It's the end! I told you I'd give you an uplifting ending, and here it is! Anyway, yeah. One of the few things I've managed to finish in my life. Enjoy.

On the other side of the island, Ralph was wiping away his bitter tears. What had happened? What was going on? His mind reeled, tried to understand, came back empty. Nothing was going the way he planned. There was nothing left. Nothing left of his tribe, of anything. He glanced down at his hands, stained dark red from the blood. He looked from his hands to his tribe and back again. His tribe—oh, his tribe—which consisted of nothing more than the dead bodies of Simon and Maurice.

Had Piggy been right? Was Simon dead all along? Ralph had only tried to hurt Maurice and save him so he might feel indebted to Ralph as Simon had. But had Simon really been indebted at all? All Ralph knew was that when he had brought Maurice back to the beach, Simon was dead. Dead and slightly rotted, with his eyes gouged out and his abdomen ripped open and emptied. There were scratch and bite marks all over him, and not a single one of his bones was unbroken. It wasn't possible that Jack's tribe had attacked when Ralph went to get Maurice—they had all been there the entire time, watching him with wide eyes and trembling mouths. As though he were some sort of beast.

The weight of what he had done fell on Ralph's shoulders like the sheet of blackness that descended over the island every night. He was the beast. He'd murdered Maurice—and, if Piggy was to be believed, taken part in Simon's death—and now there was nothing left of him, either. Simon was right: they were the beast, all of them were, and none of them would know it until it was too late. Ralph wanted nothing more than to be home, to be awaken in his own bed and have his father tell him it was all a dream. But that was never going to happen.

A quiet whisper drifted to his ear, carried delicately by the wind: What else is there to do...? The voice was eerily familiar, but comforting somehow, and Ralph knew right then the answer to the question. He stood, taking one last look at the two dead boys, and walked into the forest.

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Piggy rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and sniffled. Even though he knew it was foolish, he glanced around him to make sure that no one had seen him blubbing. He still considered himself the voice of reason, even throughout all of this, and he felt that his breakdown was just another sign that everything was going to the madhouse.

Still, he felt much better after finally letting himself go. There was something oddly peaceful about the island: waves crashed distantly against the shore, the setting sun glowed on the horizon, and the sounds of the evening played in his ears. He lay on the ground with his hands behind his head and let the warmth of the ground soak into his back. Surprisingly, the dwindling light didn't seem so scary. Instead, it was almost a cloak of protection from the harsh daylight. His anxiety was still, there, but it was buried beneath feelings of peace he hadn't had in what felt like a very long time. The threat of Jack and his hunters still loomed, but he knew that – at least for now – they were preoccupied with Ralph and were not likely to worry about attacking him. Piggy figured that it was pointless to fill his last days with fear and stress. For once, it was nice to be the one to not have to worry about everything.

Suddenly, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and he jumped. His eyes flew open to reveal Ralph standing over him, his fair hair stringy and stained with dirt and blood. Piggy scrambled into a sitting position, too surprised to do anything but stare. Finally, he spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Ralph, what're you doing here? Haven't you got other things to bother with, besides me?"

Ralph gazed at him sadly, and Piggy noticed that the crazed look was gone from his eyes. "No," he replied. "Look, Piggy – I'm real sorry about what happened. And you were right: Maurice and Simon are dead."

Piggy didn't reply. He simply sat and waited for the fair boy to explain himself.

After a brief pause, Ralph continued. "I-I guess I was acting a bit barmy, and I understand if you want to get rid of me now."

"Ralph, I never wanted to get rid of you," said Piggy. "You were the only one who made a lick of sense. Jack and his tribe are just as barmy as you are. Can't think of nothing but taking you out. I don't want to be around them, neither."

"I just want you to know that I'm not barmy anymore," said Ralph. "But it's okay if you want to avoid me. Sorry for trying to kill you."

"Look," Piggy began, "I know you feel bad about what happened, and you ought to, because it was a downright dirty thing you did. But...I know I helped with Simon in that there dance...so I'm just as barmy as anybody."

Ralph smiled weakly. "Thanks," he said. "Thanks for not running away."

"I know we done some bad things," replied Piggy. "But I don't think we're the beast."

"Why not?"

"Well, we're here, aren't we? We're talking like normal people – like grown-ups would. Jack and the others, they aren't doing that. They're still in the forest and want to take us out. I think that everyone's done stuff like we done, but the better people can come out of it and be normal people again."

Ralph smiled at the idea. "I hope so," he said. "Now let's build a fire."

Piggy blinked. "Ralph, don't tell me you've gone barmy again. You know that if we light that fire right now, then everyone's gonna know where we are, and then they're gonna kill us!"

"I know," said Ralph, "but I also think it's the only thing we can do. You know we probably won't ever leave this island...even if we tried to make smoke, they'd get us before any grown-ups could see. Don't you want to do something good before they do? Get us, I mean."

Piggy nodded. He realized in his heart that Ralph was right; the whole island was turned against them, and their chances of rescue were very slim. Even if they did go back home, Piggy wasn't sure if he would want to carry the memories from the past couple of days around with him for the rest of his life.

"Let's wait a while," he said, finally. He and Ralph walked to the beach, strategically avoiding the two bodies that were lying near the platform. They sat by the water's edge and stared into the sunset, watching the waves bounce on the surface of the ocean.

"Do you suppose Simon and Maurice are out there?" asked Ralph.

"I dunno," said Piggy. "Might be. They might be right here, too." He pointed at his temple with a chubby finger.

Ralph laughed. "You saw them, too?"

"Yeah, but not in the same way you done claimed."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"You were the best friend I could've asked for on this island, Piggy," Ralph said finally. "By the way, what is your real name?"

"It's Collin," said Collin. "Collin Carlisle."

"That's a nice name," said Ralph. The two were silent for several more moments.

"So...is it time?" Ralph asked.

The boy once known as Piggy nodded. They walked toward the forest and gathered enough wood to create a sizeable fire, one that was likely to gather the attention of anyone in the area. Piggy removed his glasses and held them against the glow of the setting sun. The light caught, and soon a small flame was licking the pile of wood. The two children stared into the flame, feeling its warmth and the warmth of their friendship.

Even if they had once been the beast, that was behind them now. In the end, they had done all they had ever wanted to do...they didn't let the fire out.