Epilogue: Remembering the Loss of Innocence

Fifteen Years Later...

A young man, nearing his thirties, was walking in the small park. His green eyes blinked behind his glasses as he found the small crowd which was surely waiting for him. He approached them, an unsure smile on his face.

"Look who's coming!" a man said from the crowd. He stood and shook the young man's hand. It was obvious that he was nervous. "Nice to see you again, Ralph."

"Robert," Ralph finally could say the name. "How's life?"

It was strange, and slightly eerie, as Ralph stood there staring at the grown face of a youth savage. Robert didn't change. His face stayed the same, his eyes held the same unspeakable thing all of them had. Ralph hoped his love towards children stayed as well.

"I'm a teacher," he said. "I love the job. After I was out my therapy, well… I went to college and ended up teaching. My therapist told me to get closer to children, and I love it."

"Great," Ralph smiled at him, melting the tension between them.

The crowd stood and shook Ralph's hands as well. Bill, Maurice and Henry looked almost scared as they tried to make conversation with Ralph. They didn't exactly say they were sorry, but Ralph knew he didn't need to torment them anymore. They had lived with their own guilt and self-hatred, and that was enough for Ralph.

All of them had gone into therapy, and it was good to see that they had matured, had changed. Not all of them had good jobs, like Rupert and Michael and Bill who were still struggling with their lives and unemployment. But they could stand on their feet without the past haunting them, and that was the most important thing.

"Where's Jack?" Percival, who had grown up to be a quite well-known stage director, asked. "I don't see him."

Ralph lifted his eyebrow at the mention of his brother. He didn't see the redhead either. After he and Ralph graduated from college, he decided to move out, much to the entire house's dismay. It wasn't perfect, Jack's relationship with his father and Ralph's mother. But Jack was stubborn, and he knew he could work things out. And when Jack knew he could do something, he could do it.

After a year, Ralph moved out as well. Jack taught a group of choirboys and Ralph had his own library. He had met Sam, who had become a writer, in the library. The boy had changed. His face wasn't recognisable as the littleun who did the fire-watching anymore. They were friends in a matter of months, and Eric, who apparently had separated from his twin for some time, joined in as well. Eric worked as a fire-fighter. It was ironic, remembering that Ralph was the one who had been quite obsessed with fire.

"Sorry, I'm late." Jack suddenly appeared from nowhere. He was smiling secretly. "Those brats need more teaching, it seems. What did I miss?"

"We're just arrived as well," Piers, the scientist, said respectfully. And even Jack wasn't their chief anymore, and neither did Ralph, they still looked up at them. "What d'you want to show us?"

Jack tilted his head towards a certain direction. Five people were walking towards them, carrying a stone monument in their hands. "I talked to the mayor yesterday," he said. "I told him about us. And he agreed if we put this here."

The other men stared at the stone monument in shock. It was tall, and on top of it, there was a pig's head on a stick, surrounded by four boys at the each side of the monument. They recognised the boys instantly.

"Simon!" Percival almost squeaked in shock, which was odd, since he wasn't a child anymore. The Simon statue smiled kindly at him, the sculptor could capture his expression so greatly Percival suspected the sculptor had seen Simon before.

"Piggy," Ralph whispered. The Piggy statue was carrying a stick, a conch near his feet. Above the conch were his specs, and Ralph reached out to touch it. One of the lens was made broken, and the blond could feel the 'cracks' with his fingers.

Even in the age of middle twenties, Samneric still completed each other's words. "That—"

"Marked—"

"Boy!"

"It's Donald," Jack corrected. He knew how much Donald hated his mark. The mark was visible on the boy's face, the dreamy expression much more apparent than one on Simon's. On his shoulder was a small miniature of the dead parachuter.

"Oh, Roger!" the 'littleuns' gasped. Although only a statue, it still had a frightening aura for all of them, and Jack knew it. The grey Roger was standing proudly, hand gripping a spear and mouth slightly open, as if he were singing.

"Read this!" Maurice said, pointing at the words below.

The men crowded the monument, wanting to read them as soon as possible. Jack and Ralph chuckled. It was funny to see grownups like them acting like little kids. But after a while, they backed off. Harold glanced nervously at Jack.

"How did you get Piggy's real name?" the now-chef asked.

Ralph decided to answer him. "I found his auntie," he said, repositioning his glasses.

"Miss Matilda Grayson?"

"Hello, dearie!" a cheerful, plump woman stood from her chair behind the cashier machine. Ralph smiled weakly at her. "Come on, you surely need more candies, with that scrawny body of yours. Listen, I just made some new... what d'you call it?... inventions! You won't regret it, I assure you."

"I don't like candies," Ralph said. "My name is Ralph, Ralph Merridew. I'm here to tell you about... about... Piggy."

"Don't call him that," she put her hand on her hips. Unlike her nephew, she looked quite threatening, despite of her fat body. "Now tell me what's going on with him. He's still safe in the village, yes? I really miss him, but I know he'll be okay."

"Something... something happened to him." Ralph started to sob.

"What is it?" her tone softened instantly.

"He... he died."

With that Ralph broke down crying.

"She died a year later. It broke her deeply. She didn't have anyone else but Piggy. His father died before he was born, and his mother was nowhere to be known, so he lived with her all the time."

Jack squeezed his shoulder brotherly and continued. His tone was slightly sarcastic. "She took the news surprisingly well. She knew something was happening when she hasn't gotten any mails from him. But being a loving auntie she was, she didn't try to write and contact him."

Henry suddenly stepped forward. The man looked at Jack's deep blue eyes and Ralph's green ones. "Chiefs," he said to the brothers. "I keep this. I keep this all this time."

He pulled out Piggy's broken specs from his pocket. All of them stared at him with surprise. But Jack broke the tension by his wild grin. "Great!" he said. He grabbed the specs and ran toward the monument, where Piggy's statue had been, exactly under Piggy's name. He squatted in front of it and clawed at the soil.

It took the others a while to realise what the redhead was doing. Stanley rushed forward and helped him digging the soil as well. When a small hole was formed, Jack gave the specs to Ralph.

"You're his friend," he said shortly.

Ralph blinked in confusion. But understanding hit him suddenly and he stepped forward and knelt in front of the hole. He felt like crying, and tears slowly made their way down his cheeks. "Goodbye, Piggy," he sobbed softly. "Goodbye, everyone."

As he said that, he lowered the specs and buried it under the warm soil. He looked at the names on each side of the monument before stood. He patted the stone and everyone followed his action. Jack cleared his throat, rather awkwardly.

"Maybe… we can continue this somewhere else?"

The men grinned at him, although many of them forced the supposedly happy expression. And as they made their way together, away from the monument and out of the park, all of them had known that they were forgiven. The island was merely a past, and they were ready to start their future. If they could, together.

The cloud covered the sun, making the statues and words on the monument darker, as if reminding the viewers about the grim island.

REMEMBERING THE LOSS OF INNOCENCE

DONALD TERRENCE PRITCHARD (February 29, 1944 – 1953)

SIMON MORGAN LEWENDEN (November 4, 1943 – 1954)

JOHN HOWARD "PIGGY" GRAYSON (June 1, 1942 – September 17, 1954)

ROGER ETHAN CARTER (May 8, 1941 – September 17, 1954)

FIN.

A/N: THE REAL END, GUYS! Whoa I never thought I'd finish this one! :')

I know this story isn't perfect, and I still need to learn much, but I hope you like it! I don't really like grim ending, so I give you a nice one. I hope you like their names, tho! Simon Lewenden is actually an inside joke between me and KSBG, who maybe will like this XD

Thank you, thank you, thank you for everyone who has stuck with me from the start! And for the ones who reviewed and faved and alerted! I love all of you! :)

If I can persuade (and bribe XD) my friend I'll have the essay up sometime! And my own backstory about this story as well. :D

Love,

Seer M. Anno