Emily Cox
Lord of the Flies Alternate Ending
"He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher. He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling over and over in the warm sand, crouching with arm to ward off, trying to cry for mercy."
Ralph staggered to his feet and stared with wide, dread filled eyes as the painted hunters ran towards him, ignoring his pleas. With a last surge of adrenaline, he spun on his heel and ran. Unfortunately, as terror seized his heart, Ralph's body began to lock up and he collapsed once again, but unlike the last time he was not able to get back up. As the hunters surrounded him, screeching their war-cry, Ralph tried to ward them of by waving his arms and weakly throwing sand into their eyes to no avail.
Completely worn out from his failed dash to escape, he could nothing but cry out as he felt himself being poked and prodded by sharpened sticks. A few of the older, larger boys then came up behind him and jerked his arms behind his back, and started pushing him to an unknown destination. After what felt to be hours of pain and utter shock at the situation Ralph found himself in, they stopped moving. His wrists were tied together and he was thrown down at the feet of none other than a paint covered Jack, who was sneering at him with a triumphant gleam in his eye.
"Who is the chief now?" He mumbled as if to himself as he crouched down. Ralph said nothing, just sat, glaring icily at the other.
"Roger! You know what to do." Jack turned to Ralph and smirked, stepping to the side allowing the larger savage to take his place in front of the bound boy.
Ralph felt his eyes grow wide as he looked at the huge stick that Roger was carrying with a sadistic grin. Both ends were sharpened to wicked points, one could only guess what they were going to use it for. Ralph then recalled his last conversation with Samneric, they had warned him about Roger and the stick with two sharpened sides, the only question was why; what was going to happen to him? Unfortunately for Ralph he found out all too soon.
He found himself being roughly puled to his feet by his upper arms, and had to bite his tongue to prevent from whimpering when their clutches aggravated the many lacerations and bruises that covered him. When he looked to Roger once again he saw one end of the stick pointed at the middle of his torso. A dark thought flashed through his mind and he began struggling, trying to put as much distance between himself and the apex that began to move closer to him.
His throes were quelled though by the grips on his arms that didn't loosen, but grew tighter. As the tip of the sharpened staff pressed against the soft skin of his stomach, Ralph heard Jack say something, but the blood rushing from his head as he grew pale drowned the words out.
Roger pressed harder, and Ralph screamed.