LOTF My Alternate Ending

                                                         Ch.13

                   

Ralph ran through the meadow, Heart pounding, matted hair flinging in front of his face. He trampled the yellow flowers, frail in their beauty. Dashed through the open space where the sow had died, still barren, lifeless, as if Nature were afraid to grow back into it.

Behind him, savage ululations resounded,

nearby, threatening, victorious.

Maybe it was his dangling hair—always in front of his eyes -- maybe it was the fear—paralyzing and choking-- or simply bad luck.

He tripped on the Lord of The Flies hollow skull, sprawling onto the pitted stone floor. His foot caught in a hole, twisted at an unnatural angle.

Ralph howled in pain.

He tried getting up, but could not move, his ankle restrained him so.

A rustle of bushes attracted Ralph´s attention. Out from the darkness stepped Roger, cruelly brandishing a spear,  sharpened at both ends.

Ralph dragged himself away desperately, ending up in the flattened circle, where the sow had met her demise. Roger advanced leisurely towards him, Face devoid of pity, remorse, or regret.

He could not go on any longer, Ralph collapsed, and the last he saw, was Roger standing over him, blotting out the sun, and the six-inch grin of the Lord of The Flies, gazing vacantly at him, mocking, victorious.

“You´re not chief! And we will not be sending extra hunting parties!”

 Jack yelled.

Roger stared coolly back at him, expressionless save for a twitch in his jaw,

close to the scar he had received in a hunting accident three days ago.

It was not openly acknowledged, but in the days since the death of “The Enemy”, Roger had been making many of the tribal decisions, and had become much more socially active.

He led his own hunting parties, made up of unusually cruel and violent hunters;

They used stone-tipped spears, and always brought back boars when they went hunting.

Roger had slowly been gaining the tribe´s trust, and making alliances, while the Chief kept to himself, muttering in his shelter into the late hours of the night.

“I don´t care what you and your hunters think! I´m chief, and my word is law!”

In contrast to Jack, Roger did not shout, or have to raise his voice to make himself heard.

His voice carried enough menace, decisiveness, and authority to reach all ears.

A large group of boys had made a circle around them, listening in to their discussion.

Roger addressed them.

“Who said we he would kill Piggy? Who swore, threatened, and tried to do so every day? Jack did.”

                “But who launched the rock that killed him? Who said that he would eliminate the barrier to our having fun, Ralph “the Great Enemy”.  Jack did. But outside whose shelter does his severed head stand?”

“Enough of this!” Jack shouted “Who thinks I should still be chief?!”

Though Jack´s anger was terrible to behold, Roger´s cold, calculating gaze, and the menacing miasma about him terrified the boys. It hinted at punishments to come, and tortures to suffer if he was angered.

Jack waited. No hands went up. Tears of rage came to his eyes, and he stared accusingly and murderously at the congregation. He made as if to attack Roger, but he was protected by his hunters.

Jack fled, running along the bluffs where Piggy met his demise. Roger chased after him, all the way to the entry of Castle Rock, where he readied himself, and promptly hurled his spear will all his strength at Jack.

It caught him in the legs, and he stumbled to the ground clumsily.

Roger´s hunters ran over to him, and with fingers made nimble from practice, tied him up and brought him back.

Roger smirked as Jack was brought back, and from Jack´s belt he drew out the knife.

He appraised his shelter critically, on one side stood Ralph´s head, frozen in a expression of utter terror, but the left side was bare, missing something.

The chief glanced at Jack, and then, with his newly acquired knife, began to sharpen a stick at both ends.

    Rationale

After the disbanding of the first tribe, and the death of democracy, Jack held power for a while. The savages were getting used to their new lifestyle and their freedom to what they wished. Throughout the novel, Roger had been experimenting with and testing the boundaries of society. Towards the beginning, he threw the rocks at the little children playing in the sand, but threw to miss; towards the middle, he begins to change into a violent person, shoving a spear up the sow´s butt when they were hunting.

When Jack´s tribe was formed, and Roger was free to do whatever he wished, he had an epiphany of a sort, a revelation. There were no adults or any civilization on the island to restrain him. He was free to act how he wished.

After Piggy´s death at Roger´s hands, the power and authority in the tribe began to lean towards him. The boys were no longer afraid of Jack, but Roger. When Jack threatens the twins, they don´t feel frightened. Roger shoulders Jack out of the way, emboldened by his killing of Piggy, and advances upon the twins “wielding a nameless authority” as they sat terrified on the ground.

Though Jack threatened to kill Piggy, it was Roger who actually did so, lending him – in the eyes of the tribe—a combination of respect and fear.

If Ralph had died, no doubt it would´ve been Roger who carried out the deed, as Jack was content to let the others live on the other side of the island, while Roger wants to kill them all.

It is very plausible that there would have been a power struggle if they stayed longer on the island, and since Roger is ruthless and prepared to kill for anything, he would have come out the victor, with no one in the tribe daring to oppose him.

I decided to start the story from when Ralph was being hunted, so as to keep the events that had happened before which would lead up to the hunt.

LOTF Tanka poem Ch.10

Fire´s important
fire cooks the meat, fire
lights the night. Maybe
that´s why chief Jack stole that which
belonged to Piggy, by right.

Tankas

1.
Sitting blakly there
staring out the window pane.
Glued to the cold chair,
mo thought, no feeling, except
the crushing, killing boredom.

2.
Simon tried to banish
their ignorance and their fear.
but frightened boys stabbed
him with their spears, and so brought
strife, in the taking of his life.

3.
What truly is a poem?
Pretty lines made to rhyme, or things
worth more than the average dime?
Man´s great crim, is when he writes,
with words harsh as leaves of thyme.

You Can´t Have It All

But you can have wild blackberries and strawberries,
those that grow untamed on fences,
sweet and tangy,
like gifts from nature.
You can have the comforting warmth
of your dog´s paws pressing up to you at night,
and his cold black nose resting on your cheek.
You can have a cold drink after a hot day,
soothing,
refreshing,
like an oasis in a desert.
You can´t have it all,
but you can have lazy Sundays,
the kind that you stay in bed until 12,
just because you can,
and nothing stops you.
You can have pictures,
the kind freeze a moment in time,
so when you look at them,
you remember,
and you smile or laugh,
as if you traveled back to that day.
You can´t have it all,
but you can enjoy simple pleasures,
like playing Frisbee with your dogs,
a game of pool volleyball with your big brother,
or just a book and a couch.
You can have one of those family moments,
the ones where you remember fondly,
playing Monopoly by lantern-light,
when the electricity goes out.
You can go to sleep on the beach,
lulled to sleep by the lullaby of the waves,
dashing against the sand,
and then foaming back into the sea which birthed them,
and the palm tree´s cool shade,
and its leaves constant rustle,
familiar,
comforting.
You can´t have it all,
but you can have these things.

Poetry Notebook Compilation

Theme: Loss

Come Back!

Description: Loss may be one of the most haunting themes in poetry, in which poets make us acutely feel their emotions as if our own. This is perhaps one of the most recurring themes in both ancient, classic, and modern poetry.

Synopsis: Enclosed here you will find poems made those who lost someone, or themselves, permanently or temporarily, due to sickness, war, time, and other reasons.

War and Children! by Patrice Bennet
The Family Has Been Informed by Roger Elkin
Death Of A Hero by Anonymous
American Soldier´s Wife by Tonya Shore
Seek Not My Heart by Kit McCallum
Scattered Echoes by Todd-Michael St. Pierre
The Cost of Freedom by Ron Tranmer
The Journey by Anonymous
For The Fallen by Laurence Binyon

Peale Green

Benjamin Moore

HC-121

Her prized copper plates,                                                                                                                                             

her only memento of her parents,

the only possession she values.

She takes care of them meticulously.

But six times a year,

When birthdays come,

She opens up the cupboard,

wasted, worn, and old,

but clean.

And she takes out her plates,

to polish them with a torn washcloth.  

Sometimes she wipes them clean with water

from the bucket placed under the leak,

other times with her tears,

but the rag glides over the plates anyways.

Each times she cleans the green film over the copper away,

she sees her prized mementos a little thinner,

sees them wasted, worn, and old.

Till one day, as the rag glided over the smooth surface,

her

precious,

prized,

possessions scattered on the floor,

worn to dust,

as if ashes,

the ashes of her parents,

her last memory of them.

But she stood strong, a rock, a pillar,

letting neither sob,

moan,

nor groan,

hold her hostage,

preventing the grief and regret from swallowing her up.

And when she came to their faithful table,

Scratched, cracked, and gouged over the years,

she set down their normal plates, chipped and cracked,

wasted, worn, and old,

she is still happy, congratulating her son, carefully rationing out portions of their meager meals.

Her husband,

wasted,

worn,

and old beyond his years,

catches her eye and sends a wordless apology.

She nods, the only acknowledgement,

the only inch ceded,

a minuscule chink in her armor,

the one sign of her grief shown.

In the darker hours of the night,

she allows herself to be comforted, but never cries,

knowing she would still repeat her actions if given the chamce,

that the rag would glide over the copper once more,

until it became

wasted,

worn,

weary,

and turned to ashes.

Her husband tells her the news.

He´s been promoted to foreman,

and swears they´ll move out of their old house,

and live a new life.

For once, in a long while,

they feel

new,

happy,

and young.

He swears to buy her a new set of copper plates,

and she smiles and hugs him,

but inwardly, her smile is also sad.

There will only ever be,

one set of copper plates.           

The Knife of Never Letting Go

The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness

Publisher: Candlewick Press

Genre: Fantasy

Where I Got It: It was recommended to me, and when I found it on a shelf I decided to read it.

One Sentence Summary:  Todd Hewitt is the only boy left in Prentisstown. There are no women in Prentisstown, because they were all killed off by a virus that also rendered men able to hear each other´s thoughts.

First Sentence: ¨The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don't got nothing much to say.¨

First Chapter Review:   The first chapter introduces the reader to Todd, his dog Manchee and his surroundings. It is explained Todd lives in New Prentisstown, the only settlement left on the planet. The author also explains the history of the planet, which culminated in all women dying, and men being able to hear each other´s thoughts.                                                                                               The author sets up his environment very well, showing the overwhelming gloom and sadness that pervades the town, and the confused jumble of men´s thoughts. We can see Todd´s opinions of the town situation, and the ¨Noise¨, or the thoughts of men.

Verdict: This book easily draws the reader in, with a mysterious secret that Todd attempts to uncover throughout the book, making this a page-turner. It’s the first of a trilogy, and leaves the reader in just the right place to make him/her want to read the sequel, The Ask and The Answer.

Cover Comments: It simply shows the outline of a red knife, obviously a reference to the knife Todd carries with him throughout the book, which is given a clear symbolism. There are faint scrawled letters on the cover, written in the same format that the author uses when writing ¨Noise¨(the thought s of men).