Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies or any of its characters.
AN: Well, this is my first fanfiction, and, like a lot of the LotF fics, it was a piece of work for english. I just thought that I needed an actual story on ff.net. Reviews would be appreciated!
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He sat in the small, brightly lit room. He had been here for about ten minutes now, waiting for the woman to come back with whoever she had gone to get. For what seemed like the millionth time since he had arrived, he looked around the room. It was small, with only just enough room for the wooden desk and two chairs, which was the only furniture in the room. Not that anything else would have fit into the room for it really was very small. The walls were a light cream colour, and added to the light airy atmosphere. However, he had been in here for some time now, and he noticed that it was starting to feel fake. The room was well ventilated and bright, but there were no windows, and so the light airy atmosphere lost it's charm. He didn't mind though. He's had enough of the 'great outdoors'. He was perfectly content to remain indoors for the rest of his life. It was calmer, fewer things could happen; it was a complete opposite to.
He shuddered, and tried to push away any thoughts of that place out of his mind. He shook his head, chasing the thoughts away, and set his mind back on the office he sat in. He reached up and ran his hand through his recently cut hair, half expecting to find it long and matted, to come across a twig or a leaf that had become entangled within large knots that seemed to get larger every day. But his hair was short and free of tangles and knots. He frowned. He was thinking about it again.
He pushed all those thoughts aside and turned his mind to why he had been brought here. He had already guessed it had something to do with his father, as it was a military building, and he had seen several people in uniforms, looking stern and serious as he had walked through the building with the woman who had been looking after him for the past week. He hoped they were going to tell him when his father was coming back. He had not seen his father for a long time, not since he had gone on that fateful aeroplane journey. He wasn't sure how long it had been exactly, he had lost track of time there.
Just before he went back down that dark train of thought, the door opened. He turned in his chair to see the person entering the room. A middle aged man wearing an impressive uniform walked in. He had short, closely cropped dark brown hair, which was starting to grey at the temples, and brown, serious eyes. He was tall, and had an air of authority about him, making him seem very imposing. The man walked across the room, and he noticed the man had a limp. It was almost unnoticeable, but it was perceptible. That must be why he was here, and not off fighting somewhere, because other then that, he seemed in perfect physical health. He watched as the man sat down behind the desk.
"Hello. My name is Captain Barneswood. You must be wondering why we asked you to come here."
It had crossed his mind once or twice.
"Well, as you know, your father had been sent off on a special mission just after you left."
It had been mentioned once. Just after they had come to collect him from the naval base. He'd asked where his father was. They had told him he was on a mission. It was one of the few parts of the last week he could remember. The rest of it had blurred together, ever since he had stepped onto the boat with the other boys. He could barely remember the journey home, or what he'd had for breakfast, come to think of it.
"His ship was taken over by the enemy troops, and until today we didn't know what had happened."
A heavy sense of dread came over him. This wasn't what he had been expecting. He had been expecting to be told that he would be able to see his father, that he was on his way to see him at this very moment. Now it seemed as if it would be even longer till he came back. Who knows how long it would take his father to escape and get home.
"I know this may be hard for you to hear, you being so young, but it was felt you had a right to know what had happened."
Barneswood paused, looking him straight in the eye. He felt uncomfortable, but didn't look away. The news couldn't be too bad, as long as his father was coming home. So many terrible things had happened already, nothing would come as a shock to him now, nothing that bad could ever happen again.
"The entire crew was killed."
Barneswood's words hit him like a sledgehammer. It couldn't be true, he refused to believe it. The whole crew couldn't just.die. But it didn't matter really. His father wasn't part of the crew. He was a temporary commanding officer, not part of the crew.
"However,"
His spirit rose. There, a however. This meant that there was more to be said, about his father. He wasn't dead, there was a however.
"As the commanding officer, your father was taken for questioning."
There. Taken for questioning. He had to be alive.
"We're not sure what happened during the questioning, but we do know what happened afterwards."
He must have escaped. Now he must be hiding somewhere, waiting to come home.
"I'm afraid your father was killed"
There was a second after Barneswood said that, when he didn't seem to hear it. The, the words reached him, and he stared at Barneswood, frozen in shock, his eyes begging the man to say it wasn't true, that his father wasn't.was alive.
The room was silent, except for the faint sounds coming from the corridor. He sat staring into space, replaying the words over and over in his mind. Your father was killed. Your father was killed. Your father was killed. Your father was. He opened his mouth to say no, to scream, to shout at Barneswood for saying it, that he was wrong, that he was lying, to burst into tears. Nothing came out. He just sat there, staring, his mouth open. Barneswood continued.
"We were able to find his body, but it was believed it was originally dropped onto one of several tropical islands. It seemed as though he had been there for some time."
It was at this point that a memory started to come back to him, forcing it's way into his mind. He could hear thunder rumbling and crashing, and a steady chanting. Suddenly, the chanting changed to screaming and shouting. In the background, a small voice was shouting about a body on the hill.
He was trembling now. It couldn't be possible, it just couldn't. All that time, and.and image of a decaying face flashed in his mind, and he let out a small, choked cry.
Barneswood looked at the boy. "I know it must be hard, hearing this, but." He paused as he noticed the look of horror on the boy's face. "Are you all right? It must come as a shock. If there's anything I can do." He trailed off again, when he showed no sign of recognition. Then, slowly, the boy raised his eyes his eyes to meet Barneswood's. They were filled with grief and terror, and something else Barneswood couldn't put his finger on. He was hesitant now, not sure of what he would find if he asked any more questions. "Ralph, are you alright?"
AN: Well, this is my first fanfiction, and, like a lot of the LotF fics, it was a piece of work for english. I just thought that I needed an actual story on ff.net. Reviews would be appreciated!
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He sat in the small, brightly lit room. He had been here for about ten minutes now, waiting for the woman to come back with whoever she had gone to get. For what seemed like the millionth time since he had arrived, he looked around the room. It was small, with only just enough room for the wooden desk and two chairs, which was the only furniture in the room. Not that anything else would have fit into the room for it really was very small. The walls were a light cream colour, and added to the light airy atmosphere. However, he had been in here for some time now, and he noticed that it was starting to feel fake. The room was well ventilated and bright, but there were no windows, and so the light airy atmosphere lost it's charm. He didn't mind though. He's had enough of the 'great outdoors'. He was perfectly content to remain indoors for the rest of his life. It was calmer, fewer things could happen; it was a complete opposite to.
He shuddered, and tried to push away any thoughts of that place out of his mind. He shook his head, chasing the thoughts away, and set his mind back on the office he sat in. He reached up and ran his hand through his recently cut hair, half expecting to find it long and matted, to come across a twig or a leaf that had become entangled within large knots that seemed to get larger every day. But his hair was short and free of tangles and knots. He frowned. He was thinking about it again.
He pushed all those thoughts aside and turned his mind to why he had been brought here. He had already guessed it had something to do with his father, as it was a military building, and he had seen several people in uniforms, looking stern and serious as he had walked through the building with the woman who had been looking after him for the past week. He hoped they were going to tell him when his father was coming back. He had not seen his father for a long time, not since he had gone on that fateful aeroplane journey. He wasn't sure how long it had been exactly, he had lost track of time there.
Just before he went back down that dark train of thought, the door opened. He turned in his chair to see the person entering the room. A middle aged man wearing an impressive uniform walked in. He had short, closely cropped dark brown hair, which was starting to grey at the temples, and brown, serious eyes. He was tall, and had an air of authority about him, making him seem very imposing. The man walked across the room, and he noticed the man had a limp. It was almost unnoticeable, but it was perceptible. That must be why he was here, and not off fighting somewhere, because other then that, he seemed in perfect physical health. He watched as the man sat down behind the desk.
"Hello. My name is Captain Barneswood. You must be wondering why we asked you to come here."
It had crossed his mind once or twice.
"Well, as you know, your father had been sent off on a special mission just after you left."
It had been mentioned once. Just after they had come to collect him from the naval base. He'd asked where his father was. They had told him he was on a mission. It was one of the few parts of the last week he could remember. The rest of it had blurred together, ever since he had stepped onto the boat with the other boys. He could barely remember the journey home, or what he'd had for breakfast, come to think of it.
"His ship was taken over by the enemy troops, and until today we didn't know what had happened."
A heavy sense of dread came over him. This wasn't what he had been expecting. He had been expecting to be told that he would be able to see his father, that he was on his way to see him at this very moment. Now it seemed as if it would be even longer till he came back. Who knows how long it would take his father to escape and get home.
"I know this may be hard for you to hear, you being so young, but it was felt you had a right to know what had happened."
Barneswood paused, looking him straight in the eye. He felt uncomfortable, but didn't look away. The news couldn't be too bad, as long as his father was coming home. So many terrible things had happened already, nothing would come as a shock to him now, nothing that bad could ever happen again.
"The entire crew was killed."
Barneswood's words hit him like a sledgehammer. It couldn't be true, he refused to believe it. The whole crew couldn't just.die. But it didn't matter really. His father wasn't part of the crew. He was a temporary commanding officer, not part of the crew.
"However,"
His spirit rose. There, a however. This meant that there was more to be said, about his father. He wasn't dead, there was a however.
"As the commanding officer, your father was taken for questioning."
There. Taken for questioning. He had to be alive.
"We're not sure what happened during the questioning, but we do know what happened afterwards."
He must have escaped. Now he must be hiding somewhere, waiting to come home.
"I'm afraid your father was killed"
There was a second after Barneswood said that, when he didn't seem to hear it. The, the words reached him, and he stared at Barneswood, frozen in shock, his eyes begging the man to say it wasn't true, that his father wasn't.was alive.
The room was silent, except for the faint sounds coming from the corridor. He sat staring into space, replaying the words over and over in his mind. Your father was killed. Your father was killed. Your father was killed. Your father was. He opened his mouth to say no, to scream, to shout at Barneswood for saying it, that he was wrong, that he was lying, to burst into tears. Nothing came out. He just sat there, staring, his mouth open. Barneswood continued.
"We were able to find his body, but it was believed it was originally dropped onto one of several tropical islands. It seemed as though he had been there for some time."
It was at this point that a memory started to come back to him, forcing it's way into his mind. He could hear thunder rumbling and crashing, and a steady chanting. Suddenly, the chanting changed to screaming and shouting. In the background, a small voice was shouting about a body on the hill.
He was trembling now. It couldn't be possible, it just couldn't. All that time, and.and image of a decaying face flashed in his mind, and he let out a small, choked cry.
Barneswood looked at the boy. "I know it must be hard, hearing this, but." He paused as he noticed the look of horror on the boy's face. "Are you all right? It must come as a shock. If there's anything I can do." He trailed off again, when he showed no sign of recognition. Then, slowly, the boy raised his eyes his eyes to meet Barneswood's. They were filled with grief and terror, and something else Barneswood couldn't put his finger on. He was hesitant now, not sure of what he would find if he asked any more questions. "Ralph, are you alright?"