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A year had passed since Ralph escaped from being chased by the threatening spears of savages, hunted like a pig; the experience still daunted him, following him to his dreams to make sure he'd suffer at least a hundred sleepless nights.
But a year had passed now, and he was without a single doubt, that he wouldn't even want to see their clay-painted faces till his corpse went rotten. Never. Not even once.
'Rescue' was a word discarded long ago from the boy's mind, and felt oddly uncanny to think of, it felt like the word did not exist. You could say it was stupidly useless; What was the point in being the only one dwelling on and on about a fire? Or a signal? Or some stupid smoke? It was all worth nothing now. Not when civilization had lost to savagery. And surely not when Piggy was gone.
Ralph paused, and his brain had a moment of silence for a good friend, Piggy, a true friend who stayed by his side till his death. He was one worth mourning. And Simon too, they were both good fellows. Piggy- his loyalty and intellectualism, and Simon- his pure heart. The blond thought about the qualities they possessed and faintly smiled for a moment. When his eyes reminded him of present reality, the smile disappeared. They were gone. Gone from this world and would never return, no- not even once. They had met their demise long ago.
But those who inflicted the pain? The disgusting creatures who sought pleasure in others' misery? Oh, they lived, alright. They lived their lives just fine. Jack and Roger- aren't they doing well? Not a single thought in the world for what they've done.
It made Ralph feel sick.
Sick to even think such a human could exist; to live without any remorse over their actions, yet those who do nothing but good are always met with a terrible fate. Both are undeserved.
The boy became aware of his surroundings again, as though he was lost in his thoughts and forgotten what he was doing… Right, picking the fruits. Summer season had come along and Ralph couldn’t limit his diet to just the pigs he hunted every once in a while, and the water from fresh coconuts. Killing the pigs felt cruel- almost as though he was embodying Merridew, or Roger even. He could barely approach a pig without being reminded of Merridew’s sadistic impulses. A quiet voice chanting the words, in the background… “kill the pig, cut her throat, spill her blood!”
…and it made him want to stay away from any piece of meat for the rest of his life.
Although resentful, He knew he had to put his emotions aside for the sake of necessities. Once Ralph ran out of fruit for the season, he would hunt a pig. Going vegan would not be very convenient in his given situation. But for now, he could manage.
He reached for another heavy durain from the towering tree with the help of the creepers, picking up the fruits and holding them in an armful.
these should be enough for week or two…
A sunset sky of vibrant color was fading into the muted tones of darkness, it was the end of the day and the night had come.
The boy with fair hair crouched through the entrance of the hut- covered in thick leaves to let the shivering wind know it was not welcome.
And there he was, now in his fairly new home. Needless to say, was far away from castle rock as possible. Ralph carefully placed the fruits onto a floor made of piles of coconut leaves, before dropping to his bed. Of course, it was nothing like the bed he had in his previous life... This one was made with tropical leaves and vines.
Back in England, the bed he owned was made with expensive material; pillows to sink his head in along with fluffy blankets that protected him the imaginary beasts that lurked in the darkness.
Back in England,he lived in a nice cottage and could almost remember the layout of his room.
Back in England, he had books waiting patiently on the shelf to keep him company- the boy remembered when he would sneak a flashlight under the covers, just till he finished the page; but would always end up sleepwalking the next morning.
Back in England, he had friends, and ponies, and people to talk to.
Over here, the so-called bed was not as warm or comfortable, no matter how much he had gotten used to it.
Over here, The leaves were not enough to protect him from the real beasts that lurked in the darkness, or enough for him to indulge in any kind of sleep, and ignore the reoccurring nightmares that were stuck in his mind like the roots of his hair.
Over here, the shelter had to be repaired and rebuilt frequently after every storm, there were no carpeted floors or sturdy, brick walls; instead it was made with a bamboo frame, palm trees and piles of leaves.
Over here, there was no unorganized shelf of books, waiting patiently to be read, for him to be lost in another world and flicking off the flashlight when daddy walked by the door. Not even the vintage books Mummy kept in a big box after she died, that he had finished reading in only a couple months.
Over here, he could only wonder how many of his old classmates had probably died; or if not so, what had become of their lives. Michael was the atheist boy known for his scientific knowledge and theoretical thinking. Another student, Samuel wasn’t troublesome, rather pleasant to be around- but no one payed him any attention.
Over here, there were no ponies.
Over here there was nobody for Ralph to talk to but himself. And that felt equal to talking to nobody at all.
Over here. Nobody. at all.
It's clear that Ralph was not pleased with this metamorphosis of a life. No matter how hard he tries to get accustomed , His life became meaningless- just a cycle of survival.
Why did things have to be this way?
Why did he have to go on some plane and leave his home?
Why did the plane crash?
Why were they left alone with no authority but themselves?
Why did Piggy and Simon die?
Why did everything go wrong?
Why? Just Why, Why and Why?
His old life was just fine. He never asked for this drastic change? He never asked for all this dystopia to occur? Ralph remembered the days he would go around telling everyone he was sure to be a naval officer, just like his father. What happened to that? Daddy was supposed to come get him...save him from the unfamiliar island and bring him back home, but never did.
Ralph felt only helpless, and mourned the death of his life, after all, it was all that could be done; but it was gone. Gone like Piggy and Simon, gone like his mother, gone like his old friends. It was all just a faint memory that he knew at some point will expire. The nostalgia that painted old photographs in his mind would soon start blurring and wearing away. He will forget. and then it will be all gone, nothing.
Ralph was laying on his back on the hard bed, staring at the moon through the gaps in the ‘ceiling’. Even with a nonchalant expression on his face, the boy shed slow tears that dripped down the sides of his face, and didn't bother to move golden locks that had grown much too long, out of the way. With the relaxed flutter of his eyelids, more and more tears began to appear. No sobs or anything as such. Just numbness.
'Rescue' was a word discarded long ago from the boy's mind, and felt oddly uncanny to think of, it felt like the word did not exist.
He turned to the side and prepared a useless attempt to rest; knowing damn well the past would keep his eyes stapled wide open for the rest of his life.