AN: I have way too much fun writing death scenes. I find that Piggy's death is the most grotesque in the book, but Simon's hit me much harder... Hm...
I don't particularly like this, and I wasn't very thorough with editing it... I kinda just had a sudden craving for some blood and gore so I whipped this out real quick. Not as gorey as I would've liked it but decent enough to be considered at least satisfactory.
Warnings: Blood. Gore (not really that bad, but you shouldn't really trust my opinion). Character death. Rating can (and will) be changed on request. Oh, and, possible ooc-ness too. (Only second time writing for Lord of the Flies, after all.) This is really quite short as well.
Disclaimer: ...Yeah. Disclaimer.
I love critiques and suggestions for improvement. If there is anything (even the tiniest little off sentence), tell me, please!
Otherwise, feel free to not review if you don't want to. (My policy on reviews is: if you want to review, great; if you don't, great.)
He had been scared, sure, but he hadn't really expected anything other than a few injuries. He hadn't even expected any real major injuries, even despite the other boys' apparent detestation of him, and he certainly hadn't expected death.
The concept of death is not an altogether foreign one to him.
He, of course, knows what it is, but he never fully understood the implications.
Or, rather, he had been unwilling to understand.
So, the thoughts of death had been pushed into the back of his mind, made an unreality. It had been easy to forget, to not worry. He is only a child, after all. There is little chance that he will be faced with a sudden end for years to come.
And, even when the others turned savage, degrading back to their animalistic roots, Piggy did not truly believe that they--mere children still, like him and Ralph--could, would, kill.
So, when the boulder comes, barrelling at him, Piggy does not expect it. And, even when he sees it, he is unable to react properly in time, too caught up in his own disbelief to fully realize the magnitude of the situation.
It is only when he is pushed off the cliff does he truly understand.
I'm going to die.
In a matter of seconds, thousands upon thousands of emotions fill his head.
Anger. Sadness. Fear. Hatred. Panic. Anxiety.
But, most of all, a sense of resignation.
It's over.
No more Ralph. No more Jack. No more Roger. No more island. No more being rescued. No more being called Piggy.
And, as he falls, he feels the layers that made up the intelligent and level-headed "Piggy" peel away from himself. Layer after layer seems to detach and float away into the sky or fall down into the ocean below until, at last, all that is a thin shell, a mere husk. And, the only emotion that he could feel is emptiness.
Then, his head collides with the rocks below.
A sharp, ringing pain.
And, suddenly, all his emotions come rushing back.
No, no, no, no, no!
He couldn't see anymore. There is only pain, a vivid, maddening pain. It is more painful, more destructive, than anything Piggy has ever experienced. It is such simple, raw pain that the boy attempts to cry out but finds that his vocal cords have lost their use. He is not able to make a sound as he is consumed by the pain.
No!
Wet. Blood.
No!
By now, he cannot think anymore. Only, his body continues to fight, continues to try to live. It is a conditioned response, a habit, and it doesn't last very long.
N--!
The last thing that he thinks is that one letter, and the last thing he sees is the clear, blue sky above him.
His body is broken on the rocks. His head is cracked open, with the brain matter spilling out. The white mush and the blood mix together, dripping into the water, staining it a red, grotesque mess.
Piggy's eyes are open, unseeing, mouth twisted into a cry of silent anguish.
Moments later, a wave comes up and brings the boy out to sea, taking him where it had taken the two that had gone before.