph, Samneric, and Piggy would surely be...I look around and notice that everyone seems a stranger. Like I don't belong with these - these beasts. I think Simon was right about us, that we're all monsters and there really isn't a beast. But I had to manipulate them to join me in some way. As I walked closer and closer down the rock, Roger caught up with me.
"Hey - did you hear the conch? Bloody oaf thinks it actually still works." he chuckles. I return a fake, half-hearted chuckle.
"When I see that scrawny blonde boy's face...I'm going to cave it in with my bare fist!!! Hahahahaaa!!!!" He laughed yet again, holding his hand up for a high five. My arm hesitated. Roger knit his eyebrows.
"Come on, Merridew, what's gotten into you, mate?" I stared at the cold ground made out of stone and stopped completely. I needed to gain strength, and couldn't see me be weak. They couldn't see me like this. As the minutes rolled by, we stood there, side by side - the wind blowing our untamed hair all about. When Roger had mentioned Ralph I began to remember what it had been like. Ralph and I, two birds of a feather, working together - building something to get us rescued. A nice, big fire! All by ourselves! It was wizard! But then the reasons I loathed him came intruding into my train of thought. I tried to shake them off, to stay myself, but the savage in me won.
"Nothing...nothing at all. I just hope those pansies aren't thinking they can actually come back and get their precious glasses back." I replied. Roger grinned.
"Don't worry...he won't get them back. I'll make sure after today he won't be needing them at all."
"Who...Piggy? Roger, don't, seriously, man. We can just deal with them by making them join the tribe..."
"Wuss!!! What is it with you, you've changed! Why, the other night you wouldn't even join me in a hunt! Wanted to go alone yourself. Look here. I saw you the other night - you were crying, sobbing! You were a mess!!! What in the bloody hell is wrong with you, mate?!" My mouth hung open and I became fearful, as that same beastly wandered into his eyes. He stared directly at me, his irises crimson, pupils dialated, high with thoughts of pain.
