Blog 9-After-Piggy's Journal

The morning light shines bright and clear. We spent the night shuddering and trying to come to terms with what happened last night. The word "Murder" echoes in my head again and again. Auntie always said that murderers where always caught. Ralph stirs beside me. He opens an eye. There is a cut on his face. He was there last night too. Now both of us are too ashamed to acknowledge what we know. He turns to me.
"Piggy?" I turn an inquisitive eye toward him. "What should we do? I mean, about Simon?" I stifle a feeling of guilt.
"What about him?" he looks pained. The guilt of what we did to the shy, quiet boy called Simon makes both of us awkward.
"You know, we murdered him." He pauses.
"Don't talk like that." I gesticulate wildly. "He brought it on himself. Coming like that out of the woods. Crawling. He was batty, bonkers." He looks almost reassured. But not fully. "I was only on the outside. The lightening, the rain, the thunder. We were scared." He looks blank and uncertain. There is a haunted, hunted look in his eyes.
"I don't know what I was." He laughs harshly. "What are we going to do?"
"Call a meeting?" I suggest. He chuckles in harsh amusement.
"And the mob would listen? Not on my life." I feel something in me reject his depression.
"You're still chief." His laughter gets louder. "Over us, I mean."
"And who is us?" He asks, stifling his bitter laughter.
"There's me, and some littluns."
"No one else?"
"Oh, Samneric." He sighs regretfully.
"How can we keep a fire going with so few people?" Just then Samneric come out of the wood carrying a big log for the fire. It is huge and draped with snapped creepers. They greet us cheerfully.
“Hello, we were just-“
“-Getting wood for the fire.” We nod; glad that at least some of the boys are still loyal.
“How are you?” They ask Ralph. He answers uncertainly.
"I don't really know." Eventually the conversation goes back to last night. The heat, the smothering heat feels like it still upon me. The way the phosphorescent animals surrounded Simon’s head like a halo lingers. It forces it's way into my conscious mind as a murmur of regret and shame.
The twins bear the obvious marks of having been at the dance yet they say that they left early. I understand. The dance isn’t the kind of thing that you want to admit even to yourself. I almost managed to convince myself that Ralph and I left the sinister party early before the dancing had begun. We keep working on the fire. Ralph hedges and avoids the subject of Simon whenever possible. I humor him and leave it out of the usual conversation loop. Guilt still washes over me in sickening waves. Simon, screaming and trying to defend himself from the pack. A pack that all of us were a part of. Even me, and Ralph.
Something in Ralph seems to have died last night. As we struggle to build up the fire I can see that he is starting to lose hope. If we lose Ralph there is no way to survive. If he goes to Jack then we have no one to protect us from the horrors of Jack’s godlike wrath. He has become an idol. He, for one, is beyond saving. Too far gone to be shown a reasonable way to live. After so much hard work I feel the twins beginning to cave in. They need rest and I can't do enough because of my asthma. Sam lays down.
“Why do we even got to keep the fire going? What's the good?” he complains. Ralph and I look and feel indignation.
“Sam! We need the fire to be rescued!” Ralph says firmly. Eric sits down next to his twin.
“Sam’s right. What is the point at all?” Ralph backs up his claims but his words are weak. Even to himself I think he knows that the island is winning. We allow the fire to go out for the night. I dream of home an school. Places where there is order and method and no Jack Merridew trying to kill a pig. The relief would be so immense. That’s all I want. Just a rest and to be home at last. Home and off this island. The stars shine through the cracks in the roof of leaves. Suddenly, a noise is heard outside. I sense Ralph's fear of it possibly being the beast. But the beast isn't real. It is only a part of our imagination. Ralph sits up. The noise comes again.
“Piggy, come out.” The voice says. Ralph shakily suggests the beast. The voice continues. Slowly, Ralph and I exit the hut. As we do so I have an asthma attack. I collapse panting. I wheeze and cough. I hear the sounds of a battle erupt all around. Ralph yelps in pain. Sam whimpers. Eric swears. And I hear footsteps coming toward me. I see the faint shape of Jack above me. He smiles maliciously. He reaches a hand down to my face and snatches my glasses off my nose. Then he disappears. I see the ghostly forms of Roger and Maurice. They go off. I can barely see beyond the end of my nose. With out my glasses I am almost as blind as a bat.
Ralph and Samneric come out. Eric has a bloody face, Sam is frightened and self-conscious. Ralph is walking strangely. From what they say it sounds like a stealth attack. They must have come suddenly. As they did they must have hoped to lure me out. Then they snatched my glasses and left. Leaving Ralph and Samneric to fight each other without knowing it. I don’t tell them this. As we look out after the retreating figures of the thieves I feel order slipping. They melt into the shadows at the edge of my limited vision.