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Title: Grim realisation

by Jessica from Hampshire and Isle of Wight | in writing, fiction

The silent journey was occupied by painful reflection, amid the relentless roar of the beast beneath the safety of the cruiser. Sunlight danced across the surface of the waves in an irregular pattern of satisfying glimmers, effortlessly attracting the weary, solemn eyes owned by every boy. Over and over the events seemed a dream, an obscured reality that stretched far beyond the capabilities of the young and innocent. Permanently affixed in his mind was the image of the murderous, savage creatures that had once inhabited the island. The wild, untamed beings that were cleverly disguised as boys, had become unleashed as easily as the unstoppable temptation for a flame to cause destruction to nature.

He gazed lifelessly into the distance. Every feature he focused upon had a memory firmly attached to it: Where the first few days and nights of unity had existed, the beach was now bare. Where hope of the fire would attract rescue, the mountain just remained. The bloodstained rocks' Piggy'Simon. An unjustified loss of misunderstood and unappreciated wisdom, truth, friendship.

Now directing focus to the others, he looked at each with much consideration. Every scratch upon the little'uns marked a violation to a young life. The older ones bore multiple injuries. Each torn piece of flesh represented a chilling experience of torture, or conflict with each other. Then, who sat trembling with cold and repulsion of his actions, there was Jack, still masked with the savage identity by the markings upon his face. He stared at Jack for a moment, unsure what to think. No feeling, no emotion towards him could be felt. Staring at a figure who indeed bore a significance upon the island as a result of misused authority, now slumped defencelessly amongst the others; now, as he always was, in an equal position to every other life around him.

A light-headed sensation filtered through his body. A dizziness overcame him, causing the island, the faces, and the sea to blend together in one blurred state. For the first time, in what seemed like months, he was able to let go of life and, with much earned relief, shutdown his mind.

Ralph awoke, feeling as though he had been in a deep sleep for a few days. It took only a second after waking for the grim realisation of the recent events to rush back to him. Now in familiar surroundings, he scanned the room; the smell of boiling vegetables, the sound of busy footsteps in the kitchen, the sight of the broken chair leg that his father had promised to fix when he came back. A warm feeling of comfort was brought to Ralph. Seemingly minor aspects of life that represent a normal, repetitive routine, yet those that embeds the soul with a permanent reminder of your existence in the world. He slowly made his way out of bed, heading towards the kitchen. Opening the door, he peered around the room, and he was filled with delight. He was clutching the warm body of his mother, whilst failing to hold back the involuntary tears that streamed down his cheeks. They could both sense the feeling that this did not happen very often, and that this was a moment to be valued dearly.
'I was so worried''
'I am just glad to be home'safe.'
Although silence followed, there was a mutual understanding of the need for it. Ralph sat down and ate the vegetable stew with relish. The island had drifted from his mind, leaving him to eat and enjoy the comforting company of his mother. He had just noticed that he was clothed in clean garments, probably placed on him after the return from the journey home. In a strange way, Ralph felt appreciation for the fact that he had fallen unconscious on the cruiser. To wake up in his home without the struggle of returning home, and the awkwardness of departure from the rest of the boys, he was extremely grateful.

His mother left the room, and Ralph was left with the irrational feeling of abandonment. He was now staring dreamily into the bottom of the empty bowl before him, stroking the bottom rhythmically with the tongue-polished spoon. Ralph was now in thought of the island. The lost lives and the struggle to live was in the forefront of his memory. Although now, the comfort of his home caused him to feel as if the experience was deep in the past, he made a conscious decision to always remember Piggy and Simon. However, the sense of pain and torment had been lost, as Ralph had the determined desire to not dwell on the suffering anymore. He continued to stroke the bowl up'and down'up'and down like the monotonous action of the waves breaking up the beach, and returning to the sea.

'There is someone here to see you, Ralph.'
'Oh. I really do not feel up to seeing anyone. Could they return later please, mother?'
As if Ralph's words were not acknowledged, a tall, slim figure appeared at the doorway. The weak, tired, war-wounded man stood with dignity, opened armed before the boy who was now in tears of immense happiness.

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As part of cousework, it was our task to write a 'chapter 13' to the novel 'Lord of the flies'. I was really pleased with the end result!

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