Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies, or any of its characters. My
friend Kazza owns Alfie.
AN: ok, what was originally intended to be a one shot, one story thing, has now turned into a collection of short Lord of the Flies stories, all written by me and my friends for English. Hope you like them!
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"Twelvety, fourteen, twoty, erm.. ninety, twenty. Coming ready or not!" Alfie put his chubby five-year old hands down and opened his eyes. Carefully he moved the branches that hid the entrance to the cave, and climbed out into the forest, cautiously stepping over any sharp twigs and stones. He turned in a complete circle, waiting for the telltale giggle that would lead him to the hiding place of his friends. It didn't come. He walked a little further into the forest, and saw something move behind a tree. Alfie smiled to himself and crept closer as fast as his bare legs could carry him. He took a deep breath and pounced behind the tree. "Found you! Found you!" but there was no one there, it had just been a branch in the breeze. Disheartened, he continued to walk deeper into the forest searching for his friends. He was frustrated now, he had thought he was the bestest hide-and-seeker ever. He never cheated, even when he had heard shouting and running outside he had stayed in the cave with his hands clamped over his eyes, counting as best he could. It was harder to count now. Mummy had helped him learn but he had forgotten, he had even nearly forgotten Mummy. Alfie put this thought to the back of his mind and carried on looking. The forest began to get cooler, and Alfie's stomach rumbled so loudly that it surprised even him. He wandered off to a tree with tasty looking berries on it, and reached as high as he could to get to the best fruit. He jumped and grabbed a handful of berries, letting the pink-purple juice run down his dirty fingers. As he licked the juice off his hands, he wished Simon were there to help him. Simon had been the best fruit-picker. He hadn't seen Simon for a while, maybe he had gone on one of his walks in the forest? Or maybe he'd gone for a swim? Alfie didn't know.
After eating as much fruit as he could pick, Alfie decided he had had enough of this game. Where were his friends? He was cross with them now, didn't they know that it was getting late? He called out into the forest for them "George! Nicholas! Percival!", but the sound of the evening breeze whispering through the trees was the only thing that answered him. He called out again, this time more desperately. Still no one answered. He threw himself down on the floor and folded his arms. "I don't want to play anymore. This is a silly game. Come out. I don't want to play!". Alfie looked up, expecting to see three grinning faces. But no one was there. Maybe they had gone down onto the beach to build a sandcastle or something? Yes, that would be it, they liked playing with the sand. With this fresh inspiration Alfie leapt up and ran back the way he had come. He skipped onto the beach, kicking the sand as he went. He dipped a toe into the shallow blue water that crawled up the beach and kissed the golden sand. It wasn't too cold. He walked in the cool water for a while, after all, why should his silly friends have all the fun? He called out for them again, sure this time that they would answer. They would all meet up, and go and find some lovely fruit to eat and then they could play another game or they could find a nice spot to sleep in. Still no one came. He looked out at the disappearing sun sinking slowly into the sea. But then he noticed something, a black object sailing out into the ocean. He looked closer and realised that it was the silhouette of a ship. A ship! He knew he must do something, but what? He should tell Ralph, yes that's what he should do. Ralph was always talking to the big boys about going home in a ship. But where was Ralph? Alfie glanced around but the beach was deserted. He turned back to the ship. A look of confusion appeared on his fruit-stained face. The ship was smaller than it had been before, he could hardly see it at all now. It was getting further away from him and the island. Oh well, it was just a ship, he was sure that another one would come along soon to rescue him and all the other boys.
It was darker now, and Alfie was getting tired. He wanted to keep looking for the other boys before he gave in to the night. He didn't like night- time, it was when he thought of home and his blue bedroom, or was it green? Mummy wouldn't have anyone to read a story to tonight, and he had no one to tuck him in. He sat down against a tree and closed his eyes. He wished he still had his clothes, he was cold now. He had never liked his Sunday best before but now he didn't have any clothes he would have worn them happily. Anyway, it was probably best that he didn't have them. Last time he had seen them they had been torn and dirty, he didn't want Mummy to be cross. He felt lonely now, and hungry. Why had he wanted to play that silly hide and seek game? He only wanted to prove that he was the bestest seeker, and now it seemed like his friends were too good at hiding for him. But why hadn't they looked for him? They had been playing for hours, hadn't they noticed he wasn't with them? Maybe they didn't like him after all...
Alfie was woken the next morning by the buzz of flies surrounding his head. He sat up and rubbed a sticky hand over his face, brushing off the soil that had stuck there during the night. What should he do today? Oh yes, he had to look for the other boys. He began to climb to the top of the highest rock, the one where.where Jack had.and Piggy had.He should be able to see everything from up there. He grabbed some berries on the way, and shoved them into his mouth. Finally he reached the top of the rock. He looked down at the island below him. He couldn't see anyone. He shouted out "Ralph! Simon! Percival! Anyone?". He shouted as loud as he could but no one replied. He was alone on the island. As this realisation struck him, he stepped back ad gasped. He felt like he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even cry. He was alone on an island, in the middle of nowhere. Where had everyone gone? Maybe they did make an airplane, as someone had once suggested during a meeting. But why didn't they take him with them? That was a mean trick. What should he do now? In a daze, he stumbled down the rock and through the forest. He ran as fast as he could until he could run no more. He collapsed onto the forest floor and wailed. Exhausted by weeping, he fell into restless sleep. He dreamed about a fruit tree. It was a small tree, perfect size for Alfie, and it held plump, juicy berries. As Alfie reached for the fruit, he realised that the fruit was in fact other things. On the end of one branch was his mother, on another his father, on another was a ship, and on another were the rest of the boys. As he reached for these things, the tree grew and grew until he couldn't reach them anymore.
When he woke up it was night-time again. Pitch-blackness surrounded him, and the trees seemed to whisper to him. He shut his eyes tight and tried as hard as he could to go to sleep again. He would get up later. If the others had made an airplane, then he could make one too. He was a big boy, Mummy always said. He wondered if Mummy would bake a cake for him when he got home. He hoped it would be a chocolate one. He liked chocolate. He would fly home in his airplane, and run into the house. Mummy would come out of the kitchen and pick him up in her arms. And Daddy would come home from work early especially. But how do you make an airplane? He was sure it couldn't be too hard.
When it got lighter, Alfie walked around the forest collecting useful looking sticks, and humming a made-up tune to himself. He gathered them up in his arms and made his way to the beach, leaving an accidental trail of dropped sticks behind him. He reached the beach and sat down on the hot sand. Carefully and calmly, he laid out all of the sticks in size order. He paused and looked at them thoughtfully. He frowned. What I really need is some of Daddy's tools, a hammer and some nails, and some more sticks, and one of those whirry things that they have in motorcars, an engine, that was what it was called. He couldn't make a proper plane without them. He held two sticks together, closed his eyes and hoped that they would magically join together so he could begin to make his airplane. He opened one eye, hardly daring to peek. He opened both of his eyes and sighed. Maybe magic only worked in England. He tried again. And again. Nothing happened. How could the other boys have left the island if they hadn't built an airplane? Then he remembered the ship he had seen, and the shouting he had heard while he was counting in the cave, and he realised. They had forgotten him.
AN: ok, what was originally intended to be a one shot, one story thing, has now turned into a collection of short Lord of the Flies stories, all written by me and my friends for English. Hope you like them!
*********************************
"Twelvety, fourteen, twoty, erm.. ninety, twenty. Coming ready or not!" Alfie put his chubby five-year old hands down and opened his eyes. Carefully he moved the branches that hid the entrance to the cave, and climbed out into the forest, cautiously stepping over any sharp twigs and stones. He turned in a complete circle, waiting for the telltale giggle that would lead him to the hiding place of his friends. It didn't come. He walked a little further into the forest, and saw something move behind a tree. Alfie smiled to himself and crept closer as fast as his bare legs could carry him. He took a deep breath and pounced behind the tree. "Found you! Found you!" but there was no one there, it had just been a branch in the breeze. Disheartened, he continued to walk deeper into the forest searching for his friends. He was frustrated now, he had thought he was the bestest hide-and-seeker ever. He never cheated, even when he had heard shouting and running outside he had stayed in the cave with his hands clamped over his eyes, counting as best he could. It was harder to count now. Mummy had helped him learn but he had forgotten, he had even nearly forgotten Mummy. Alfie put this thought to the back of his mind and carried on looking. The forest began to get cooler, and Alfie's stomach rumbled so loudly that it surprised even him. He wandered off to a tree with tasty looking berries on it, and reached as high as he could to get to the best fruit. He jumped and grabbed a handful of berries, letting the pink-purple juice run down his dirty fingers. As he licked the juice off his hands, he wished Simon were there to help him. Simon had been the best fruit-picker. He hadn't seen Simon for a while, maybe he had gone on one of his walks in the forest? Or maybe he'd gone for a swim? Alfie didn't know.
After eating as much fruit as he could pick, Alfie decided he had had enough of this game. Where were his friends? He was cross with them now, didn't they know that it was getting late? He called out into the forest for them "George! Nicholas! Percival!", but the sound of the evening breeze whispering through the trees was the only thing that answered him. He called out again, this time more desperately. Still no one answered. He threw himself down on the floor and folded his arms. "I don't want to play anymore. This is a silly game. Come out. I don't want to play!". Alfie looked up, expecting to see three grinning faces. But no one was there. Maybe they had gone down onto the beach to build a sandcastle or something? Yes, that would be it, they liked playing with the sand. With this fresh inspiration Alfie leapt up and ran back the way he had come. He skipped onto the beach, kicking the sand as he went. He dipped a toe into the shallow blue water that crawled up the beach and kissed the golden sand. It wasn't too cold. He walked in the cool water for a while, after all, why should his silly friends have all the fun? He called out for them again, sure this time that they would answer. They would all meet up, and go and find some lovely fruit to eat and then they could play another game or they could find a nice spot to sleep in. Still no one came. He looked out at the disappearing sun sinking slowly into the sea. But then he noticed something, a black object sailing out into the ocean. He looked closer and realised that it was the silhouette of a ship. A ship! He knew he must do something, but what? He should tell Ralph, yes that's what he should do. Ralph was always talking to the big boys about going home in a ship. But where was Ralph? Alfie glanced around but the beach was deserted. He turned back to the ship. A look of confusion appeared on his fruit-stained face. The ship was smaller than it had been before, he could hardly see it at all now. It was getting further away from him and the island. Oh well, it was just a ship, he was sure that another one would come along soon to rescue him and all the other boys.
It was darker now, and Alfie was getting tired. He wanted to keep looking for the other boys before he gave in to the night. He didn't like night- time, it was when he thought of home and his blue bedroom, or was it green? Mummy wouldn't have anyone to read a story to tonight, and he had no one to tuck him in. He sat down against a tree and closed his eyes. He wished he still had his clothes, he was cold now. He had never liked his Sunday best before but now he didn't have any clothes he would have worn them happily. Anyway, it was probably best that he didn't have them. Last time he had seen them they had been torn and dirty, he didn't want Mummy to be cross. He felt lonely now, and hungry. Why had he wanted to play that silly hide and seek game? He only wanted to prove that he was the bestest seeker, and now it seemed like his friends were too good at hiding for him. But why hadn't they looked for him? They had been playing for hours, hadn't they noticed he wasn't with them? Maybe they didn't like him after all...
Alfie was woken the next morning by the buzz of flies surrounding his head. He sat up and rubbed a sticky hand over his face, brushing off the soil that had stuck there during the night. What should he do today? Oh yes, he had to look for the other boys. He began to climb to the top of the highest rock, the one where.where Jack had.and Piggy had.He should be able to see everything from up there. He grabbed some berries on the way, and shoved them into his mouth. Finally he reached the top of the rock. He looked down at the island below him. He couldn't see anyone. He shouted out "Ralph! Simon! Percival! Anyone?". He shouted as loud as he could but no one replied. He was alone on the island. As this realisation struck him, he stepped back ad gasped. He felt like he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even cry. He was alone on an island, in the middle of nowhere. Where had everyone gone? Maybe they did make an airplane, as someone had once suggested during a meeting. But why didn't they take him with them? That was a mean trick. What should he do now? In a daze, he stumbled down the rock and through the forest. He ran as fast as he could until he could run no more. He collapsed onto the forest floor and wailed. Exhausted by weeping, he fell into restless sleep. He dreamed about a fruit tree. It was a small tree, perfect size for Alfie, and it held plump, juicy berries. As Alfie reached for the fruit, he realised that the fruit was in fact other things. On the end of one branch was his mother, on another his father, on another was a ship, and on another were the rest of the boys. As he reached for these things, the tree grew and grew until he couldn't reach them anymore.
When he woke up it was night-time again. Pitch-blackness surrounded him, and the trees seemed to whisper to him. He shut his eyes tight and tried as hard as he could to go to sleep again. He would get up later. If the others had made an airplane, then he could make one too. He was a big boy, Mummy always said. He wondered if Mummy would bake a cake for him when he got home. He hoped it would be a chocolate one. He liked chocolate. He would fly home in his airplane, and run into the house. Mummy would come out of the kitchen and pick him up in her arms. And Daddy would come home from work early especially. But how do you make an airplane? He was sure it couldn't be too hard.
When it got lighter, Alfie walked around the forest collecting useful looking sticks, and humming a made-up tune to himself. He gathered them up in his arms and made his way to the beach, leaving an accidental trail of dropped sticks behind him. He reached the beach and sat down on the hot sand. Carefully and calmly, he laid out all of the sticks in size order. He paused and looked at them thoughtfully. He frowned. What I really need is some of Daddy's tools, a hammer and some nails, and some more sticks, and one of those whirry things that they have in motorcars, an engine, that was what it was called. He couldn't make a proper plane without them. He held two sticks together, closed his eyes and hoped that they would magically join together so he could begin to make his airplane. He opened one eye, hardly daring to peek. He opened both of his eyes and sighed. Maybe magic only worked in England. He tried again. And again. Nothing happened. How could the other boys have left the island if they hadn't built an airplane? Then he remembered the ship he had seen, and the shouting he had heard while he was counting in the cave, and he realised. They had forgotten him.