This was written for an English project, and was actually completed in 15
minutes. It was the best in the class (if I do say so myself) The
assignment was to re-write the ending while keeping the style the same. I
think this did that and offers another, more chilling, possibility.
Beast Called Man by Immortaljedi
He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher.
He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right
shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling
over and over in the warm sand, crouching with an arm to ward off,
trying to cry for mercy.
Ralph staggered to his feet and lacking the energy fell once more upon his knees, to his hands. Crawling on all fours like a beaten dog he crept towards the water. He cried out and one arm gave way with a sharp pain in his shoulder and the sick sound of flesh hitting stone. He pushed up and tried to keep forward. The ululations were louder now and closer. Another shooting pain and he was down, spitting sand. He turned to see what was striking him.
Roger.
The painted boy stood to the right of Jack, who was in the middle of a semicircle of boys, confident in his control. Roger picked up another rock and tossed it up and down, like a baseball. In his other hand was a spear, sharpened at both ends, a terrible representation of his power.
Ralph lay there, shoulders jutted forward, held up by his arms, his head tucked like a turtle entering his shell, staring up at the painted monarch. Like hounds going for the kill, the savages surrounded Ralph, jabbing him with spears. He flinched away from the pain but kept his eyes on Jack's painted face.
The painted lips moved and the savage voice spoke but Ralph could not understand the words. All he knew was pain. The last thing he heard was taunting voices chanting, "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Bash his head!" The last thing Ralph saw was Jack's grin, toothy and white, like the last mocking grin of the pig.
It was done.
The chief was dead and his head on a pike, a gift for the beast.
The rest was cooked over his beloved fire. A cooking fire, a smokeless fire.
As the savages ate, their dictator rose, spear in one hand, juicy hot meat in the other, and gave a cry, a mighty roar, proclaiming his mastery over all. Behind him the jungle burned, a forest of red and yellow flame. Squeals were heard as the pigs tried for the beach and were overpowered by the fire and the creepers. Fruit cooked and baked, sending a sickly sweet breeze over the beach. Smoke rose from the burning trees, thick and black, visible for miles. No help would come.
Sitting slightly apart, a savage, slightly bigger than the rest, ate. By his side lay another double pointed spear, ready for the next. Roger ate mechanically, his eyes glued to the leader. Jack was next.
The savage's hand searched for and found a rock. The savage stood and hurled a mighty toss. The rock sailed like a bird through the air. There was a sickening crack and a splatter of blood. Jack slowly sank to the ground, still holding his spear in his hand. As the red life poured from him, his eyes grew dim and closed. The rest sat frozen, unable to believe their leader was dead. The savage who had thrown the rock, Roger, came up to stand over Jack. He held his double spear up for all to see. With a sharp move he brought it down, embedding it in the soft belly of their former leader.
"I am chief now."
Nobody contradicted him.
Cowering in the rocks, two insignificant identical forms sat shivering, not eating, horrified at this beast that was man.
Finis.
So. What do you think? Let me know.
Beast Called Man by Immortaljedi
He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher.
He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right
shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling
over and over in the warm sand, crouching with an arm to ward off,
trying to cry for mercy.
Ralph staggered to his feet and lacking the energy fell once more upon his knees, to his hands. Crawling on all fours like a beaten dog he crept towards the water. He cried out and one arm gave way with a sharp pain in his shoulder and the sick sound of flesh hitting stone. He pushed up and tried to keep forward. The ululations were louder now and closer. Another shooting pain and he was down, spitting sand. He turned to see what was striking him.
Roger.
The painted boy stood to the right of Jack, who was in the middle of a semicircle of boys, confident in his control. Roger picked up another rock and tossed it up and down, like a baseball. In his other hand was a spear, sharpened at both ends, a terrible representation of his power.
Ralph lay there, shoulders jutted forward, held up by his arms, his head tucked like a turtle entering his shell, staring up at the painted monarch. Like hounds going for the kill, the savages surrounded Ralph, jabbing him with spears. He flinched away from the pain but kept his eyes on Jack's painted face.
The painted lips moved and the savage voice spoke but Ralph could not understand the words. All he knew was pain. The last thing he heard was taunting voices chanting, "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Bash his head!" The last thing Ralph saw was Jack's grin, toothy and white, like the last mocking grin of the pig.
It was done.
The chief was dead and his head on a pike, a gift for the beast.
The rest was cooked over his beloved fire. A cooking fire, a smokeless fire.
As the savages ate, their dictator rose, spear in one hand, juicy hot meat in the other, and gave a cry, a mighty roar, proclaiming his mastery over all. Behind him the jungle burned, a forest of red and yellow flame. Squeals were heard as the pigs tried for the beach and were overpowered by the fire and the creepers. Fruit cooked and baked, sending a sickly sweet breeze over the beach. Smoke rose from the burning trees, thick and black, visible for miles. No help would come.
Sitting slightly apart, a savage, slightly bigger than the rest, ate. By his side lay another double pointed spear, ready for the next. Roger ate mechanically, his eyes glued to the leader. Jack was next.
The savage's hand searched for and found a rock. The savage stood and hurled a mighty toss. The rock sailed like a bird through the air. There was a sickening crack and a splatter of blood. Jack slowly sank to the ground, still holding his spear in his hand. As the red life poured from him, his eyes grew dim and closed. The rest sat frozen, unable to believe their leader was dead. The savage who had thrown the rock, Roger, came up to stand over Jack. He held his double spear up for all to see. With a sharp move he brought it down, embedding it in the soft belly of their former leader.
"I am chief now."
Nobody contradicted him.
Cowering in the rocks, two insignificant identical forms sat shivering, not eating, horrified at this beast that was man.
Finis.
So. What do you think? Let me know.