The Last Of The Flies

Depression. The only thing I had felt back then upon that dreadful boat. The little ones had been screaming happily whilst running around. Jack and his dreary choir were avoiding everyone while discussing the events that had transpired upon the island. But for me all I could do was think back on those that we left behind. Piggy, whose real name I'll never know. Simon, whose death had been by everyone's hand… including my own. And all of the unnamed children whose fates I'll never know. I felt miserable with myself for I could've averted many of those deaths if I had just been more careful.

Once the boat had taken us to England. We saw the horror that the war had brought upon England and most of the world. It was a desolate place. London, my home, was just a pile of rubble now. I told my name to the customs officer my name and he told me that my father had been on leave at the time that London had been destroyed. Orphaned, I looked around at the small town that was hastily being rebuilt. All the other kids were gone. I was alone again.

20 Years Later…

When I turned twenty I had vowed to myself that as soon as I could I would return to the island, which had recently been renamed Skull Island, and pay homage to my departed friends. And now that time had finally arrived.

Skull Island

20 Years after Rescue

The trees and plants had all grown back since the great fire. It looked untouched by human hands but of course I knew better. The huts had collapsed long ago but I could still make out their rough frames. The coconut shells that we had used for water oddly were still there, and still empty.

I walked to the top of the mountain next. Somehow the remains of the fire were still there. I also walked around looking for something reminiscent of the beast I had seen in my childhood, but found nothing. Next I headed for the creek that we had bathed in as kids.

There was absolutely nothing to show that anyone had ever been there. As I turned to leave I thought I saw the remnants of a large sandcastle, but it was only my imagination. I pictured Percival or one of the other children attempting to build the magnificent thing. I sighed and moved on.

As I arrived on the coast near Castle Rock, I grimaced as I remembered the boulder that had ended Piggy's life. I knelt down and picked up a shard of what could only be a broken conch shell. I stopped to recall all of the times it had been used; the first day upon the island when I had called all of the kids together, the day we had missed the boat when the fire had gone out, and the last day we were here on the island. I shuddered as the images of Piggy being killed by the boulder as it knocked him into the cruel oceans unforgiving waves.

I stood and walked up to Castle Rock determined to witness everything on this island. I had never thought that Jack had gotten so many pigs. But there were skeletons scattered all about the castle. But the scariest thing about it was that only a few of the skeletons resembled pigs and also none of the skeletons had a head.

Disturbed, I left the old home of Jack's tribe. As I walked to the dock where the ferry was waiting to take me home, the shadows seemed to grow and reach towards me. I shuddered and rushed into a field. And what I saw caused me to fall back up against a tree. All around the field were skulls on sticks and the majority of them were human skulls.

"It would seem that you've come back, old friend."

I whirled about and saw Jack holding a pistol and a machete. "Jack! What is the meaning of this?"

"Simple, I'm just tying up loose ends. Over the years everyone has revisited the island to remember what transpired here twenty years ago, and one by one they've all died by my hand. You are the last one, old friend."

He lifted the gun and pointed it towards me. "Good-bye old friend."

Nothing is all I see, hear, or feel now. For all is gone. Of the survivors of the island… Jack is the only one left now.

Just a school essay I thought I would put up.