Welcome to my story, and I hope you enjoy. It's a story I have been writing for almost five years now, and one I have forgotten, picked up, and rewritten many times throughout the years. It isn't finished, but I have always worked on it, piece by piece. I hope you enjoy my tale about survival, lust, adventure, and betrayal. I don't own The Lord of the Flies or any of it's characters, just Annie!

Anyways, enjoy! :)

*Chapters newly edited as of October 2015*


I step onto the hot plane, distraught and in a hurry. In a rush evacuation out of London, the children are separated from their parents to be shipped off to an American private school.

As I look around I notice I am on a plane with several others my age, except they are all boys. Panicked, I look around for an exit behind me, only to see it blocked by a group of others awaiting entry into the aircraft.

"This isn't my plane, I'm a girl!" I complain to a flight attendant ushering people onto the plane. She sighs and puts on a false smile, clearly annoyed by the complaint.

"I'm sorry miss, but you will have to take this one, we don't have time for you to switch," she says and pushed me towards the seats.

"Please take a seat," she urges as three other boys enter the plane behind me.

I walk nervously down the isle, and take an empty place in the middle of the rows of seats beside a small blonde haired boy. He turns away from me, clearly shy, and I look around the plane to take note of the other passengers around me.

I look to my right and see a tall boy with black hair sitting in the isle adjacent to me. He looks to the boy beside him, and snickers at something he sees in front of him. His eyes do not show a genuine smile, but a malicious one filled with bad intent.

I gaze into the isle so I can see what the black-haired boy is laughing at, and I see short chubby boy that has fallen flat on his face in the middle of the isle. He reaches around searching for something and his chubby fingers find it, placing it on his face. It is a large circular pair of glasses, that reach all the way around his eyes and give his cheeks vision.

I look back to the blonde boy sitting to the left of me, and notice him speaking quietly to a smaller boy with short brown hair and a mulberry coloured birthmark on his cheek, just below his left eye. The blonde boy points out the window, and the brunet boy's face lights up. Through the window sits a large jet, that appears to be for military purposes.

The plane is practically silent other than the faint mutterings of the other's chatting. It is unnerving, as the whole day has been hectic, and not without great amounts of clamour. I have just arrived from a busy train previously and the quiet is almost unnatural.

The plane's large door closes, and the aircraft readies to take off; it's propellers rumbling as they begin to spin. The plane's wheels move it forward and we are all pulled into the sky on our way to safety.

The atmosphere is thick with tension, as thoughts of the strange and far country of America looms in the future. All of the children are awaiting their decent into a country without their parents. Everyone except for me.


Living in foster care since I was four, moving from house to house never gave me the opportunity to feel what it is like to have a real set of parents. My foster parents were never caring, and often I lived with many foster siblings. One house in particular was the most terrible, and it scars me to this day.

My foster parents' names were Veronica and Carl. They seemed nice enough when I first came to meet them, bringing me in with such 'love' that I had began to like my foster parents for the first time. They gave me my own room, unlike most, and didn't make me do many chores.

"Call me mom!" Veronica would say.

"Call me dad!" Carl would insist.

Every week the orphanage would check up on us just to ensure we were doing alright, and every visit would be the same— we were fine. Then, on the thirtieth day, the orphanage deemed the foster parents appropriate and stopped visiting. That was also the day my foster parents lost their outward facade, and showed their true terrible selves.

"You are only here for the money kid, so listen up— from now on no more radio, no more toys, and no more room," sneered Carl.

"We have a new room for you, girly," laughed Veronica.

Veronica motioned for me to follow her, but I did not move. She frowned and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me along with her.

She pulled me along until we met the door next to the kitchen. I was never able to go in there, as they told me it was locked and they 'couldn't find the key'. I knew this was a lie, as sometimes they would go in there, and would not come out for a while.

Veronica pulled the set of keys from a pocket in her skirt, and unlocked the door. To my surprise it had not been a pantry as they had told me, but a basement.

"Go down there," Veronica pushed, and I almost fell straight down the stairs.

It was dark, and the only light that was offered was at the bottom of the creaky wooden stairs. I managed to get to the bottom safely, and looked around. Three cots sat on one side of the room with a thin blanket and dirty pillow on top of each. In the opposite corner lay an old bucket, but I was not yet sure what it was for. An old porcelain sink was attached to the wall beside it, with a dirty and cracked mirror hung above.

"But— but this is cruel! You can't do this to me!" I yelped in a panic.

Veronica looked at me and laughed a sharp, bitter laugh. "Who are you going to tell? The orphanage?" She laughed even more wickedly and shoved me towards the cot.


My mind wandering brings me to forget where I am momentarily. A jostle from the plane alerts me, and I remember that I am in a plane filled with boys on my way to America.

The plane slowly becomes louder as chatting amongst the boys is heard. They even laugh and joke, cutting the tension and easing my nervous stomach.

I feel a set of eyes on me, and I am sure someone is staring at me. I look around and finally notice to my left there is a small blonde boy peering up at me with curious eyes.

"Miss— me and my friends were just wondering, why are you on our plane?" he asks in a quiet voice, and his look of pure innocence brings me to answer instead of ignoring him like I was planning to.

"It was a mix up," I say curtly and turn my head back around, only wishing to reach my destination— not to make friends.

I feel a sharp tap on my shoulder and I turn back around to see the expectant blue eyes of this boy again.

"What's your name?" he asks and cocks his head slightly to the side, reminding me of a puppy.

"Annie," I answer, and smile tightly.

"Well Annie, I'm Simon," he says and extends his hand out for me to shake.

I can't help but giggle at his adult-like gesture, although he can't be more than eight years old. I lightly shake his hand and he sits back down, clearly content that his questions are answered.

"Look Simon! Everyone is ants!" exclaims the boy with the birthmark, pointing out the small window to the world below.

Hours go by uneventfully, and there is not much to do but read my favourite book- and the only one I brought with me— "Pride and Prejudice" for about the fiftieth time.

I re-read the pages, memorizing the content. As my eyes sweep over the pages I find myself wishing for a romance like Elizabeth's.

I am on the second last chapter when the plane gives a forceful lurch, causing my book to fly out of my hands and onto the floor. It's just turbulence, I tell myself, picking up my book and continuing to read the best I can with all the jerky movement of the plane.

I try not to panic, but it is difficult, as I feel the plane quickly taking a nosedive. I look through the window to see a floor of ocean quickly approaching. I drop my book, and search for a beacon of hope and safety.

Voices of confusion arise as we are all so unsure of what to do. I see an emergency exit in the front and decide that if something does happen that I am going to go out that door.

Everything begins to unfold in slow motion.

We are directed to jump out of the plane into the water, and the panic erupts. Children are lurching out of their seats, the littlest ones crying. I am frozen in shock, unable to move— trapped in my seat.

I feel the two boys who are sitting beside me squeeze their way past me, attempting to tug me along with them, but to no avail.

My senses are dulled, and my eyes are fixated at the exit, wide and unmoving.

I hear yelling, but it sounds as if we are in the water. I feel a hand shake my arm, but I am in total shock, unable to move, unable to register what is happening. I feel someone pick me up, and I stay like a frightened rabbit, barely moving, barely breathing. I hear some muddled speaking, but I hear nothing comprehensible.

I feel a sudden pressure on my face and I blink several times. The noises get louder, and as my senses come back slowly and I finally realize that I am falling from a plane.

Time begins to return to normal, and I am falling faster than I originally thought, quickly approaching the water.

I remember what the person from the plane had told me now. He had yelled to me through the sound of the wind and chaos.

"You're going to have to swim."

I hit the water, but fall in too deep. I attempt to swim upwards, but I had not taken a full breath into my lungs before I had fallen in. The twinkling light of the sun gets darker and darker as I fall further to the bottom. My left hand is extended to the top, hoping for a savior, but receiving none.

The light soon turns to dark, as I fade out, the last bubbles floating out of my mouth and to the top. My eyes get heavy, and I decide to close them, but not before I see a dark figure coming towards me. I think it is a hallucination, and I smile.

The blackness envelopes me and the cold water soon becomes the warmest blanket I have ever slept in.