Lord of the Flies
Summery Project
"I don't understand why it happened," Ralph moaned. "We all wanted to get home. I wanted a fire so we could get home. Is there anything wrong with that? That's all. . ." The man Ralph was talking to pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "There was nothing wrong with that," the man said reasonably. "I should have listened to the mulberry marked face boy," Ralph continued. "He knew about the beast. When he disappeared, they didn't care." "Who are they?" "The other boys," replied Ralph. "None of them cared. What was so wrong with wanting to go home, wanting to get off that island? Sure, I thought it was fun at first, but was it fun when they killed Simon? Or when they killed Piggy?" Ralph realized suddenly he was standing. His knuckles were white as he gripped the pencil he held. The pencil snapped. "Sorry," he murmured and sat. The man had stopped taking notes. He smiled sadly at Ralph. "What those boys did wasn't your fault, Ralph." Ralph looked at him blankly. "You don't know that," he whispered. "I was chief, and they acted like a bunch of kids! Like it was some game, and when I didn't want to play, they tried to kill me!" "They didn't know what they were doing," the man insisted. "You don't know that. Have you ever talked to Jack, or Roger, or any of them?" The man sat mute in his chair. "That's what I thought." "Tell me about the island," said the man, trying desperately to change the subject. Ralph ran his hand through his now short hair. He glanced toward the window, and out at the sky. His eyes became glazed over and unfocused as he slipped back to the island. "It was so beautiful at first. . . the air scented with candle-buds and fruit trees. The air was pure and crisp. The island has a platform made of dead trees that was perfect for calling assemblies. The fruit trees were so full of fruit we could live off them forever. Pigs lived in the forests. And the sunsets were wizard from on top of Castle rock." Ralph paused as he snapped back to reality. "It was all illusion! All of it a game! We thought Simon was batty, but we were worse then him!" Ralph was angry now, angry at the old friends who had let him down. "Even the conch, the reason we found each other in the first place, held nothing for them in the end. The conch was our only link to civilization, our only link to the real world. . ." Ralph trailed off. He went over to the window, and watched the people below. "I should of known what was going on. . ." Ralph said to the window. He pounded the glass with his fist. "What could I done differently? I have asked myself the same question day in and day out for the past two years." "Sometimes no matter what you try bad things happen." "Do you think it helps when you say that?" cried Ralph. "Every one says that there was nothing I could have done, but I was chief! I should have done it, even when they didn't want me to. I let them down, all of them! Simon, that boy and. . ." His stomach churned as he said the last name. "Even Piggy." "Who is Piggy? What's his real name?" "I never did know," Ralph admitted. He dropped back into the chair. "He asked me, begged me even, to call him anything but Piggy. So what did I do? Called him Piggy." His face was ashen and pale. His hands began to shake. "He was the only voice of reason on the whole island. I treated him as badly as the rest. He was the only one. The only one who stayed with me to the end. 'Til Roger killed him." Ralph realized he was crying. On the island he would have never dared cry in front of the other boys, but lately all he seemed to do was cry. Cry for his friends-turned-enemies, Jack, Roger, Bill, Samneric. Cry for Piggy and Simon. He felt like a littlun, always crying, whimpering. "Tell me about him. It will be good for you to remember him." The man pushed his glasses up his nose again. "Piggy was fat." Ralph almost laughed picturing him. "An' he had specks, like yours, only thicker. He hated doin' work, on account of his ass-mar." "Asthma?" "Yeah, that's it." Ralph closed his eyes, and Piggy's image appeared in his head. "I can't on account of my asthma," came Piggy's voice in his head. "Sucks to your ass-mar." Ralph realized when the man looked at him strangely that he had said it out loud. "S'what I always said whenever he talked about his ass-mar." "What happened to him? Was he killed in the fire?" "No," whispered Ralph darkly. "Roger pushed a rock down from castle rock. It crushed his head, and threw him onto a rock in the ocean. Last time I saw him he was twitching like a dead pig, and pink goo was oozing out of his head." Ralph turned away from the man. "I. . . I can't take this anymore. I want to go home." "Alright," replied the man. "Go send your mother in. I need to talk to her. If you need anything just let me know." Ralph disappeared into the waiting room. The man waited patiently. Ralph's mother came in. "You wanted to see me, Doctor Black?" she asked. "Yes," he replied. "You should schedule another appointment with my secretary. Ralph is ready to go back to school next autumn." "So he is opening up more," his mother murmured. "Do you think he'll ever be alright?" "He has seen some horrible things. Don't expect miracles." "I see." Ralph's mother looked sadly at Ralph's psychiatrist. "Thank you doctor." The tearful mother left the room, and took Ralph to her car. "Are we going home mum?" Ralph asked. "No more doctors?" "Not for a while." "Good, I'm glad. They make me remember something I never want to think about again." Ralph did up his seatbelt. "Even though I can't look at another boy without thinking of it." Ralph glanced up into the sky, anger creasing his face. "I hope you get what you deserve Jack."
"I don't understand why it happened," Ralph moaned. "We all wanted to get home. I wanted a fire so we could get home. Is there anything wrong with that? That's all. . ." The man Ralph was talking to pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "There was nothing wrong with that," the man said reasonably. "I should have listened to the mulberry marked face boy," Ralph continued. "He knew about the beast. When he disappeared, they didn't care." "Who are they?" "The other boys," replied Ralph. "None of them cared. What was so wrong with wanting to go home, wanting to get off that island? Sure, I thought it was fun at first, but was it fun when they killed Simon? Or when they killed Piggy?" Ralph realized suddenly he was standing. His knuckles were white as he gripped the pencil he held. The pencil snapped. "Sorry," he murmured and sat. The man had stopped taking notes. He smiled sadly at Ralph. "What those boys did wasn't your fault, Ralph." Ralph looked at him blankly. "You don't know that," he whispered. "I was chief, and they acted like a bunch of kids! Like it was some game, and when I didn't want to play, they tried to kill me!" "They didn't know what they were doing," the man insisted. "You don't know that. Have you ever talked to Jack, or Roger, or any of them?" The man sat mute in his chair. "That's what I thought." "Tell me about the island," said the man, trying desperately to change the subject. Ralph ran his hand through his now short hair. He glanced toward the window, and out at the sky. His eyes became glazed over and unfocused as he slipped back to the island. "It was so beautiful at first. . . the air scented with candle-buds and fruit trees. The air was pure and crisp. The island has a platform made of dead trees that was perfect for calling assemblies. The fruit trees were so full of fruit we could live off them forever. Pigs lived in the forests. And the sunsets were wizard from on top of Castle rock." Ralph paused as he snapped back to reality. "It was all illusion! All of it a game! We thought Simon was batty, but we were worse then him!" Ralph was angry now, angry at the old friends who had let him down. "Even the conch, the reason we found each other in the first place, held nothing for them in the end. The conch was our only link to civilization, our only link to the real world. . ." Ralph trailed off. He went over to the window, and watched the people below. "I should of known what was going on. . ." Ralph said to the window. He pounded the glass with his fist. "What could I done differently? I have asked myself the same question day in and day out for the past two years." "Sometimes no matter what you try bad things happen." "Do you think it helps when you say that?" cried Ralph. "Every one says that there was nothing I could have done, but I was chief! I should have done it, even when they didn't want me to. I let them down, all of them! Simon, that boy and. . ." His stomach churned as he said the last name. "Even Piggy." "Who is Piggy? What's his real name?" "I never did know," Ralph admitted. He dropped back into the chair. "He asked me, begged me even, to call him anything but Piggy. So what did I do? Called him Piggy." His face was ashen and pale. His hands began to shake. "He was the only voice of reason on the whole island. I treated him as badly as the rest. He was the only one. The only one who stayed with me to the end. 'Til Roger killed him." Ralph realized he was crying. On the island he would have never dared cry in front of the other boys, but lately all he seemed to do was cry. Cry for his friends-turned-enemies, Jack, Roger, Bill, Samneric. Cry for Piggy and Simon. He felt like a littlun, always crying, whimpering. "Tell me about him. It will be good for you to remember him." The man pushed his glasses up his nose again. "Piggy was fat." Ralph almost laughed picturing him. "An' he had specks, like yours, only thicker. He hated doin' work, on account of his ass-mar." "Asthma?" "Yeah, that's it." Ralph closed his eyes, and Piggy's image appeared in his head. "I can't on account of my asthma," came Piggy's voice in his head. "Sucks to your ass-mar." Ralph realized when the man looked at him strangely that he had said it out loud. "S'what I always said whenever he talked about his ass-mar." "What happened to him? Was he killed in the fire?" "No," whispered Ralph darkly. "Roger pushed a rock down from castle rock. It crushed his head, and threw him onto a rock in the ocean. Last time I saw him he was twitching like a dead pig, and pink goo was oozing out of his head." Ralph turned away from the man. "I. . . I can't take this anymore. I want to go home." "Alright," replied the man. "Go send your mother in. I need to talk to her. If you need anything just let me know." Ralph disappeared into the waiting room. The man waited patiently. Ralph's mother came in. "You wanted to see me, Doctor Black?" she asked. "Yes," he replied. "You should schedule another appointment with my secretary. Ralph is ready to go back to school next autumn." "So he is opening up more," his mother murmured. "Do you think he'll ever be alright?" "He has seen some horrible things. Don't expect miracles." "I see." Ralph's mother looked sadly at Ralph's psychiatrist. "Thank you doctor." The tearful mother left the room, and took Ralph to her car. "Are we going home mum?" Ralph asked. "No more doctors?" "Not for a while." "Good, I'm glad. They make me remember something I never want to think about again." Ralph did up his seatbelt. "Even though I can't look at another boy without thinking of it." Ralph glanced up into the sky, anger creasing his face. "I hope you get what you deserve Jack."