SPECIAL A/N, READ IT:
Disclaimer: I have no claim over the intellectual property of The Lord of the Flies.
Trigger warning for violence and death.
A/N: I wrote this for English, and since it's not for a grade and I far exceeded what I was supposed to do (I would have posted it even if it had been graded...), so here it is! Doubtful I will post another fanfiction of this, but who knows...Anyway, here is the story and hopefully it's okay (I had to copy and paste to get it on here, so...)
Ralph gave a cry as he staggered to his feet, pain stabbing him as his adrenaline died, trying to run towards the sea. He could hear the other boys behind him, and he stumbled over his feet. He whimpered as he lay on the shore, the waves lapping at his feet.
He glanced up as footsteps approached him, and lifted his head to see who it was. Roger stood above him with the double-pointed stick and a malicious grin.
Roger...no...," Ralph muttered as he began to scoot away. He was weak, and Roger stepped on his back, forcing Ralph's face into the sand.
"Shut up, Ralph," Roger said, lifting the stick above his head. The other pounded behind, trying to catch up to Roger and join in. Roger plunged the stick downwards and a loud scream halted the other boys. Roger ripped the stick out of Ralph's back, eliciting another scream, and flipped it over. He drove the stick through Ralph's head and his body fell still.
Roger looked down at Ralph and grinned. He leaned down and touched the body that was still warm as the others joined back with him.
Is he dead?"
"No one can question Jack now." Sam and Eric glanced at each other, one of them wiping their eyes. The fire roared in the background as Jack stepped forward.
"Dispose of the body," he commanded, "Throw it into the sea or the fire, I don't care." The red-haired boy looked down at their former leader and shook his head. He should have joined them when he had the chance. Roger reluctantly moved away as a few other boys collected Ralph and proceeded towards the sea.
Jack turned towards their camps and watched as the fire ate at the island. It would make it difficult to head back, but he was sure they could do it. Some of the fire was already going out.
"Maybe the beast won't bother us, maybe we drove it away," a young 'un muttered behind Jack. He tensed up, but said nothing as he began to march back to Castle Rock. The other boys followed. Sam and Eric hesitated, glancing back towards the sea. Ralph had been carelessly dumped at the very edge of the sea, his body still partially on the sand.
The sea pulled at the bloodied body, eventually sweeping it out to sea as the twins watched their former leader finally depart from the island. He was free, just as Simon, Piggy and the boy with the mulberry mark. They were gone, and now all that was left was something else. The twins shuddered and turned to follow the other boys.
Months began to blur into years, though the boys were hardly aware of the passage of time, and the island began to recover from the great fire. The young 'uns, those who survived under Jack's reign and the second great fire. The big 'uns were entering manhood, and they had practically lost every memory of life before the island. Roger grew more dangerous, though Jack ignored it in favor of keeping the others in line. The others saw began to see Roger as the real authority over their tribe, scarier than the Beast Jack still feared.
Now, it seemed, leadership was about to change hands once more.
Jack's feet pounded against the ashy ground on the mountain. He was exposed, so very exposed, to his pursuers. He didn't dare glance back, for he knew Roger would be holding his spear in a throwing position.
"I'm your leader!" Jack yelled, his voice hoarse from yelling all night. The sun was just rising above the mountain, whose peak he was quickly approaching. Jack stumbled and fell. His mouth filled with a ashes, and he gagged as he tried to pull himself back up.
"You are not getting away, Jack. Your reign is over," Roger said. Jack flinched, not realizing how quickly the now grown Roger had gotten.
"I. Am. Your. Leader," Jack hissed, gritting his rotten teeth. Roger simply smiled and kicked Jack in the face. There was a crack and Jack felt blood begin to leak into his mouth.
"And now you shall fall," Roger grinned, "Just like Ralph." Jack lunged at Roger. He would not fall like Ralph, he would not be weak!
Jack grabbed Roger's arm and threw him down, and Roger's spear was flung from both their grasps. Roger snarled at Jack, grabbing his face and flinging the skinny Jack. Jack had grown gaunt over the years while Roger had grown bigger and stronger. Jack did not realize the change between them both until this moment.
"Roger, please...We had a good system...We hunted, and feasted, and kept the others in line...Roger, I don't understand," Jack pleaded. His grip loosened momentarily on the young man on the ground. Roger stared at his dirty and bloody face before launching himself forward and forcing Jack back onto the ground.
"Nothing is ever enough...I must do this, you understand," Roger muttered, sounding half-mad to Jack. His eyes widened in fear as Roger placed his hand over his throat and kneed his abdomen.
"Roger...," Jack moaned as he reached towards his stomach in pain. Roger moved and Jack struggled to breathe as Roger backed away. As Jack began to get his bearings, he suddenly became suspicious of Roger's actions.
"Roger?" Jack asked weakly, attempting to sit up. He was knocked down as a thick stick hit him in the head. Roger had gotten his spear.
"No! Roger, no!" Jack cried. He began to thrash as Roger kicked him to his side and Jack turned to lunge at him.
Roger thrust his spear downward. Jack's head bent backwards as the spear went through his forehead and lodged itself there. Roger frowned at his spear; he hadn't expected it to get stuck. He gritted his teeth and pulled, blood and gore coming from Jack's head as the spear wrenched free.
"That's done." Roger turned and headed down the mountain. The others waited at the bottom and watched as Roger descended, ready to begin his reign as leader.