Lord of the Flies: Alternative Ending
Running… running… running. And then, Ralph stopped. He was on the beach, and he could hear them catching up with him, even if Jack and his tribe were faint in the distance at the moment. He understood what would happen when they caught up with him (for it was no longer an if situation) – he would die, after whatever other torture Jack had planned had taken place. The line was catching up.
To be honest, it wasn't really a line anymore, but a pulsing mass. The fear that Jack had used to create order had melted into the chaos and desire, the lust for blood, the dance. The boys, the tribe, the painted faces – they all became one, pulsing, screaming mass.
This was what the "stick sharpened at both ends" was. It was chaos, it was fear. The stick sharpened at both ends was the beast. It was death, it was disgust, it was uncertainty. Ralph understood now. He surveyed the peaceful lagoon. The sun beat down upon the sand and the sea, and Ralph felt traces of the same glory, the same invincibility, opportunity that he had when the plane had first crashed there. Looking out, there was no trace of the fire that was methodically destroying the Utopia. It was all behind him.
Soon, he would be behind him.
Soon, he would be less than a mark on a mind – like Simon, Piggy – manifestations of a beast that only existed in a mental manifestation.
The pulse and throb of the dance was coming closer, and Ralph Understood. He turned towards the mob of boys, for that was all they were, painted or not, and noted Roger, foremost of all of them.
Ah, Roger. Jack's henchman. And then, in a matter of minutes, Roger had caught up with him. He aimed his spear, and snarled and animal growl.
"Stop." It was one word. Ralph had no right to think it held any weight.
Roger faltered. "What? Are you batty?"
Ralph leaned down and took a rock about the size of his fist in one hand. He looked at it for a couple of seconds and tossed it up and down in one hand, as if contemplating it. He caught Roger's eyes, and he held out the rock.
"Here. Take it. Hit me with it." Ralph stared squarely at Roger.
"What?"
"I said, hit me with it."
Roger was completely off guard now, attention completely off of his spear or his comrades, solely focused on Ralph and the rock.
"See? You can't. Ha! You can't! You can't hit me with it!" Ralph was almost chanting. It was as if he had gone mad – he kept laughing, kept repeating, "You can't! You can't!" Roger was entirely unnerved, and stepped back twice.
Ralph refocused his scattered attention. "Don't you see? Don't you understand? It's so simple – It's, it's – "
Ralph never got a chance to finish his sentence.