Disclaimer: I don't own LOTF, or any of its characters, not do I claim to.
Thank you.
Author's Note: This is meant to be fun and lighthearted. No flames, please. The beginning is slow; just plow through. Enjoy!
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High above the island, thunder boomed and crashed. Flashes of lightning broke the layers of cloud in the heavens. The waves broke fiercely, like rampaging stallions and stormed brutally to shore.
It was night, and if one glanced up into the deepest fathoms on the universe, one could see the stars, if one looked at just the right time, when the boiling clouds moved to reveal this look into the Pearly Gates.
The moon was full and round, luminescent. It shone down upon a camp, where a group of about 30 half-clad boys, ages 6 to twelve, sat around several smoldering cooking fires, destroyed by the vicious rain. One boy stood up. In his hand, cradled, was a glistening white conch shell. The rain seemed less furious around the shell, the wind softer. The whiteness glowed purely, matching the look on the boy's face.
He handed the conch to another boy. The new holder looked fit, with a golden body and fair hair. He raised the sweet shell to his parted lips and blew. A strident, yet harmonious sound blared out. The boys raised their heads, and just as the boy with the conch was about to speak, a loud clap of thunder shook the island, and realization dawned on them all.
"Oh! Crap!" A tall boy with red hair stood up, a worried look on his face. He beckoned for the conch.
"I just realized it. I've been bad." He considered this, then continued, "No! Worse than bad. I've been…like …."
A small boy with floppy black hair broke in, "Awful! Horrible! Domineering! You represent totalitarianism, fool!"
"Shut up!" Shouted a dark and baleful boy, swinging at Simon with a stick sharpened at both ends. But Simon, sensing the truth, dodged nimbly away.
"Hey!" Exclaimed a fat boy, "Don't swing at Simon like that. You could hurt him!"
"Shut up, Piggy!" Jeered Roger.
"Roger, you must stop this violence. Don't you realize you symbolize power by brutal force?" Simon begged Roger.
"Simon is right." Piggy glared at the violent boy, pushing his glass up his nose.
"Let's have a vote!" Cried Ralph suddenly, who accepted the fact that he represented democratic power.
"On what? Whether Simon is right or not? He represents the truth, you moron!"
"Wacco!"
"Wizard!"
"Piggy, your intelligence is shining through." Simon smiled comfortingly.
Jack was huddled in the corner, crying.
"I've been so bad, so EVIL. Like the jungle. The jungle was evil, too. And I loved the jungle. What have I become?"
"A simpering, once powerful, leader?"
Piggy was enjoying the fact that he symbolized logic.
"Shut up, Piggy!"
"I've got the conch!"
"No you don't, Ralph does!"
Ralph blew the conch.
"We'll have a meeting! To the platform, chaps!"
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Well, there is it. Realization. Should I write more? Please review.
Author's Note: This is meant to be fun and lighthearted. No flames, please. The beginning is slow; just plow through. Enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
High above the island, thunder boomed and crashed. Flashes of lightning broke the layers of cloud in the heavens. The waves broke fiercely, like rampaging stallions and stormed brutally to shore.
It was night, and if one glanced up into the deepest fathoms on the universe, one could see the stars, if one looked at just the right time, when the boiling clouds moved to reveal this look into the Pearly Gates.
The moon was full and round, luminescent. It shone down upon a camp, where a group of about 30 half-clad boys, ages 6 to twelve, sat around several smoldering cooking fires, destroyed by the vicious rain. One boy stood up. In his hand, cradled, was a glistening white conch shell. The rain seemed less furious around the shell, the wind softer. The whiteness glowed purely, matching the look on the boy's face.
He handed the conch to another boy. The new holder looked fit, with a golden body and fair hair. He raised the sweet shell to his parted lips and blew. A strident, yet harmonious sound blared out. The boys raised their heads, and just as the boy with the conch was about to speak, a loud clap of thunder shook the island, and realization dawned on them all.
"Oh! Crap!" A tall boy with red hair stood up, a worried look on his face. He beckoned for the conch.
"I just realized it. I've been bad." He considered this, then continued, "No! Worse than bad. I've been…like …."
A small boy with floppy black hair broke in, "Awful! Horrible! Domineering! You represent totalitarianism, fool!"
"Shut up!" Shouted a dark and baleful boy, swinging at Simon with a stick sharpened at both ends. But Simon, sensing the truth, dodged nimbly away.
"Hey!" Exclaimed a fat boy, "Don't swing at Simon like that. You could hurt him!"
"Shut up, Piggy!" Jeered Roger.
"Roger, you must stop this violence. Don't you realize you symbolize power by brutal force?" Simon begged Roger.
"Simon is right." Piggy glared at the violent boy, pushing his glass up his nose.
"Let's have a vote!" Cried Ralph suddenly, who accepted the fact that he represented democratic power.
"On what? Whether Simon is right or not? He represents the truth, you moron!"
"Wacco!"
"Wizard!"
"Piggy, your intelligence is shining through." Simon smiled comfortingly.
Jack was huddled in the corner, crying.
"I've been so bad, so EVIL. Like the jungle. The jungle was evil, too. And I loved the jungle. What have I become?"
"A simpering, once powerful, leader?"
Piggy was enjoying the fact that he symbolized logic.
"Shut up, Piggy!"
"I've got the conch!"
"No you don't, Ralph does!"
Ralph blew the conch.
"We'll have a meeting! To the platform, chaps!"
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Well, there is it. Realization. Should I write more? Please review.