Like Flies to Honey
Chapter 1
This was what you wanted, Ralph told himself. You chose to do it. Yet the grim thought of what he was about to do kept telling him to change his mind. He forced himself forward, climbing the stone stoop with renewed determination. It was his first night in England since he'd been on the island, and he was determined to set things right from the start. The sparkling stars and clear open sky above the country home had no effect on Ralph-all he could do was focus on the task ahead.
The trip back from the island had been long and uneventful compared with the regrettable events that would forever stain those sandy shores. It had given him time to do a lot of things: time to bathe, to eat, and to sleep, but most of all it had given him time to think. There was much to think about, thoughts which might take years to sort out. But one thing had already been running through his mind since the boat left for home a few days ago. Piggy, good, wise, kindhearted Piggy, would never get home. Piggy was dead.
That was the thought that left him here now, knocking on an old wooden door. A woman called down in a familiarly different accent. "The door's open! I'll be down." The door creaked open with a loud groan, and the smell of fresh baked apple pie was all through the farmhouse. On one side of the entryway was a large mirror, and he looked at himself in it.
Something had changed about him. Yes, those were still the same eyes and the same blonde hair. It was still the same body, which he always thought was not nearly as trim as everyone said. But there was something different-something wilder, scarier. Something, he thought, that made him want to look away more and more each time he took a glance.
The entryway opened up on a large kitchen with bright lights on the ceilings and baked treats scattered along the counters. There were chocolate chip cookies, cakes, pies, fresh loaves of bread, and many other foods all neatly inlaid among clusters of kitchen utensils. It really was an amazing place. Ralph considered snatching up a cookie or two, thought better of it, and took a seat at the dining table.
Who are you doing this for? He wondered to himself. For Piggy? For her? Or was it just to get rid of the guilt that was gnawing away at him? He didn't have time to decide before a cheery woman stepped into the room.
"Who are you?" She questioned, staring at Ralph curiously. After feeling fairly confident in himself the whole time, it surprised him that he froze up when he finally came face to face with his decision.
"Ralph," he replied, his throat getting dry. Time to grow up a little, he told himself. "My name's Ralph. I came to tell you something about your nephew."
"Piggy?"
"You call him that?"
"Well why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know, I guess I just always assumed his family called him by his real name."
"Well, I was first to call him that as a cute little nickname, but it seems the boys at school caught onto it at some point and teased him. I do feel bad- how do you know him anyway? Are you a friend from school? You should know he's not home."
Ralph could tell by her expression that she knew he was gone for much longer than he should have been. She tried to hide her worry behind those happy eyes, but he could see right through the disguise.
"I'm not a friend from school, but I did come about Piggy an' I knew he wasn't home. See, I was on his plane and it crash landed on an island. The whole lot of us just got back-a navy ship found us. But well-"
The news was fresh in his mind. It hadn't truly been that long since Piggy had been killed, and to talk about it brought a new bit of sadness into his mind. He'd been a very caring friend and very smart too, and along the way Ralph had truly grown to like him.
"He didn't-"
"No. He didn't come back. He died." He was killed by another boy, he thought. A boy named Roger. And Roger came back. But he could not say it. He couldn't put the blame on Roger because something just as evil was hovering over his head. When Simon was killed, he had been a part of that disgusting event. If Roger was a murderer, so was Ralph.
Piggy's aunt's eyes glistened with sadness, but she did not cry. She seemed to have accepted it a long time ago, only now it was official. And then she shook it off in a way that sometimes only adults can manage.
"Do you want something to eat? I have a bunch of sweets around as you can see. I just made pie. Have some." Ralph nodded his head, and she brought him all the cookies and cakes he could eat. After a time, she sighed and then stared at him curiously.
"You were there."
"What?"
"Good gracious you were there!"
"I'm sorry um…ma'am. What you talking about?"
"You said you were on the plane that crashed. You were on an island for this long? Oh my you must be very tired. Those feet should be up. You should be in bed. Have you been to the doctor?"
"Well I thought I was all right."
"It's not possible. That wouldn't make sense. You'll spend the night, I insist."
"But I-"
"I insist. Tomorrow morning, I need some help with my errands. You seem like a healthy boy, so let's say I'm making a request for that reason. Would you do that for me?"
Ralph agreed to help her and decided sleeping at her house for a night wouldn't be so bad. Somehow, he felt he owed it to her. He still felt like her loss was his fault, that Piggy had been his responsibility and he had let them both down.
And so, in short, that's how Ralph spent his first night in England, stuffed with treats, relieved of some of his guilt, and away from his own home for yet another night. Not horrible, he thought, but likely to get worse. After all, you couldn't have the good without the bad, could you?