Omniscient Spirit
I watched as my body burned below me. The fire hadn't killed me, the beastie did. At least the fire saved my body from the nastiness of being eaten. It was still being eaten, just by the fire and not by an animal. As my body slowly burned away, I remembered my last few minutes of life.
I had been helping find wood for the fire. The excitement of the other boys had caught me up and my fear of the beastie was pushed to the back of my mind. At first us little ones brought larger branches that we carried together. We soon grew tired of that and it was each their own as we scavenged for sticks we could carry. The twins had been camping before; they bragged loudly enough I could hear them through the dense foliage. So they gathered leaves to help get the fire started. None of us others understood why they needed leaves, but they had been camping before, so they might know.
I went far into the trees, searching for big sticks to throw on the woodpile. The excitement that had filled me was slowly replaced with fear as I realized I was alone. I could barely see the light of the sun through the trees. I whimpered quietly and tried calling for the other boys, but the sound caught in my throat. A slight noise, like the rustling of leaves in fall, except muted, so more like something slithering through grass, startled me. The beastie that had lurked in the dark corners of my mind slithered into the forefront.
I turned in a circle, my eyes wide to help my search. Even the smallest movements of a leaf nudged by the wind made me jump in fright. Then, a twig snapped behind me. In my fright I had dropped the sticks I had been carrying. I froze in fright. When nothing happened after a few seconds, I turned around slowly to face my beastie.
Pain, that is all I know. I did not see my beastie; all I know is that it got me. As I lay fallen, tangled in the roots of trees and bushes, fire burned through my veins. It was a few moments before I noticed the real fire, the one that burned the green surrounding me. I wanted to run away from the fires, the one in my veins and the one around me. It was just as the real fire was inches from me that I blacked out.
The next thing I knew, I seemed to be floating above my own body. I knew I was dead. I was a spirit, and spirits are all-knowing. The only thing I did not know was what exactly had killed me. For a few minutes, I watch my body burn. I am thankful I cannot smell anymore, for I know the stench of my burning flesh would make me throw up if I were still tangible.
I decide to find the others, all the others. As I get closer, I hear Piggy shouting for me, the Mulberry Boy. I want to tell him, but I cannot. My name is John, and I am dead.