Hello! This is my first fanfic for Lord of the Flies, and frankly I'm a bit nervous because it's new content.
I know it gets annoying when people say this, but please review or critize! I'm always open to suggestions on how to improve!
Thank you and enjoy!
All great stories are told on the most wonderful of nights.
A clear sky, free from the blemishes of clouds and smog, with a dark blue sky dotted by sparkling stars, underneath where a sleeping city lay oblivious to the beauty above it.
Or maybe a town, nestled in the country side, with sheep and cattle grazing humbly in the pastures, where the weather was too warm for them to be shut up in a barn.
In either scenario, a child is left gazing out of their window on the top floor of the home; wishing to escape their boring and predictable life. The parents are always ignorant of the child's wishes to be free, or that they are even the slightest bothered by their so called 'perfect life'.
Tonight however, was not a beautiful scene cut from a story book filled with wonder and adventure, no magical fairies or vile witches to cast the hero into perilous situations.
There was no sight of stars, or even the tiniest trace of the moon smiling down at the earth with it's lopsided, Cheshire cat grin. Windows were kept locked tight, as if the adults feared the tormented storm outside of the brick laid townhouse would slither through their doors and wreck havoc amongst their valuables.
It was winter, a dreary, bitterly cold season. Especially in the big city, where the smog and factory smoke already suffocated its inhabitants from the sun; a job the snow clouds did not need to overtake. Streets were lined with snow banks and piles, reaching the point where the city folk were troubled by the amount falling dreamily from the sky.
Earlier, the man on the television claimed with resentment that more snow was to cover their usually bustling home. Many residents, however, seemed to take it upon themselves to hide themselves indoors, inconsiderately ignoring their duties to clean out their walkways, making the trip from home to work or to school even more tedious.
Downstairs, the doorway hardwood floor was soaked with melted snow, carried in through the children's outdoor adventures with igloos and polar bears, and the parents' grumbling home from work at the bank. Although mother didn't work, she still made many trips out to the neighbours' lots.
Without adult guidance present at all times, mischievous and misdemeanour was soon to follow.
The family at this particular brown bricked townhouse were an odd sort according to the neighbourhood daily gossip. With the father being a mousy, meek man, hiding behind his desk at the capital bank, it was a controversy when he married such a beautiful woman. Beauty like a movie star, lavished in the finest furs and the most adoring perfume, she was considered a fashion plate by the many female neighbours, and also a continuous beckon for envy.
Many rumours circled around the street where the family lived, from financial issues to the crudest deceptions of adultery and illness. It was often speculated that the Fairweather's were involved in some sort of illegal doing, with Mrs. Fairweather adorning her expensive materialistic items for all of the public to see. Or, that her youngest son was not even Mr. Fairweather's blood, rather a fairly rich man's who lived up town in a fancy villa with a welcoming fountain and circle drive.
These gossips however, would not choose to believe that Mrs. Fairweather inherited her fine expensive from her mother when she passed on. Or that the youngest son, Percival, appeared unique to the family because of Mr. Fairweather's father's recessive genes.
People would believe what they wished to believe.
Young Percival was in reality a very darling child, with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. He was considered ignorant to the world's defects, and found joy in all things. Never a disappointment to his family, he had the promises of a proud appearance and a successful job.
The Fairweather's oldest son, however, was considered to be prodigal.
Ralph had the true makings of a flourishing life. With an attractive appearance that made society swoon to his whim and the athletic build of an honest craftsman, he captivated the attention of all that he met. Gifted with an angel's charisma and the wit of a fox, he could easily persuade others to his beliefs. And often did so without a moment's hesitation.
Not only were his manners and morals set correctly, he had the wonderful talent for imagination, and would often entertain the neighbourhood boys with heroic tales of knights and savages. Much to his brother Percival's delight, he was told these daring tales every night before they were sent off to slumber.
Despite the monstrous storm raging outside, the two brothers ignored the terror and were entranced by the little wooden cars their father had brought back for them from the toy store. Seated in front of the crackling fire, they were basked in the warmth, and almost denied the fact that it was winter outside.
Grinning triumphantly, Percival wheeled his toy around the living area, mouth sputtering engine noises and screeches of brakes as he turned sharp corners. Ralph had stopped playing moments earlier, finding more joy and amusement in watching his brother dash around the room than doing it himself.
Although the winter had made the world outside quickly dark, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed it was only seven o'clock. Watching the face of the clock with a faint interest, he unintentionally smooth down the carpet that Percival had kicked up wheeling past.
Such an odd device, a clock was. Blue eyes sparkling, he focused his ears on the earthly drumming of seconds hand within the clock's surface. One day, he decided that he would take a clock apart, gaze up the mystical sands of time and try to understand it's mysteries.
Abandoning his toy, he crawled up to the red couch and hoisted himself upon it, staring intently at the clock, as thought each passing tick would unlock a deep understanding of it's function.
Percival, now used to his brother's odd fascinations with clocks, amongst other devices, ignored his neglect to their game and continued to play. He was having a joyous time, hiding away in his fantasy only to be dragged out by his mother's gentle call from the hallway. She had called for both brothers; glancing at Ralph he knew the older boy would be too deep in thought to hear their own mother. As tempted as he was to gain his brother's attention, he relished in the thought of his mother's baked goods, in which he would give in to greed and choose to leave his brother in peace.
Now neglecting his own toy, he scurried off to the comforting voice of his parent. Moments later, he returned from the hallway, a glum look on his usually cheery face and he winced as the phone was clicked back into the holder.
As suspected, his brother was still lost in his musings. Slightly irritated that he was the bringer of bad news, he hurried over to Ralph moodily and stood in front of him to get his attention.
Yet, as Percival glanced behind him, he realized his brother was only gazing intently at the large grandfather clock in the corner. Pouting slightly, he clenched his fists with the frustration of a six year old.
"Ralph!"
Tearing his gaze away from the clock, Ralph looked at Percival's sulking appearance. That now caught his attention, for only a few things could wipe off the cheerful grin off his brother's face, especially with the arrival of a new toy.
"Yes? What is it? Did mother call just now?"
Indignantly he nodded, flipping his honey hair back and forth on his small face. Ralph gazed intently at his brother, silently urging him on. Yet, when he noticed the determined look in the younger's eye, Ralph realized that he must ask, to make up for his earlier lack of interest.
Voice gentle, he reached out and tousled Percival's hair kindly. "Alright, so what was her call?"
Still evidently irritant, the little boy nodded and crossed his arms across his chest, as if to shield himself from the awful words he was about to speak.
"He's coming, Ralph." His mouth set into a small pout, and Ralph watched as it began to quiver with the pressure of unfairness that the adult world brought onto him. "Miss Everdean is coming for supper, and she's bringing Pygmalion…"
To cease the tears that would boil over through the child's tantrum, Ralph quickly reached out and cupped the child's small face, rocking him side to side with playful harshness that erupted squeals of delight from the younger boy.
"Now, now. It's only for a few hours, and then he'll be off home."
It's not that the Fairweather children disliked Miss Everdean's nephew, it was that they disliked his bland personality.
Pygmalion Cross was the son of a lawyer and a seamstress, making his view on the world purely influenced by solid logic and fact. In the heavy boy's world, there was no room for wishful thinking and imaginary fun; for it was purely unimportant.
Needless to say, he did not agree to the Fairweather children's antics and far away stories, causing frequent clashes and arguments that led little Percival to tears. Pygmalion had the maturity of cultured adult stuffed in his fat little body, and it badgered Ralph constantly.
"But he's funny looking, Ralph!" Percival's previous moments of happiness now forgotten. "He's such a bother! With his whining, and his specs, and his… oh, what was it?"
"His ass-mar."
"Yes, yes! His bothersome ass-mar!"
Chuckling at his brother's outburst, he sank back down onto the couch, propping his chin on the edge to watch the displayed child tantrum.
"You know what he's like, Ralph? You know what he looks like?" The little boy's face lit up with the knowledge of a brilliant idea, and he hurried towards the front of the couch, hands firmly on his hips. Ralph followed him around, finally sitting properly on the cushion.
"No, I couldn't fathom!" He chuckled, watching the boy get on all fours.
Giving a mighty buck with his legs, his body was propelled forward and he promptly landed on his face. Before Ralph could worry of his wellbeing, Percival shot up on his hands and knees, squealing loudly and scampering around the living room.
Slightly started by this outburst, Ralph began howling in laughter at the performance before him. Percival mimicked a pig incredibly, snorting and squealing and kicking up the carpet. Although the strong bucking of the hindquarters reminded him more of a donkey than a panicked boar, he chose to ignore the sense of logic at this moment.
Clearly out of breath, Percival sank to the floor and lay on his side as if he was wounded. The brothers' laughter echoed off each other's, with Percival letting out random shrieks that sent the boys roaring once more.
Gasping for air, Percival sat up and wiped his cheeks in an action of mock crying. Ralph ceased the laughter by letting out a shaky breath, and the two stared at each other, grinning.
"So, who will tell?"
Percival gazed at him, confused. His pale skin flushed red from his humorous outburst. "What who will tell who?"
A grin fluttered across Ralph's handsome features. "Who will tell Piggy about his new name?"
"Piggy!" Percival shrieked in delight, shooting up from his seat on the floor, he began to jump around wildly in victory at the newly discovered joke.
Joining in his brother's laughter once again, Ralph tentatively placed a hand on his now sore abdomen. One would think that with all the happiness and laughter the brothers indulged in that his body would grow accustomed to the joyous feelings.
However, these moments of happiness were soon sapped away when voices sounded from the hallway, and the faint sound of the door closing echoed throughout the house. Panicked, the children looked at each other, shock stricken. Yet, the fear left when it was concluded no one had heard of their teasing towards their dinner guests.
Grinning lazily at Ralph, Percival leaned back against the coffee table in a cocky demeanour, as if he knew there was nothing to be worried about from the start.
Yet in doing so, the youngest forgot about the laws of force, and soon the table tipped and sent Percival tumbling after it. The lace cloth was strewn from its place, fluttering with innocent white onto the spilled teas and milky creams.
Instantly reacting, Ralph dove forward and began collecting the fallen items while Percival placed the table right side up. But the effort was forever lost, for soon their mother appeared in the doorway, with Miss Everdean and Pygmalion witnessing the destruction of the living room with varied expressions.
Ralph couldn't see why Miss Everdean's heavily painted face showed evident signs of astonishment. The two of them had only knocked over the single table. But as he turned his head to survey their damage, he realized it was a bit worse than he had before believed.
The rug had been kicked up and crumbled in an unsightly manner due to Percival's incredible acting, and couch cushions were falling out of their designated places in the furniture.
Biting his lip softly, he hurriedly placed everything in order onto the table, and then hoisted Percival up to standing from his dazed state. After tugging the button down from being trapped in Percival's blazer, Ralph reached down to pull up his own socks.
"Good evening, Miss Everdean, Pygmalion."
Ignoring his mother's disapproving look, he smiled charmingly at his guests and soon Miss Everdean nodded pleasantly in the brother's direction. Pygmalion gazed back and forth between him and his mother smugly, as if waiting for the brother's to receive punishment.
But chastisement never came.
Instead, their mother hurried Miss Everdean into the kitchen to be seated as the soup finished boiling; Pygmalion was left in the living room, much to Percival's evident distaste.
Dressed in his school's uniform dark blazer and cap, the specs adorned boy gazed at the destruction of the carpet with vague interest. Pacing over to the stain, he looked at the two.
"Fighting pirates?" There was hinted mockery that Ralph chose to ignore. Percival on the other hand, was completely ignorant to it.
"No, we were chasing you, Piggy!"
"Piggy?" The heavy boy looked at them in awe, as if shocked that they would dare to insult him within such close range to authority. Ralph shook his head quickly to disperse an argument.
"Pygmalion is a mouthful." He explained kindly. "Come you two, let's show Piggy our new books."
At the suggestion of reading material the heavier boy quickly agreed, and his superior and smug attitude gave away to one of appropriate child-like curiosity. Percival, however, found no joy in sharing his property with a boy he never liked, and crossed his arms indignantly as he followed the older boys out of the living room and into the narrow entrance way hallways.
Ralph led the two up the tapered stairs and down another hallway lavished with silk, floral wallpaper. Pygmalion gazed at the walls in slight wonder; he was never usually invited this fair into the Fairweather's house. His only experiences within the townhouse were of the kitchen, living and dining rooms, so to be invited to the boys' rooms were considered a treat and an honour that would never leave his socially isolated lips.
The first door on the left was their room, three doors down from their parents to give them justified privacy that a child could never question. Pulling the door open and ushering inside, Ralph gazed at their fairly organized room in mock annoyance.
Mother must have cleaned, he thought bitterly. The unspoken promise of separate territories had been severed, leaving both brothers feeling slightly irritant.
Pygmalion was oblivious to this change in emotion. Already seated on the floor, he was flipping through a scientific text that neither Ralph nor Percival had ever taken interest too.
Various books were neatly placed on the bookshelf built around the door, so neatly they were because they were never removed. Ralph had considered most stories and texts boring and too similar, so he made the decision to create his own, much to Percival's delight. So they had no use for the hard covered volumes.
Sitting on one of the three beds on the right side of the room, he began to fidget with the cream coloured sheets. Just seeing Pygmalion so entranced by those numbers and historical facts made his stomach clench together painfully in frightened understanding.
Percival flung himself onto the bed beside him, muffling something into the sheets, kicking his feet in another mild tantrum. It took Ralph a few dazed seconds to understand that he was being asked something, and he snapped his attention back to him.
"Pardon?"
Percival looked up from the sheets, glaring at him the best a child could. Ralph noticed with a tinge of guilt that his little brother had lost his patience with his ever-moving attention.
"I said," a slight whine wormed into his voice. "Did you tell Piggy that you are moving?"
Ralph's stomach clenched painfully again, Pygmalion flicked his specs back up his nose in curiosity at the subject. A subject, whom the brothers had once long ago agreed, was never to be spoken in public view.
Chancing a look at the younger boy, Ralph realized that the smug look gracing Percival's usually innocent features was one in victory. A victory that condemned Ralph to embarrassment due to his lack of attention to his little brother.
"Moving where, Ralph?" He sounded genuinely confused for someone claiming to be a genius. It was an expected statement, since it was certainly odd to hear that one brother was moving and the other was not, after all.
"Military school?" Pygmalion smirked, bemused at the suggestion of prodigal Ralph being sent somewhere for the horrid children.
Before he could answer, however, Percival intervened. "No! He's moving across the hall!" Pointing a slim finger across the room to the open doorway.
All three boys fell silent, as if the mention of the other room held some sort of dark torment that would engulf them all if provoked. Piggy leaned forward on his pudgy body, gazing at the door in even more confusion that the previous statement.
"Ralph's finally moving out of the nursery? Ain't that the cause for a celebration?"
The brothers were silent. Ralph's stomach clenched so painfully he believed he was having strange, other worldly contractions.
Wasn't it all siblings' dreams to have their own room? Move away from a pestering family member who annoyed them day and night? As much as Ralph thought it through, he knew that he wished for the solitude that the other room possessed. Yet, by moving out of this nursery he was admitting defeat to the one thing that haunted him.
As if on cue, the great grandfather clock in the living room chimed, sounding the hour. All the boys fell into a tense silence as a certain truth dawned on them all. By Ralph moving, he would have to accept maturity; have to accept his rise into adulthood.
It seemed bizarre to Pygmalion, their connection to the adult psyche, to even imagine a free spirit such as Ralph reading historical text, typing in mathematical equations for a job that would yield his creative thinking process.
Pygmalion had grown up too fast, and accepted maturity before realizing he would be leaving his childhood behind. No more would he be able to bask in the glow of child-like wonder, or indulge in activities that the society he had been accepted into seen as indecent.
Percival himself felt the fear of his brother leaving the gentle embrace of the golden honey striped walls. No more would they be able to act as they had downstairs, a life time ago. Ralph would always be perched on the couch, not on the floor playing with the wooden toys they were given.
Revenge on his brother's short attention had eroded away to the fear of being alone in a childhood that was pressured too much by the outside world. A well, far beyond the reach of logic and consoling was tapped within him, and tears began to spring forth.
Before this well could be shared universally, a call from downstairs signalled that dinner would be ready. At the sound of an adult's voice, the most startling and comforting being in a child's life, all emotions fell short.
Giving a huff, Pygmalion hoisted himself to his feet, muttering that their mother was cooking chicken and placed the book back on the shelf respectively. A scowl was present on Percival's face as he was ashamed by his childish tantrum through his childish pride. Soon he too followed Pygmalion out the door, turning once to see if Ralph would follow, but decided to leave his brother in self evaluation.
Left alone, Ralph realized he was shielded from public shame and criticism. Bringing up his knees to his chest, he gazed watery at his socked feet, daring himself to contemplate his future days of this wintery season.
For now, he was still considered a child, and was allowed to tap into sorrow and express it freely. But he chose not to, for it would accomplish nothing, a tantrum never did. This logical action startled him, for it just gave him more proof that he was maturing, that he was growing up.
Mother would not wait forever, Ralph concluded, throwing himself off the bed and into the center of the room. He gazed around longingly. One more night, and then he would enter the world of society and rule, of civilization and order. No chance for boyish behaviour, no chance to be wild and have unauthorized fun without worrying of consequences beforehand.
Running a hand through his hair in annoyance at the whole of the situation, he gazed angrily at the window and the reflection it portrayed towards him.
It was him from a story he had told Percival many nights ago. They were savage, hunting alongside the Indians from the Western world. Holding spears with sharp stone barbs, they had painted each other in war paint to conceal themselves from the enemies, and abandoned their accepted English garbs for leaves and animal skins.
That was his most favourite story he had told to Percival. For when it was told their parents had punished them mercilessly, they had broken a China vase father had obtained from Asia. Percival wished to run away, and in his outburst wished he was as savage as the Indians in the text books.
Ralph told him they could fly across the city, all the towns and country sides, over the churning seas to get to the Western countries and join the savages' tribes.
Never before had Ralph so badly desired the ability to fly away from all of his problems. To go somewhere free from rules and authority, with no pressure to grow up, and with that, they would never grow old. He would take Percival of course, and maybe Piggy. He did seem to know so much, maybe he could speak savage, act as an interpreter.
The impossibility of that wish made him grin a bit, for he just proved to himself that he was not growing up as fast as he feared he was. Yet, the savage reflection in the window refused to show Ralph in his proper Englishman clothes. Confused, Ralph scowled at the image, feeling as if his mind was taunting him with a life he could never have.
The reflection looked confused.
Startled, Ralph's eyes scanned the window in shocked confusion. The reflection tapped it's chin thoughtfully.
But Ralph's arms were against his sides.
The reflection seemed to notice the fault in this action too, for it looked panicked. Ralph rushed towards the savaged boy in the window, throwing open the glass panes. At the same moment the reflection shot upward, and when Ralph stuck his head out the window, there was nothing there.
Gasping for breath, he scanned the outside surroundings for anything that could explain what he just saw. But he knew in his heart that there would be nothing, for his room was stationed on the third floor, an impossible height for anyone to reach from the ground.
Placing a hand on his heart, he willed it to slow. But all his mind could see was that fiery red and those two chips of ice that could see into his very soul.
Ralph didn't have blue eyes. His heart beat sped up to an alarming rate as the horrifying truth filled his mind. Did he just witness the devil himself, in his very bedroom window?
Surely this was a horrible omen, towards his ageing, towards his life, towards a subject Ralph had no ability to understand in his child like mind.
"Ralph?"
The voice caused him to startle, jerking painfully around to peer out the open window. But the voice did not sound from the bitter winter night, but from his doorway. Percival scampered in, rubbing his hands against his arms to shield himself from the coldness of the outside world.
When he reached his brother, he gazed at his pale complexion and wild eyes with confused. "Dinner has started; father did not wish to wait."
Receiving no answer, he turned his attention back towards the open window. He began to tug on Ralph's sleeve. "What? What Ralph?"
Swallowing a cold lump of fear in his throat, he winced as it traveled down into his stomach. This fear was chilling his very soul.
"There was a boy outside."
The statement was quiet, and Ralph felt as if he himself had no even spoken those words. Percival failed to notice his brother's discomfort, however, and gazed outside the window with interest. Yet, the excelling darkness proved for poor eyesight, even with the street lamps below, so Percival pulled himself back in and shut the window with a scowl.
"Spectres!" He exclaimed with a giggle, grabbing his brother's arm and leading him out of the room. "Spectres are visiting Ralph!" He chanted.
Despite his fright, Ralph had no choice but to agree with him. For with what logic could support what he had supposedly seen?
Percival still had hold of his arm as they ventured quietly down the stairs, yet when they reached the bottom they both looked at each other with silent agreement. There were too many ill tempered rumours surrounding their household already, there was no need to speak of this incident to the authority figures in their lives.
However, that did not cease the possibilities and unanswerable questions that plagued his mind during dinner.
As he took his seat an apologetic smile was given to those who were currently seated, and his father nodded in approval. While everyone ate the beautiful and filling meal prepared by his mother, Ralph had to force even the softest bites of food down his throat.
He could not partake in the idle chatter that was shared amongst the diners. His mind was tainted by the haunted, painted image of the savage that hovered outside his window. For now his eyes were laced with a morbid curiosity, and he was sure that his lips would proclaim the darkness if opened.
As dinner slowed to a finish, the guests began to dismiss themselves and journey into the living room. Percival felt drawn to the strange company of adults, to hear their complex speeches and smooth flowing voices. To a child of his age, their actions and presence in a room was reassuring and comforting, despite the harsh world around them.
Yet, he stayed seated. Despite being a child, he could sense those who were in need of comfort, and scooted off his chair and went to Ralph and gave cheery embrace. Although in the view of the questioning and judging eyes of Pygmalion he showed no shame in expressing concern.
Taking the younger boy by the shoulder in gratitude, Ralph stood and glanced down at his half eaten meal. He would be chastised if he did not eat his respectable amount. Finding a solution for the problem, he piled the food on his cloth napkin and wrapped it into a bundle carefully.
"Piggy." He addressed the heavier boy who was still eating his large share of food. "We're heading up to the nursery, time for a story."
At that, Percival squealed in absolute delight. Pygmalion nodded, placing down his eating utensils in orderly fashion and retrieving the napkin that was lodged in the neck space of his shirt. Although the older boy's stories defied his scientific logic, they still appealed to the childish nature lodged deep in his soul.
Carrying his bundle of food and having Percival hanging off one of his arms, Ralph led the way out of the dining room and into the narrow hallway once again. Pygmalion trailed behind, gazing at the decorative wallpaper with vague interest. As they passed the entry to the living room, Ralph caught sight of a familiar glass bottle holding rancid golden liquid that was being poured in glasses around the room.
Ralph grinned.
Hurriedly, he dragged Percival up the stairs, who was surprised at his brother's change in pace. Pygmalion still lagged behind. When they entered their golden nursery Ralph let out a chorus of laughter, dropping his food on the wooden dresser and jumping on one of the beds.
Percival witnessed Ralph's surprising actions with mischievous interest, noting the slightly wild glee shining through his eyes. Those traits told Percival that tonight's story would be absolutely terrific. Just as Pygmalion was entering the room Percival was scampering for a comfy seat on the rug before Ralph. Figuring he should do the same, Pygmalion joined him, adjusting his specs.
With his eyes scanning the two boys in front of him, Ralph grinned when he had them hungry for his creative speech. Crawling over to the foot of the brass bed frame, he swung over it so he was sitting balanced on the long bar.
"A few years ago, in this very city..." Ralph started off, already knowing how he'd begin this story. "There lived a family. And to be honest, they weren't at all perfect." His face scrunched at this.
"Their father worked for the bank, and every day he was given pay he would gamble off. And the mother was absolutely dreadful! Always badgering her boys to live up to a proud title she never had."
Percival giggled, instantly making the outlandish connection between this family and his own.
"The mother had three boys," Ralph explained. "The oldest was born to be successful, no matter how hard he tried to screw up-"
Pygmalion shot him a dirty glare, disapproving of Ralph's use of disrespectful slang.
"And the middle son." Ralph continued on, ignoring Piggy's silent protest. "Was the smartest in all of school, yet he was constantly bullied because he looked like a pig!"
Now Pygmalion flushed in embarrassment, whether from the crude insult that was thrown at him indirectly or the fact that he was honoured to be included into Ralph's story. He cleaned off his misted glasses by rubbing them against his sleeve.
"Now the youngest, he was a charming lad." Ralph scratched his head awkwardly in giving affection so publicly. "And he always seemed to make people happy, no matter what the cause."
Percival leaned forward eagerly, knowing this was where the horrid conflict would be added.
"But, the oldest was… growing up." He found it difficult to speak those words. "And his parents decided to send him away to a place where he could grow up to be a 'successful business man.'"! Ralph mocked his father's words, resulting in a giggle from his brother.
"But the boy didn't want to go." Speaking softly, he fiddled with his shirt hem. "The boy never wanted to grow up! So he decided to run away, and before he went to sleep, he packed up all of his belongings without his brothers knowing. "
Pygmalion nodded, and Percival muttered an agreement. Both connecting to the pressure that the adult world was bestowing upon them.
"However, that night, before he could act through on his plan, he saw a shadow in the window." That caught Pygmalion's attention, and Percival leaned so far that he was resting on the floor. Ralph looked at them all with soft eyes.
"It was a savage boy, from a land that was free from the adult's rules and pressures… And no one had to grow up! Everyone could live forever!"
Pygmalion opened his mouth to correct the flawed logic in that statement, but a jarring punch to the knee from Percival quieted him.
"He told him he could take the boy away," Ralph explained excitedly, jumping up on the bed. "Away to the world where there was always excitement! There were pirates! And savages! Even mermaids and goblins!"
"How would he take them, Ralph?" Pygmalion's voice was full of doubt. "Did he have a dragon?"
Again with the mocking. Ralph shook his head in protest, and then grinned brightly.
"The boy could fly."
Instantly Pygmalion was challenging him. "Without a plane?"
"Yes! Without a plane, aircraft, or wings! He could just… Hover wherever he wanted!"
The boys looked at Ralph in awe, and he continued to grin brightly. "The savage boy said he could teach him how to fly! But, the boy said he couldn't leave without his brothers, so the savage allowed them to come too!"
All the boys were grinning now. The tranquil, cheerful glow that the fantasy of the story had given them increased their joys of this bitter night. Ralph basked in the lovely feeling before looking at them questionably.
"Sounds nice, doesn't it?" His voice soft, Pygmalion nodded. "To just fly away."
"Without air and traveling fare…"
Ralph snatched and threw the pillow well-aimed at Piggy's face. The boy squealed in surprise, and tossed it back half-heartedly, grinning and re-adjusting his specs once again. That joke had been funny, and Ralph was grinning, but it had been smart. Which had ruined the moment he was having from the story.
"Ralph! What happened then?" Percival piped up, clasping his hands together in wonder. Ralph thought for a moment, running a hand through his hair to put it naturally in place. Yet, before he could answer, his mother's call was heard from downstairs. All boys looked disappointed, but they knew they had to answer authority's call.
Percival whined softly, but Ralph wrapped an arm around him shoulder and led him out of the room, silently assuring him he would continue after. This seemed to work, for the young one settled and took off down the stairs in humble curiosity to the call.
Ralph stood at the top of the stairs, gripping onto the banister while contemplating what the call could possibly be about. Pygmalion, however, came up behind him while wiping his glasses, nudging him gently towards the decline of the staircase.
Shaking his head slightly, he continued on without a moment's hesitation. Just once he would like to be free from the reins society and authority had on him. Briefly he had a moment's thought of turning right round and locking himself in his room, ignoring the power of his mother's summon over him.
Yet, sensibly he knew that would do no good in any situation.
For in this world, adults still held control over them all.