Alternative Ending for Lord of the Flies

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Alternative Ending for Lord of the Flies Ralph, half staggering, half crawling like a wounded dog, looked up into the sky for a resolution, a sign of hope. But it did not give any. The sounds of the enemy were growing closer, and Ralph's situation was becoming more urgent by the second. He had two choices: to carry on making his way towards the reef, and hope that his luck would turn and a ship would pass his way, or to go up the mountain, into the beast's realm, yet where the savages wouldn't dare look. He chose the latter. A sudden tribal cry brought him back to earth, and triggered an adrenaline rush. With forgotten energy, he leaped through the foliage into the depths of the jungle. When he awoke, sometime later, it was twilight, and the air was snappy and fresh. The sun above him was slowly bleeding away into the horizon. It was this image that brought him back to his aching body, and the chill realisation of his dire circumstances. However something was different this time. The whole world seemed surreal. Images and colours flashed before his eyes, and he felt like he was on wings, flying through the complexities of time. All of a sudden, a voice broke his state of delirium. "Its fizzled out," the voice said. Ralph swung round to its origin. He recognized that voice. "Piggy!" he cried. "I...I thought you were dead!" "It doesn't hurt that much…dying. Feels quite strange actually," Piggy exclaimed. "I'm so sorry Piggy!" "Don't worry Ralph. My auntie says we will all die one day. I mean, it was bound to happen to someone. We needed stuff that the others found boring like rules and laws. But that was... ... middle of paper ... ... off a horrendous stink, that made even Ralph's parched eyes water. "The beast," Ralph murmured. "Yes. The beast. See what I have become? But don't look so disgusted young man. Your fate will be the same as mine. The boat has left without you my son. You are now doomed to a life of death…" the beast whispered. Ralph ran as he had never done in his life. Through the brambles, vines and bushes, past the rocks and on to the beach. He squinted into the horizon. He could make out a blob, like a white blemish on a painting, far out to sea. "Come back!" he cried hysterically. And with the last breath of his lungs he shouted "Don't leave me!" With that, he fell face down in the sand. His heart gave its last beat, and the pain ebbed away. Simon was right. Death didn't hurt. Well not as much as living anyway.

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