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Simon’s Diary

November 14th, 2006 by alexh

The sun reflected against the butterflies’ wings, sending flashes of white light into my eyes.  The cool breeze caused the grass to sway. A billowing cloud passed in front of the sun, adding an air of menace. The creepers moved in the sudden wind. Casting snake shadows.  Then as quickly it had gone the sun had returned. The shadows, as if banished by the sun, disappeared. A rustling noise drifted towards me, followed by a nervous squeal.  A sow rushed into the clearing.  She slowed, thinking she must have reached safety. Behind her trailed two spears shafts, their heads buried deep into her flank.  She cast her eyes to the sky, as if praying for redemption.  She must have known.  More rustling. This one quieter, someone or something was trying their hardest to be silent.  The sow looked on in distress.  Jack, along with his posse, burst into the clearing.  Slow motion. She still had fight left.  Again a large cloud blocked the loving warmth of the sun.  The shadows again danced in the wind.  The snakes slithering, trying to reach me.  Her heaving body was covered in adrenaline filled men. No, not men. Boys.  Young men once considered proper.  Now look at them. They stabbed her repeatedly. Again and again, the horrid sound of flesh giving way. Her squeals became more frenzied.  This seemed to drive the boys faster. Their stabbing also became a faster rhythm.  Jack drew his knife as the sun once more appeared. The metal glinting in the sun. I at once remembered our first day here. This time there was no pause.  He struck. Slicing the jugular. No feeling. Blood. One last squeal.  Death.   Jack stood.  His hands covered in the evidence of the kill. Her blood. He laughed. Once a stern but gentle laugh, now cold and malicious.  The rest joined in the uncalled for laughter.  The sow’s innards were heaped in a pile near her head.  Cut off. Her head. Stick.  She seemed to smile at me, from her new perch.  Her guts still loitered the ground, attracting flies.  Her blood ran down the stick.  She. Smiling. Talking. Whisperings. The lord of the flies.  No more butterflies.  No more sunlight. Just that smile and me.  That smile. Darkness.

 

I once again awoke. The lord of the flies, still smiling proudly, seem as if to speak. “ You are a silly little boy, just an ignorant, silly little boy.” The lord informed me.  “Don’t you agree?” I tried to answer. My swollen tongue forbidding me to speak.  Batty.   Do they really think that? Afraid yes I am afraid. I am terrified. I again tried to speak. This time putting forth audible words. “Pig’s head on a stick.”  He, the beast? The lord laughed pompously.  The sound ringing in my ears, and through out the forest. He was part of me.  The lord of the flies.  Inside all of us.   My eyelids, suddenly heavy, started to drupe. He spoke like a schoolmaster.  “This has gone quiet far enough. My poor, misguided child, do you think you know better than I do?” he paused to let that sink.  I was drifting in and out of conciseness.  “ I’m warning you. I’m going to get angry. D’you see?  You’re not wanted. Understand? We are going to have fun on this island! So don’t try it on, my poor misguided boy, or else…” I was almost there. Almost at the edge. I looked up into the vast mouth of the lord of the flies.   That mouth. That smile. I was now inside.  There I was at the brink of losing control, and I fell into a deep sleep.  With sunlight falling all around me.  Flies gorging themselves on the lord of the flies’ innards.   Its there that I woke at dusk that very same night.

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