Alrighty, the official 1st chapter is here!
Warnings: There's no slash or anything yet, but there are some disturbing Roger moments. They're not the slash type of disturbing, but it's... uh... the Roger's-violence type of disturbing. Heehee! I feel kinda guilty for writing this kinda stuff, but I got it out! Anyhow, the story's just moving forward a bit. Also, I make a biblical reference that characterizes the island as forever tainted. If you're offended by this kind of stuff, then I'm just telling you right here.
Other stuff: I try to keep some of the meaning consistent, as well as add on with my own allusions and significance to the story. The interpretation of Jack and Roger as Hitler and the Gestapo (that some tend to see in the story), however, will probably be dumped, since I don't have the personal background that Golding has.
Anyways, all the characters so far belong to William Golding's brilliance and Lord of the Flies. I don't own them.
Begin!
Jack woke up with an exciting energy inside him. He was overenthusiastic and immediately began to prepare for his bounty hunt. He sat up and leaped off the crag he was sleeping on and headed towards the pile of spears that lay in a corner of the cave. He snatched one and stood in the middle of scattered, sleeping bodies.
"Get your spears! We're going to search for Ralph!"
The bodies of the rest of the tribe that laid on the ground stirred a little. They rose wearily in complaint against Jack's demanding voice, their bodies still worn out from yesterday's search.
A bleary-eyed group of littluns cried out.
"But I'm hungry!"
"I just woke up!"
"Can't we go hunting first?"
Jack's freckles faded a little in an angry blush. He jabbed his spear into the ground.
"We are hunting! Except we're hunting for Ralph. And we won't get our food until we get Ralph!"
In dreary obedience, the boys formed the line again, preparing to sweep the island that had been reduced to a pile of ashes from their riot the day before. Before them was a vast carpet of uneven clumps of black dust that used to be a lively forest. Few trees stood, but the ones that had survived the fire were the tallest and burliest, impeding the view between Castle Rock and the beach.
Jack trudged on in serious determination. His stomach growled occasionally and began to clench in an aching cramp, but he continued to thoroughly scale the forest. His eyes were wide, bloodshot globes that searched the forest of its every detail and movement. Few ululations were heard, and all of them were false alarms, tricks of the wind. There was very little life left in the forest, which boosted Jack's confidence as it had made searching easier. They crossed the sickly patch of green that surrounded the fort. It was the only patch of green on the island, as the flames had not run too near the fort. It was midday before they caught any real movement from something live, and many of the boys were wavering to and fro, about to faint from the lack of the food they neglected in their search the day before.
A small rustle to his right caught his immediate attention as he tightened his grip on his spear. His eyes flickered towards where the movement came from as his body tensed in vigilance. There were audible murmurs that came from a pile of leaves on the ground. Jack made a cupping motion to the others.
"Circle. Make a circle," he whispered.
The littluns, indifferent to the search, shuffled weakly around the rustling pile of leaves.
"Hurry up!"
They surrounded the small pile of leaves with their spears aimed inward. Slowly, they closed into the pile of leaves as Roger hovered outside of the circle, his eyes intent. In his right hand he clutched a spear that had been sharpened with care, while his left held the stick that had been sharpened at both ends.
Jack cried a shrill ululation as the boys rushed into the middle and began stabbing at the pile. Instantly, a squeal was heard as a small group of bleeding piglets scattered outward from a bleeding sow. The piglets stumbled as they ran, their legs not as fully developed as their instincts.
Roger dropped his sticks as he dove for one, grabbing it and holding it upside down by its two lower legs. Instead of slashing its throat, he took out his knife and sliced open its belly, turning a loud squeal into a painfully resounding scream as the contents of the piglet spilled out onto the ashy ground. He tied the piglet to his waist and eagerly joined the circle of littluns who were busy with killing the sow. They were weakly spearing the pig, their arms lacking strength from the hunger that had been plaguing them for so long. Roger picked up his spear again and slowly but firmly pressed onto a swollen teat on the sow, resulting in an agonizing screech from the sow that caused a few littluns to cringe.
Jack dispersed the group, shoving everyone in his way to the side and taking out his knife. He firmly slashed the sow's throat and stood there as the spastic hooves slowly resided and eventually stilled. His teeth were painfully clenched together; his seething breaths were shallow and uneven. His hand firmly clutched the handle that was stained with blood as scarlet as his face. He shouted to a particular no one.
"Why couldn't it have been Ralph? Why couldn't it have been Ralph?"
His eyes began to moist as the others simply watched him in silence. Jack pressed his forehead against a trunk and began to wail. It was a wail mixed with rage and frustration, and it resounded across the entire island. Bill and Percival shifted on their feet uncomfortably.
"Let's forget about Ralph."
Jack opened his eyes that were tightly shut before. He cocked his head to face the squeaky, quiet voice that came from Maurice.
"Forget Ralph?"
"Yes-I mean-"
"Ralph?"
"Uh-chief, I uh-"
"Ralph?"
Jack approached Maurice and leaned over him. Maurice's eyes were wide and tense in a notion of fear as Jack leaned in until their noses were inches apart. He had stopped crying, but his nose and cheeks were still tinted red and were getting redder by the second. His voice was hoarse over Maurice's apprehensive stutters.
"Rubbish! Don't you see? He's weak! He's afraid of the beastie!"
"I-"
"The beastie!"
"It's-"
"Ralph is weak, he's afraid of the beastie on this island! He's afraid of the beastie in this forest! But us hunters go in the forest every day! We live in the forest!"
"But he should be dead by now-"
"No! I can feel it! I can feel that that scumbag is out there! Out there! I just know!"
Maurice's stuttered had been beaten back down his throat. He tightly pursed his lips together and shook there silently, save for a few whimpers. Jack broke away from their intense stare and straightened his back to holler at everyone.
"I care! I hunt! Ralph can't hunt! That's why you all joined my tribe, not his! I promised you food, I promised you protection and I promised you safety! Ralph wants to force you all to his side! If you join him, he'll just make you all work every day!"
Jack howled in a mocking voice.
"Work, work, work! You need the fire, the fire! Oh, the fire! Jack, you let the fire go out so you could feed the littluns; hunting's not important! Jack! Jack! What's important is the fire!"
His cracking voice elevated to the loudest he could manage.
"My tribe, does anyone want to join Ralph? Anyone?"
"No!"
The response was unanimous. A littlun clumsily stumbled forward from the vigor of the cheer and fell onto the ground, face-first into soot. He started having a fit as he coughed and hacked, inhaling to get air, but only to fill his lungs with the dust he was trying to get rid of. Little specks flew out of his mouth and twirled rapidly in the air as if in rejoice before being sucked back in by the desperate inhalation of the convulsing thing.
Everyone stared at the fit for a few minutes before Bill ran over and pulled him up. The littlun stood there still hacking, every cough causing him to spasm in a different direction. After the coughing finally subsided, the littlun stood there with moist eyes and an embarrassed blush.
Jack ignored him. Having received the answer he wanted, Jack's fit died down and his breathing returned to normal. He hesitated and recollected himself. After taking a few, trembling, deep breaths, he put away his knife and straightened up. He looked at the ground to avoid any more eye contact.
"Alright then. Set up a fire. We'll eat."
A group of littluns broke from their frozen, wide-eyed stances and cheered as they went around gathering firewood. Jack sat down on a fallen log and wiped his wet eyes with a dirty wrist. He took the spectacles hanging from his waist and handed them to Roger, who went to light the fire.
He sat there, staring blankly into space. His distraction was only disturbed when Roger handed him back the spectacles, which he fastened back on his waist. Jack readjusted his torn cap and took out his knife again. He portioned the meat, giving none to Roger, who had the piglet to eat, and sat back down. He didn't take any for himself; his mind was still set on Ralph. Roger got up from where he was sitting and took a sliced off a bit of meat from the sow's side and handed it to him. Jack took the meat reluctantly and began to nibble at it.
"You need it for strength."
He smiled, and Jack subtly returned it, his thoughts somewhere else.
They rested a bit, and when everyone had finished their meat, Jack stood up.
"Reform the line!"
They continued scouring the island, with Maurice slightly trailing behind, his eyes a little wider than usual.
Thanks for reading (unless you're just peeking at the end)!
Anyways, please review on small grammatical issues of story inconsistencies! I'm really nit picky, so I won't mind at all if you are, too. I'll take all constructive criticism positively and appreciate anyone who has the time to point out something wrong. If you do, I think I'll owe you like, half a cookie or something.