All characters are the intellectual property of William Golding
The Last Piece
From the beginning, there was nothing that would stop it, nothing that could stand in its way. More than providence, more than fate, more than a random event. From the moment that the plane's wings carried out its merry acrobatics, crash-landed on this remote island, it was predestined.
This was a fortress. He was the king. Sacrifice was necessary. To exert its prowess over the candy coloured hues of their world, and tar it with shades of reality. Participating in a mass ritual was nothing more than a continuation of a casual descent into savagery.
Even as he lay there, broken, a thousand holes in a tiny frame, pierced by a flicker of random cruelty by little cherubs of boys, led by the shattered youth of one too eager to grow up. No longer make-believe. The red rivulets draining out of Simon's white, lifeless body lay claim to truths that would later unravel like balls of jumbled yarn in the presence of adults, rescuers, witness to larger tragedies, helpless to the ones constructed by boys, hardly out of youth.
Even as he lay there, he had already foresaw everything. His quiet thoughtfulness, a flicker of faith in the midst of unruliness and chaos. The voices that called him and the hands outstretched reaching for him had left their lessons in everything he saw and touched, in the words he exchanged with Ralph, in the hours he had patiently listened to Piggy's admonitions.
He feared for the latter now, the strains of a melody reaching his ears and soft light tumbling on everything, illuminating the beach, the sky, the trees, mingling with gruesome images. A short, rotund figure tumbling down a rockface, his truth, the conch he believed in, shattered along with him, red lava pouring out from the spoilt crevice of the crux of knowledge. Jack, his spear raised towards Ralph, what would become of him? The little 'uns with their painted faces, and trusting hearts, did they, would they, still see it as a game?
The island's tranquility had been shattered, just as it had shattered their innocence. Its lush shrubbery was no longer the gateway to an untouched paradise, but a dungeon of malice and notions that ate the soul of childish dreams, damning them to forbidden knowledge.
Simon knew, even as he fingered every bloom and trod through every blade of grass. No matter how far away it must have been, he had long seen the distinction between Ralph and Jack, between Piggy and those who scorned his wisdom, with a clarity beyond his years. His unassuming nature had led him here, the descent into darkness falling on him like a leaden weight, like the tips of countless spears piercing flesh and bone, searching the depths of his soul, attempting to murder the core of his being.
So many images, so many revelations, as the lightning illuminated the brackened horizon, Simon's body gently floating out, the tide claiming him, as all he could see were the things past and future, as shafts of gold and pearl greeted him, as the sky opened up for him, welcoming him, the rain started to pelt down, in heavy baleful drops, mourning him, a bittersweet eulogy for him. What would become of them then?
All he felt was peace.
A/N: i'm sorry that this is such a short piece, and seemingly so meaningless. i hope that anyone who reads this would be so kind as to point out any mistakes that i might have made, because i haven't read the book for ages, and hopefully leave a review as well. Many thanks.