Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies. That honor belongs to William Golding
They believe me dead, believe me gone. Yet, I am here, thriving. Thriving more than they ever believed themselves to be.
I watched as they grew angry and regretful by my loss
I could see their failure before they could
They targeted the weak, followed the strong. I would have done the same.
Savagery overtook them quickly.
Would I have been savage?
I clung to the hope of rescue, longer than they did. I had nothing else to cling to, no leader to follow. Fear is a powerful thing. I feared them.
I sufficed myself on fruit. Meat seemed to be their downfall. I wanted to stay where I was.
I never made fires. I didn't need Piggy's glasses. I wouldn't become reliant on something broken so easily.
Still, I watched their fires, fascinated.
Fire is a funny thing. It takes you away, it makes you realize what you could have become.
I watched them through fire, always.
Watched as they were split into two. I would have been split in half.
Watched as they were rescued. But I stayed.
I like it here. I haven't succumbed to savagery. I am stronger than they were, I can take the island. Alone.
I am, however, the only one to decide that. Besides the fire, that is.
I owe the fire much. It made me different.
Now I am forever the only boy on the island with a mulberry scar, when I wipe off the paint.
The only one still fighting the beastie.