LOTF Perspective Writing - Chapter Four

Lord of the Flies
Chapter 4 – Painted Faces and Long Hair
“The Beginning of What Could Happen”
Perspective: Simon

A warm breeze brushes my tangled hair away from my face. It is reaching my shoulder now, showing how long we have been on this forsaken island. Tropical birds chirp but give no hint to where they perch, hidden in the palms. The blatant sounds from the littluns playing on the beach mingles with the susurration of the waves crashing against the reef and numbs my mind from what happened this afternoon. Then the underbrush rustles behind me and I hear a pig squeal and I am jolted back into my memory. The malevolent look on Jack’s face appears in my thoughts and the scene automatically replays itself.

Jack’s eyes glint beneath his painted face before he shoves his bloody fist into Piggy’s soft stomach. Piggy doubles over to look at the burned, bare earth. His shrill voice rings out as he criticizes Jack, and Jack’s hand swings towards Piggy’s face and his glasses get knocked to the ground.

I fear that this is just the beginning of what could happen on this island if we aren’t rescued soon. The atmosphere on this island has become bad, even wicked at times. Little Johnny told me Roger was throwing stones at him. Later on I walk up to see Johnny teasing a smaller child. Some of the older boys are not good influences on them, and I worry that if the older boys don’t watch out for them, something worse could happen. I try my best, but there are too many. It crushes me to hear them crying for their mothers and tossing at the mercy of bad dreams at night, when the darkness eats up all of the good thoughts. The sun and the light is like a balm for them; during the day, they spend most of their time playing with the others on the beach, like the ones in front of me are doing so now.

It is hard adjusting to this new life on the island, whereas the littluns play and eat all day, us older ones barely have time for play, as we work hard to make a suitable shelter and find food. And most importantly, trying to get ourselves rescued. We were so close today. The thin line of gray smoke I saw today, just over the horizon taunts me; I keep seeing make-believe ships on the ocean. If only the smoke signal was burning on the top of the mountain, we could all be in fresh clothes and heading home to our families. Jack should have told the hunter who were in charge of the signal fire to stay there. He was so irresponsible! Him and his masks; he feels like he can do anything with it on. It was like he was impalpable to sympathy and regret when he had it on. But he came back with a dead pig hanging on a stick, black gouts dropping from her, and smiling like he was possessed.