Hello everyone, how's this apocalypse treating you? Not quite apocalypse-y enough for your taste? Then how about some post-apocalyptic AU.
Haha, but really, I have no idea what I'm doing. This is just an idea that wouldn't leave me alone, and now it's a story. So I guess we'll see where this goes. Because it's not like I don't have enough things to work on at the moment or anything.
Chapter 1 – Cold
It was always cold here. Waking down the street, the small, black haired boy didn't really think much about this fact, despite the way his old, torn clothes wouldn't have held in much heat at all, and even as the thin frosting of snow and ice crunched underneath his feet.
It was a constant in his life at the moment, so much so that he couldn't remember what it felt like to not be constantly cold. He noticed the temperature now only when it got particularly bad, when strong winds carrying sleet would gush through the broken windows of the shambled building he was currently staying in during the night, or when he'd end up standing for too long in the slushy ice, the liquid seeping into his old shoes and causing his feet to go numb.
Other than that though, the freezing temperatures almost felt natural to him. He couldn't think of a time without them. It was like asking a fish if it was wet.
The black haired boy stopped, looking back over his shoulder at what he'd thought had been the sound of someone else walking along the old street. Frowning in confusion, there wasn't anything there, the street completely empty.
Shaking his head, he turned back around and continued down the street. It was going to get dark soon, so he needed to get back to the others. It wasn't a good idea to stay outside after it got dark, but he couldn't remember why exactly that was. They just… the dark was bad; the setting sun was already making him hear things that weren't there, after all.
He hadn't meant to stay out this long or go this far, but he had a wonderful habit of losing track of time. Thankfully at least, he wasn't the only one to have this problem. It was hard, after all, with no working clocks and no way to really be able to tell exactly where the sun was. There was always a film of grey clouds in the sky, blocking their view.
He couldn't remember when it hadn't been like that. None of them could, really.
There had been a time like that though, right? A time before the cold and the clouds and no sun.
The others all thought he was batty.
By the time he reached the looming stone steps of their… home? It felt more like a hideout, any light filtering in through the clouds was basically gone, the street shrouded in darkness. Taking the steps slowly (he'd tripped and fallen plenty of times before in the daylight, he wasn't going to chance something like that happening in the dark like this) he could see a figure standing up by the entrance at the top. One of the great wooden doors still worked, opening and closing on its hinges with relative ease, if not a bit heavy for any one of them to move on their own. The other was perpetually open, the top hinge having snapped long before any of them had started staying here.
As he got closer, he was able to make out just who it was, the thin, pale form dotted with freckles and bright red hair easily giving it away.
"Simon!" the older boy's voice hissed, his anger evident. Even as Simon stared down at his feet, shrinking back in fear, he wasn't surprised. Jack was always angry.
"What do you think you're doing, coming back here so late? We won't go looking for you if you go missing you know!" he yelled, and just barely Simon managed to nod, attempting to keep from stuttering out his answer.
"I know… I just lost track of time is all," he muttered. Jack was still glaring at him, before snorting at his response and rolling deep blue eyes.
"Whatever. You're batty, going out like that. I don't even know why we let you stay here sometimes," he said, turning around to head back inside. The younger boy ignored the comments, far too used to being called batty to care, and knowing that even if he did come back late, they weren't going to kick him out. Jack was difficult at times, yes, but he wouldn't stoop so low as condemning someone to their death.
Or well, at least Simon hoped that he wouldn't. He had his doubts sometimes though.
"Oh, and there isn't any food left. Come back earlier next time and you might get some," Jack told him offhandedly, before splitting away from the younger boy without a second thought. Even though he wasn't looking at him anymore Simon nodded, before starting over to the little section of their hide-away home that he liked to consider his.
The inside of the building was really rather large, definitely enough space to house the small group of boys who lived there, and then some, if any more were ever to come. The others never thought about that happening though. There wasn't anybody else in… in as far as Simon or any one of them had gone. It almost seemed like they were the only people left in the world at times.
Simon hoped dearly that wasn't actually the case.
Even though the place was large, there weren't many rooms at all. In actuality, it was mainly just one huge room, although there was one smaller one up in the front that Jack had long ago clamed for himself.
In the main room, there was a long walkway down the center, with row after row of these long, wooden benches that were attached to the floor, so that they couldn't move them any. On the walls, most of the windows had blown out, but unlike all of the buildings around them, this one had black iron rods creating spider webs of patterns throughout them, and the pieces of glass that were left you could just tell under the dirt and grime hadn't been clear, but dyed strange colors instead for some reason. Tall columns stood in between the two main sections of benches and two smaller wings off to the side, also filled with the rows of the same seating.
There were these little open boxes attached to the backs of these, so that the people sitting behind them could use the boxes to put thing in. They weren't very big though, so you couldn't put much. Simon always wondered if there had been something specific that used to go in there, but of course none of them knew.
Up in the front there was another area that jutted back, which was where the doorway to Jack's room was. The door had long since disappeared, if it had ever been there to begin with.
Besides that, the only thing else notable up front was a large stone table, which was currently empty. A few of the boys were actually sitting on top of it now, talking leisurely. Jack was up there now as well, from the looks of it leading the conversation, although Simon couldn't hear what they were talking about.
Most of the others were sitting on the benches though, since it was better than standing and there was no way all of them could attempt to fit on the table. Simon did spot one of them laying on the step way up to the front area though, staring up at the ceiling, deep brown eyes that almost looked red in the right light flickering across the wooden boards that held it up, almost seeming like he was counting them or something like that.
None of this was of any surprise to Simon, who quietly made his way over to the back of one of the wings, going all the way to the end of the bench so that when he pulled his legs up he could lean against the wall. No one had taken any notice to him coming in late, which was good. He didn't particularly like too much extra attention on himself.
There were only eight of them all together, including Simon. Enough for them to be able to get by if they all put in a half-decent effort. They didn't have to talk to each other or even particularly care about each other, as long as they were capable enough to help get food and odd bits and ends of clothing and such. Just the things they needed to survive.
Of course, most of the boys did in fact talk to each other, and Simon did care about the others enough to want to make sure they were all okay. He just preferred to keep to himself. Roger, still lying on the stairs and counting the ceiling boards was a lot like that too. And Simon assumed that he did care about them all as well, since he was always there to help whenever Jack ordered them around.
Jack, the de facto leader of their odd little group. Simon wasn't too sure how that had come about, but it was probably just a simple case of Jack just deciding he would be leader, so that was what happened and no one asked any questions. It wasn't really smart to get into an argument with him anyway.
The way the redhead acted concerned Simon sometimes, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go, and he was sure that deep down Jack wasn't really a bad person. Just abrasive and loud and very self-conscious, but if you told him that last thing he'd probably hit you.
A large gust of wind seemed to shake the walls, bits of falling snow coming in through the broken windows and landing on Simon, although the boy barely noticed them. It was always cold here, after all, and the bits of ice water seeping through his thin clothes where the snow was now melting weren't anything new at all.
Lying down on the bench, Simon pulled a worn, hole-filled blanket out from underneath where he sat and covered himself with it, closing in eyes and attempting to get some sleep. Even though it was dark, it wasn't particularly late, but there wasn't anything else for him to do, and if he stayed up he would just get hungry.
Clutching the blanket as tight to himself as he could, the black haired boy curled up into a ball, his hands up by his face so that he could attempt to breathe a bit of life back into the numb fingers.
It was always so cold here, and even though it seemed like everyone else had forgotten, Simon tried to remember what it actually felt like to be warm. Even if the others thought him batty for it.
Annnnd there. Yay the choir. But where's Ralph, you say? And Piggy? And Samneric and the bunches of lilluns? You'll find out as soon as I do, because seriously I have no idea where this is going. I just asked Simon what was going on with him, and this is what he told me.
I do hope you enjoyed so far though. First time writing Lord of the Flies, so let's just see where this takes me. Fun fun fun.
Well, thanks for reading, and please review.