Author's note: This is an assignment for English where we had to write an additional scene. This scene starts on page 199. The italics indicate text from the book, while regular text indicates original material. Enjoy!

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The second's lengthened. Ralph was looking straight into the savage's eyes.
Don't scream.
You'll get back.
Now he's seen you. He's making sure. A stick sharpened at both ends.

Then suddenly, the beast pounced. Turning, tumbling, twisting, it made contact with its prey and they rumbled down the hill until they finally landed, with Jack pinning Ralph in the candlebuds. The beast snarled, an angry, inhuman, gutteral sound. Ralph could feel its hot breath on his face as it savored the last few moments of anticipation before the kill. He could hear the screaming of fleeing birds and feel the soft brush of the white-tipped flowers against him cheek.
You'll get back where you came from. You'll get back alright.
To his left was the sow's skull, a broken reminder of a dead terror that had haunted them in the night and in front of him was the real horror that had tormented them during the day. As the flames grew steadily behind them, Ralph saw something glinting at Jack's waist, and in that same flash of Piggy, he knew what to do. Emboldened by this spark, Ralph swallowed; his dry tongue sticking to the roof of his parched mouth, and spoke.
"Are you going to kill me, Jack?" Jack raised his spear and said thickly, as though he had forgotten how to speak,
"Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!" But Ralph saw the fire of madness dim for a moment as the boy behind the beast peeked out. He saw his window of opportunity and ran headfirst towards it.
"Jack, are you going to murder me? All by yourself? No one else is here, Jack. There's no one here to back you up."
"Kill the pig!" he screamed, his voice getting more frantic, more desperate with every word.
"You didn't kill Simon. We all did." Ralph fought to keep his voice level.
"Cut his throat!"
"You didn't kill Piggy either, that was Roger."
"Spill his blood!"
"So how do I know you're really going to kill me?" The black and red mask spread itself into an evil grimace.
"Because I am the chief! I am the beast! I am the Lord of the Flies! What I say goes! I say you will die, so you will!" With that, he drove his spear almost to the base of Ralph's exposed neck. The air between them felt heavy and expectant. Ralph felt one stinging drop of sweat fall past his eyelash.
"But if you kill me here, no one will see you do it. No one will know if it was really you who did it." The beasts blue eyes narrowed in thought. The tip of the spear strayed to where it was almost touching his collarbone. Ralph felt just as close to giving up. Once again the sweet fragrance of the candlebuds wafted into his nose.
You'll get back.

Ralph screamed, a scream of fright and anger and desperation. His legs straightened, the screams became continuous and foaming. He shot forward, throwing Jack off of him, burst through the thicket, was in the open, screaming, snarling, bloody. Behind him, Jack glared and let loose the dooming ululation that brought forth the rest of the tribe. Now, with an audience, the beast snarled once more and restarted his sick game of cat and mouse. Ralph ran. He ran for reason, for truth, for the very social order of civilization. Roger darted out in from of him. He swung the stake out and the savage tumbled over; but there were others coming towards him, crying out. He swerved as a spear flew past and then was silent.