Original Sin

Chapter I:

Survival of the Fittest

Title: Original Sin

Rated: M

Summary: We are all indeed animals, someone once said to me. Civility is a mere illusionary games we presume in order to feel closer to God but once it starts to crack, we will regress back to savages more savage than beasts themselves. Stranded alone and left to scavenge for survival on an unknown island, I have now come to see the truth in his words for I had to devolve into a pure instinctual being in order to live. I soon realise, with the arrival of group of boys, that he has left one thing out: the animal's insatiable hunger. Not a physical hunger for food, no, a hunger for something else entirely.

A/N: Hi guys, so because one of my dear reader (and a friend) asked me if I could write a story for Lord of the Flies and I have really enjoyed this story in my English lit class because of the rich symbolism and philosophical meanings in the novel, I decided to go ahead and write it. As a psychology major (well way before doing psychology in university), I've always been fascinated by humanity in general and with the controversial subjects this novel was known for, I decided to add my own twist to it and yes, it will to some of you contain some controversial subjects with my own interpretation of the novel but if you think about young children, they do have and exhibit some sociopathic traits and children in this book, before they could be fully indoctrinated to the acceptable and appropriate ways of society including social norm and rules, they are whisked away into inhibited island left with only their peers and no adult's guidance (authority), there are bound to have very dark and sinister incidences occurring no matter how much we adults (well adolescents/teens/young adults whatever you like to describe yourself but since you're reading this story, I'm assuming you're old or at least mature enough to have established morals) like to think children as innocent, naïve and kind, if you think about the children's mouldable mentality, they can be more scarier than adults in terms of predictability.

Character descriptions

Since I've have seen the film that came out in 1990 as opposed to 1963 (my teacher liked the 1990 than 1963 thus she made us watch that so we didn't really have much choice), I'll be basing character description on actors that played their respective characters in 1990 however for character Roger, I'll be basing off his description from 1963 one because I've discussed this with my friend who was in same class and thought that since Roger is the most evil one, I and her thought it was good idea to go for Roger who was significantly younger looking in 1963 than in 1990 version because I think there's some kind of uneasiness in seeing glimpses of 'evilness' in younger children than in adolescent.

You can watch the 1990 (and 1963 one as well I think) film on youtube by the way. By the way, my story is set in WWII because the author didn't really specified the year it was set in other than that it's set during wartime evacuation and corresponding the book's release year (1954), I think the author wrote it with WWII in mind.

BTW did anyone watch Lord of the Flies - Thug Notes Summary and Analysis? I was laughing the whole way and actually helped me pass the class! XD

My story will run differently from the novel, as in the book, the characters I estimate had been on the island for at least few months but less than a year from the descriptions I've analysed such as having longer hair, bleached skin and most noticeably some children developing Kwashiorkor and this type of malnutrition does not take a mere few weeks to develop therefore they would have been on the island for at least few months. But in my story, the children won't be rescued by the naval officer after those few months or so, rather few years will past for the boys to adapt into the lifestyle and for them to grow to be a man on the island.

Someone once said we are indeed animals. Even if walk on two, wear clothes, talk, feel or create something beautiful, in core, we are as equal as pets we tame. He said the humanity was playing a dangerous game. A game where pretend to be similar, if not at least seemingly alike in some parts of as well as look, to God. But no matter how many decades, centuries or millennium, we play such game, what we really are will not completely disappear. Even if we mask them, it would soon find a crack to slip through unknowingly, giving us a glimpse of what we truly are much to our disgust and denial. And once those instincts are unleashed, eons of suppression would have devastating consequences and perhaps, he said, we would become more inhumane than beasts and it won't be long before we eat each other..

Rustle

The herd of ears perked up at the sound, its slender neck snapping up at the warning of potential prey nearby. Deer stilled for good few minutes for any other triggers before returning to feed on the leaves, soon forgetting the hidden danger lurking in the shadow of the bushes.

Through the small hole of foliage, a brown eye peek the preys sharply, observing for any openings in its herd system. Crouched in small space, I waited for one to come near for I have learnt through years of trial and error, a good hunter do not chase after its prey wasting unnecessary energy, it waits for it to come to them with their own paws.

I saw a small baby deer approaching the bush I was hidden tentatively, its small mouth opening to bite the green, I sprint out of my hiding place, startling the herd into panicked frenzy as they stampeded toward the opposite direction, abandoning the baby deer. My arms snakes around its frail neck and hold it there before I make a clean cut on its throat with sharpened rock makeshift as knife. It was always good to make sure the prey was dead as soon as after it was caught, a painless death always made for a good quality meat. The one who died in suffering made sure whoever eats them also tasted their pain, like an insult from their grave to those responsible and I can almost describe its tastes as acidic and tough – one of much knowledge I've discovered throughout the first few years of my clumsy struggle to adapt to the lifestyle.

I can only estimate the years I've been living in the island as around five or six years, it wasn't until I discovered a cave I now call my home and carved the days with the rock in tally mark and that was at least a good few weeks after I found myself stranded here. I had been a mere 16 year old, not a girl but not yet a woman, when cruise ship my family were on sank and I had been the only survivor as I know and being young, adaption while it was difficult as it was, I was sure it was more easier than if I had been an adult.

I'm not sure how old I am, but I'm sure I was in my early twenties from the womanly curves I have now developed and trailing blood between my thighs, alerting me that I have started my menstrual cycle for this month. Once, I'd have put a cloth under it to absorb the blood but now I let it flow down on me, having no care for such thing no more nor the care for my current nudity. They say Adam and Eve fell the moment they felt shame of their nakedness, perhaps because they became more 'human' like we were now but regressing back to a more primitive state I was now, those shame has long faded. Of course, I have nearly lost myself to the animal I let it overcome me if it weren't for the necklace that hung closely to my neck. It was a simple but powerful reminder, a picture of me and my parent that constantly reminded me who I was and should be, even if I must become an 'animal' to survive; there are things one must not give up as the ultimate predator.

Dragging the carcass up the hill and through the jungle, I've arrived to my cave, an ideal place where its entrance was hidden by foliage and height and nearby was waterfall that made perfect place for me to wash and drink. Dropping my food on the ground, I drained of its remaining blood and started to skin it, intending to use its fur as either blanket or binder for my breast that would become sensitive and aching during the time of the month whenever I ran or even stayed still.

Gutting the deer and getting rid of inedible parts to the ground, I cleaned and cut the meat and fruits I've already collected into small pieces, piercing it through the sharp, thin branch as rotisserie to make kebabs and putting each end on andiron I made from evenly shaped rocks to hold it above the flickering fire to not let outside burn more quicker than the inside.

The deer meat was ideal as medium rare and in half an hour on gentle heat; the meat was ready to eat and I bit into its juicy flesh. It wasn't long before I finished the food, being hungrier during my bleeding week than usual. Craving something sweet, I searched for some berries I usually indulged in, finding it just little distance away from home.

After finishing the food, I took a hold of a cinnamon tree stick, using it as toothbrush. It was only through a painful ordeal of tooth decay which I had no choice but to wretch it out with whatever sharp thing I could find, I had searched for something I could use to clean my teeth did I remember my father, a doctor, mentioning something about teeth cleaning twig people have used before the invention of toothbrush or toothpaste, only wishing I paid attention to which type of tree sticks had such property. Using common sense, trial and error, I had settled on cinnamon tree I've found while exploring the island.

Noting the dried, crusty blood on my inner thigh, I decided a bath would be nice and headed to the waterfall, diving eagerly into the cool blue water. I watched as little fishes swam by before coming up the water for a big gulp of air. Resting my arms and chin on a smaller rock, I opened the locket, revealing the gentle faces of my parent and myself, back straight and strictly composed for the camera.

"So I hunted a baby deer today, mama, decided to cook as kebab and I had berries, too. I wish you could have tasted my food, it was lovely." I said, having myself for a company meant I was constantly lonely and would utter something to myself and laugh to myself.

Climbing out of the water, I immediately picked up a rock before beginning to trim my overgrown nails carefully, stopping every now and then to check for desirable length and bluntness of the nails that it won't get in the way with demanding activities. I wouldn't want another broken nail or two.

Done for the day, I look up at the clear sky. I didn't have any friends except for the occasional small animals curious enough to come near in hope for food I'd give them nor did I have any family. Everyone I know would surely believe I was dead by now, after all, one could, even with a very strong bond, would not hope a girl who had gone missing for god knows how long was still alive. I was bound to live and die in this island all alone, I always seemed to realise at the end of the same repetitive thought of the day and it always ended with few tears too.

I wiped them away with the back of my hand, there's no need of crying over something that won't change no matter what and headed back to my home, a large cave hoarded with random objects I had picked up from the shore that would often arrive at the island like post. There was empty bottles, a pocket watch frozen in time, a conch I thought was pretty, rubber duck, bananas that had fallen from cargo ships, odd pairs of shoes, dolls, party dresses, wigs, knives, scissors, divorce papers, ice skates and other sundries.

I always used those objects to think of a story, a couple going on a date to an ice rink, a marriage that started out as fairy tale but ended in tragedy as reality sank in, a woman eagerly waiting for her party dress to arrive for a beautiful ball where she might meet the love of her life or she had one already as her date, something like that, something so insignificance and ordinary but something that was a faraway dream to me. The scissor though, I couldn't help but wonder whether it would be used to make someone's hair pretty or an instrument to end someone's life. But in my hand, the scissor was used to aid my survival, either as a stabbing weapon or hair cutting instrument, though I preferred self-made spear for long distance hunting. I discovered that possessing longer hair was more useful than the short boy cut I used to adorn, each strands acted as somewhat of an extension to my five senses or more like a cognisant sixth sense that it allowed me to 'feel' my surroundings(1) more sensitively hence my curly hair, a nod to my father, reached just below my spine so that it would cover enough ground when I sit down for any creeping animals.

Venturing deeper inside was my bedroom, small but spacious dome shaped part of the cave where I had piled my fur collections to cushion my back from the rough, uneven surface and near the corner was died out fire I had lit the night before. I would have normally just lied down if it won't for the dripping blood but tonight, I'd have to sacrifice one of my dear furs and I was thankful that I'd gotten one this morning, a baby deer, just big enough to be used as a one-off wear. I start lighting the fire by putting small balls of dried mosses I've collected in bulks between slightly split dried tinder to hold the plant in place, I used the thick pencil shaped stick to make friction sawing back and forth with all my might, pressing it down in the groove. A tiny wisp of smoke appears, grabs the nest of shavings, and blows on it, transferring the rousing flame onto tepee as it lick out, catch and grow.

The air was still and the dim flame barely flickered, steady and bright enough to relieve the darkness of the cave to create a warm, inviting and sensual ambiance that made a perfect atmosphere to gently fall asleep to like a silent lullaby where no words were needed. Spreading out the deer fur beneath my spine, I opened the locket, tracing the soft curves of my mother's face, "Another day has ended, mummy…I wish I could see you…both of you but I know such wish won't come true." I chattered away about my day more, what I did, what I ate, how the weather was, just a boring ordinary day before putting my lip onto the picture as a goodnight kiss and unclasped the necklace, placing to my side for me to admire. As the light flickered to near end, my eyes drooped heavily, the picture blurring into swirls of faded black and white before it faded into total darkness as was the room.

I woke up the next day, fresh and ready for whatever coming my way. Standing up, I took the deer fur with me that had absorbed the blood throughout the night to throw away later. I emerged from the cave, climbed down the tree that was the only way out and to my home, nonchalantly grabbing a small grasshopper I saw before throwing it in my mouth. I liked grasshopper for their crunchy texture rather than the taste although without any bugs, I'd have starved. Insects and bugs had been my only food source for a year or so before I was able to climb to the top of the food chain and sometimes, when I wanted something crisp and chewy in place of a cookie, I preferred grasshoppers over other bugs. Less slime and grossness I guess.

Soaking myself into the water, rubbing the crusted blood dried onto my legs, I tilted my head back to allow the cool water to soak my scalp, enjoying the sensation as I stared up at the sky, its blueness never failed to amaze me how blue the sky was.

Then the blue sky darkened ominously with blackish grey smog with a loud disturbing whirring sliced through the air too close for my comfort, it sounded as if the Heaven was crashing down to Earth like erupted volcano. Glancing up my shoulder, I saw a loud plane loomed over my head dangerously close, dust particles snowing down like snowflakes and with devastating crash of metal colliding with the ground; it skidded across considerable distance before deathly silence fall upon the whole island.

I dashed out from the fall, running through the forest to where I last heard the sound. For once I was excited, hopeful that there were any survivors there, any chance for rescue, any contact with the humans, to talk and touch even if it were for a minute. How long has it been since I've last talked with another human being? How long I've last touched someone other than myself? To talk and be talked back, to hear someone else's voice other than myself. Would their voice be high or low, quiet or loud, feminine or masculine? Stumbling down the jungle, I arrived on the shore, seeing the scattered parts of plane floating on sea, some washed ashore. I picked up a burnt teddy bear, something a child would have and sadness set in that whoever owned this doll would not be alive.

Then something caught my eye, a dark figure merging from the water, heading to the shore. The black blob got bigger as it neared to the surface and at the weary approach of a stranger, I immediately crouched to the sand, hiding my bare body and it slowly dawned on me as if biting the sinful fruit again, the realisation of me being naked sunk in with shame and embarrassment although to a lesser degree than I would have before. I ran back to the safety of the jungle's shadow, watching the scene unfold from a thick tree as they arrived to the lagoon.

I saw it was a boy, a young boy quite tall for his age wearing what it looks to be a school uniform. I turned and ran without looking back.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter and leave your thoughts in review! I'd really appreciate how you guys thought about it. Apparently grasshoppers are known as future food source though I'll have to verify it more deeply. I did my best to portray how a girl, having once lived in a civilised society, became feral to survive and the nonchalance toward things we may find it weird and disgusting but this is what happens. If you see it and experience it often enough, it becomes 'normal' to your eyes and our views toward it does change to neutral/passiveness but at the sight of another humans, it's like a reminder of what she is and who she was before and it comes to her slowly and numbly before it explodes like some kind of epiphany but of course, barely being able to remember because to survive, she had literally focused all her will and mind to adapting to a more primitive lifestyle, so without professional intervention, she'll still lack something that other people who have lived in civilised society all her life would notice – it will be those subtle, unconscious things we'd notice without us knowing like our brain does when it searches for something common we share as same species (inherent and exterior humane qualities) or nationality or ethnicity.

(1) Did you know that in some experiments done to study whether having long or short hair is more advantage for survival; it has been found that having longer hair is more advantageous. The test went something like this:

The recruit is sleeping out in the woods. An armed 'enemy' approaches the sleeping man. The long haired man is awakened out of his sleep by a strong sense of danger and gets away long before the enemy is close, long before any sounds from the approaching enemy are audible. In another version of this test the long haired man senses an approach and somehow intuits that the enemy will perform a physical attack. He follows his 'sixth sense' and stays still, pretending to be sleeping, but quickly grabs the attacker and 'kills' him as the attacker reaches down to strangle him. This same man, after having passed these and other tests, then received a military haircut and consistently failed these tests, and many other tests that he had previously passed. So the document recommended that all Indian trackers be exempt from military haircuts. In fact, it required that trackers keep their hair long.

The mammalian body has evolved over millions of years. Survival skills of human and animal at times seem almost supernatural. Science is constantly coming up with more discoveries about the amazing abilities of man and animal to survive. Each part of the body has highly sensitive work to perform for the survival and well-being of the body as a whole. The body has a reason for every part of itself. Hair is an extension of the nervous system, it can be correctly seen as exteriorized nerves, a type of highly evolved \'feelers\' or \'antennae\' that transmit vast amounts of important information to the brainstem, the limbic system, and the neocortex.

Not only does hair in people, including facial hair in men, provide an information highway reaching the brain, hair also emits energy, the electromagnetic energy emitted by the brain into the outer environment. This has been seen in Kirlian photography when a person is photographed with long hair and then rephotographed after the hair is cut. When hair is cut, receiving and sending transmissions to and from the environment are greatly hampered. This results in numbing-out.