Essays

Lord of the Flies Project (SPOILERS)

For this project, we had to write an alternate ending for the book Lord of the Flies by William Golding. This contains SPOILERS for actual events in the book.

He watched the blood drip down his spear and it seeped deep into the grain of the wood. He felt the weight of it in his soaked hands. Ralph, for a moment, understood Jack; how the spear was much greater than the bright conch by the beach. Jack was again the one who had killed the pig, but they all had a turn prodding at it. They all received the chance to torture the creature before its blood was spilled.

He tried for their attention, "He was coming along the path. I threw, like this-" One of the boys, Robert, snarled at the others. They laughed and made mock rushes towards Robert. Jack shouted. "Make a ring!" The group moved round and round in play as they prodded him. Robert squealed in mock terror, then in real pain. "Hold him!" Ralph was carried by the excitement and jabbed his spear at Robert. "Kill him! Kill him!" Jack grabbed at the boy's hair, the others fighting to get close; his cries continuing. As the hunt concluded, their chant rose.

"Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!"

The desire to hurt was overwhelming. However, the group settled down and the ritual was finished with cheering and dying-pig noises. They then stood quietly, sweat trickled down their faces and they listened to Robert's frightened snivels; he rubbed his red skin. "Just a game," called Ralph.

"We should do this again, but, properly!"

"With a fire!"

"And a drum!"

"With a real pig!"

They were talking all at once again. "Or someone to pretend," said Jack. "Dressed up in a costume or something."

"You'll want a real pig," said Robert, still massaging his skin, "because you've got to kill him."

"Use a littlun," said Jack, and everybody laughed.

Ralph worked in silence with the other hunters. Two stabbed their spears into its flesh and struggled to hoist it onto their shoulders. Before they left, Jack bent down and circled his fingers in the thick pool of blood. He proceeded to make two marks down Ralph's face. "You're not just a chief, you're a hunter now too," he smiled with pride. Ralph opened his eyes anew. He and Jack took up the back end of the pig and marched forward with their hunters. Then the fire and its smoke rose in his mind. He turned to see the mountain impossibly far away. Shouldn't we go to the mountain? But this is much too heavy to carry on our own? Didn't I just say we'd only keep the fire on the mountain? Maybe one fire on the beach would be okay... As the group of hunters trudged along to the beach Ralph's hair was again swept into his eyes, but he did not have the strength to brush it back.

The littluns were huddled near the bathing pool. They were frightened of the night and awaited for reassurance that they would be fine. But no one was there to provide it. Piggy sat with his legs in the blue water, cradling the conch. It had been bleached white from constant exposure to the sun. Piggy noticed how fragile it appeared now. "With a few hard hits," he thought aloud, "this'll surely break." He held it closer.

A shuffling came from the trees and the littluns shuddered. Murmurs came from them:

"Is it the chief?"

"No it's the beast!"

"But it's daytime!"

"Everyone quiet!" Piggy shouted at them. They quieted reluctantly. He was still, technically, a bigun. They stared at the trees. Then a head popped out from the creepers. It was Roger. The boy's fear settled and they jumped up to help with the meat. "We need to make a fire!" Jack yelled at Piggy, "Gimme your glasses!"