Ok so this was one of my old grade 12 English assignments I did hundreds of years ago (lol jokes, last year). And I can finally put it up here since Lord of the Flies finally has a place in the land of Fanfiction :D :D *excited*. This is just a little (very little) short story one-shot kind of thing about Jack and Ralph's separate lives 10 years after escaping the island. As you will soon see, they ended up living VERY different lives and hopefully I did the characters justice. I feel so sorry for Jack sometimes, but Ralph will always be my favourite (after Simon of course ;_; poor sweety [Fun Fact I also had to do a monologue for English as Simon and even had to dress up as him and everything. T'was interesting hah]).

Anywho this has no pairings or anything like that, it's just a look into what I thought Jack and Ralph's lives would be like after their time on the island. It's got a bit of blood and a death so it's rated M for a reason!

Kay, I'm done rambling now, I hope you enjoy it (my teacher apparently did haha I got an A for it *grins*)

Thief of the Night

Blood dripped onto the pavement as Jack made his way to the orphanage's shed he called home. With one hand bleeding from recent cuts he had to sling his heavy loot over one shoulder, but he didn't mind. It was an exceptionally good hunt tonight. Looking up at the bone white moon, he guessed that it was around 8:00pm. Good, the matron would have put the kids to bed by now. He wanted to keep well away from human contact as much as possible- even more so in his current state. Shifting his balaclava with his bleeding hand, he reached the shed; pushing open the door he proceeded inside.

Inside the small space was nothing more than a musty, old bed, a rotting wardrobe and a small sink. Humming to himself, Jack walked over to the wardrobe and carefully placed the sack of antiques in the back. Remembering his wounded hand, he strolled over to the sink, and ran cool water over the scratches until they stopped bleeding. He was already quite used to having to smash his way into houses, and so his actions after his raids became a routine thing. Feeling rather hot in his balaclava, he decided to remove it, and splashes some of the refreshing water onto his face. He froze. What was that he just saw? Glancing out of the corner of his eye he caught the sight of a hideous, freckled face glaring incredulously at him. Letting out a furious howl, he gripped the mirror shard in his wounded hand, ignoring the pain that followed, and smashed it to the ground.

For a while the red-head just stood there breathing heavily, clenching and unclenching his fists, feeling the heat of shame and anger wash over him. Suddenly he turned around and proceeded to fling anything he could across the small room. Letting a few yells and grunts escape his lips, Jack soon realised he was making too much noise. Leaning over, he lifted the rag that covered the window on his left and peeked out at the sleeping orphanage, where a light had flickered on. He hissed in annoyance. Releasing the rag, he looked over to the window on his right, showing an unobstructed view of the adjacent forest. Without another thought he seized his balaclava and swiftly vacated the premises, letting the inviting gloom of the forest swallow him.

Whilst walking through the scrub, Jack felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his left hand. Looking down he realised that fresh incisions had embellished his palm and blood was now gushing from the wounds. Instinctively he began to lick the blood from his hand until the bleeding subsided. Peering up through the canopy, he noticed a sliver of the bright moon peeking down at him. Judging by its position, he decided that it must be around 9:00pm. Feeling restless, Jack began to yearn for some excitement. Knowing there was one easy way to quell this urge; he picked up his pace and headed to the edge of the forest. His search for a sign of civilisation ended as he came across a rather large Tudor home. He smiled to himself, this is my lucky day.

After inspecting the exterior of the beautiful house, he decided on an entry point through a carelessly opened window on the first floor. As silent as a door mouse, he carefully pulled himself in through the window. Looking around he could tell that he'd ended up in a living room of some sort. A dormant fireplace took up most of the wall to his left, with a patterned two-seat sofa sitting in front of it. Jack couldn't make out the colours of the carpet but knew that it was soft by the way his tattered boots sunk into it as he walked. Scowling he thought about how his own 'home' could fit in this room twice. Shaking his head, he began to review the multiple portraits that adorned the walls to get an idea of who he was about to steal from, when the room flooded with light.

Blinking, Jack turned around in shock as he saw the man who was responsible for the sudden light source. Clenching his teeth together, he realised immediately who it was. There Ralph stood; hand still on the light switch, with an incredulous look on his annoyingly flawless face. The badge on his uniform portraying the words 'Chief of Police' proudly glinted in the light, as he stood in the doorway looking at the masked man in his living room.

Jack, trying to ignore the badge of honour, spoke up, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Ralph put his hand to his belt, presumably where his gun was located, and replied, "I think you'll find that that was my line. Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

Jack stifled a laugh. Ralph didn't recognise him. Of course, how could he when the balaclava hid all of his hideous features from the blonde.

Smiling, Jack decided to give his enemy a hint, "Hmph, that's very rude of you, Ralph. Have you forgotten me already? It's only been, what ten years? You should get that brain of yours checked for memory loss."

Ralph's eyes widened. "How do you…," he gasped, "Wait… Jack...is that you?"

"Not very quick are you." Jack replied with a shake of his head. "And to think you were a leader once upon a time. Pathetic", he sneered.

Ralph's blue eyes flashed with anger as he took a step towards the smug red-head, "Who the hell are you calling pathetic?" He stopped, forcing himself to keep calm, "Ugh, forget that! I really think you should leave, otherwise I will have to press charges against you for trespassing."

Jack swivelled on his heels, ignoring Ralph, and strolled towards the fireplace, where he placed his bleeding hand on the mantel. "You know, it's funny. How events like the ones we had on that island can change a person. Hell, having two people get killed in front of your very eyes would change anyone…" He paused, "But you know what really urks me? The fact that you got so much good out of it!" Jack's voice suddenly rose as his rage bubbled over. "What the hell is with that badge?!" Jack exclaimed as he, without looking, jutted a quivering finger behind him to where he knew Ralph would be standing. "Why in the world are you so bloody successful? We went through the same thing, so why am I so much worse off than you?!"

Ralph, trying to understand what was going on, stood there in silence, watching Jack's knuckles turn white as the man tried to contain the turmoil that was obviously threatening to escape. The silence soon over came Jack.

Turning to face Ralph again, he screamed, "Say something you bas…" He stopped when he saw the look Ralph gave him. Was that pity!? How dare he pity me! Just because he was more successful than me, didn't give him the right to act all high and mighty about it! Feeling like he was about to explode, he took a poker from the edge of the fireplace into his possession and held it threateningly at the police chief.

Ralph instinctively took his gun out of it's upholster and aimed it at Jack. "Jack, don't do this. I don't know what you're going through but I'm sure I can get some help for you."

Jack snapped, "STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! Why do you think you have the right to mess with my life? I don't need your help or anyone else's! I just WISH everyone would LEAVE ME ALONE!"

With that he closed the gap between them and lunged forward with the poker, aiming right for Ralph's gut.

BANG!

…

Jack looked up in surprise as the poker fell to the ground, his body soon following it. Pain swiftly moved in on him as his adrenaline was extinguished. He looked down to see blood spewing profusely from his stomach. He started to feel very weak as his lids grew heavier, and his breathing hitched. Looking up at his shooter, he saw new expressions in his enemy's eyes; shock, anguish…sadness? Jack held his gaze, until the cool breath of death closed his eyes for the last time. He got his wish.

0_0 yeah I had a pretty violent mind in grade 12 I think haha. I can't figure out if I should be feeling sorry for Jack that he died, or happy that he's finally at peace... oh well as a certain Taco ad would say "porqueno las dos?".

Anyway that's it for Lord of the Flies one-shots for me guys, hope you liked it! Review if you want, I would love to see what other people think of it :) Thanks! xxxx