Post by Imorta Thaw on Oct 23, 2008 21:13:33 GMT -8
A short story meant to come after the end of Lord of the Flies.
Saving Grace
Powerful winds battered the old ship. White crested waves first threatened to swallow the vessel, then to overturn it and take it into the sea’s dark embrace. In the sky, millions of stars winked at the seemingly deserted carcass of a war ship bobbing up and down on the hostile waters of the Indian Ocean. The sounds of the sea droned out the quiet snoring of dozens of young British boys. It had been a few days since their sudden salvation from the haunted island and out to the forbidding ocean. Most of them were green with nausea.
There had been a taboo placed over the events that took place on the island; the fire, the dance, the rock, and most certainly the attempted murder. Perhaps because of this there was an odd clumsiness to the interactions between the two chiefs whenever they were careless enough to cross paths. There was an uncertainty to their actions. They were angular and adolescent, the shaky movements of formality between two strangers.
But there was no longer a need for a power struggle. They were not old enough yet to even consider questioning their saviors. The adult world still seemed as ideal and perfect to them as it had so long ago to Piggy. The shabby group of boys would have followed the adults to the end of the world.
Except Roger.
Roger, a boy whose history hung above his head like a storm cloud threatening to engulf him at any moment, the one that was young enough to be oblivious, yet old enough to be part of the insanity; the child with the eyes of a sadist.
Roger, the child who stood at the rail of the ship to watch the fireworks exploding on the horizon. Bright remnants of civilizations reflected in his deep dark eyes.
“Quiet the show they’re putting up back home, eh?” The soldier’s casual voice did not alleviate the tension in Roger’s back.
“Yes, sir.” The classical remark tumbled out of the boy’s mouth with practiced ease. Only a few days had been enough to return the long practiced habits of civilization.
Seemingly at ease, the sailor nodded and returned to his patrol of the ship. Two reflective specks followed his progress.
“Odd place,” A young boy with non descriptive brown hair approached Roger. Too young to notice the malice in the older boy’s eyes, he non-the-less felt the hair on the back of his neck go up. In an effort to start a conversation, the newcomer molded his face into a cheerful smile, “Getting a little chilly.”
Pointedly ignoring him, Roger stared into the night. He fought the amused smile that was trying to sneak its way onto his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the kid shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.
“If you leave over a ways, you can sometimes see sharks swimming around the boat.” Roger’s comment, though ominous, brought relief to the younger boy’s face. The latter, trying to grasp what he saw as threads of approval, smiled nervously, and approached the rail. “Farther,” came a whisper from behind that made the younger kid jump. He chuckled, trying to regain his composure. And leaned.
~~~
Bursts of flames reflected in Roger’s eyes. “What a gullible kid.” He mumbled under his nose, “There aren’t any sharks around the boat at this time of night.” But Roger wasn’t so sure any more. After all, if there weren’t any sharks, then why wasn’t there any screaming?
He shrugged, turning, and lost his balance, landing flat on his bottom.
The warning came a moment too late, “Brace yourselves!”
A burst of light, then a blast of sound; the ship vibrated with energy from the impact. The lonely boy only had enough time to rise before the next impact. This one hit the mark.
Three more control shots were fired, then silence. Only the stars were left to wink at the white crested waves. The Indian Ocean was silent.
Saving Grace
Powerful winds battered the old ship. White crested waves first threatened to swallow the vessel, then to overturn it and take it into the sea’s dark embrace. In the sky, millions of stars winked at the seemingly deserted carcass of a war ship bobbing up and down on the hostile waters of the Indian Ocean. The sounds of the sea droned out the quiet snoring of dozens of young British boys. It had been a few days since their sudden salvation from the haunted island and out to the forbidding ocean. Most of them were green with nausea.
There had been a taboo placed over the events that took place on the island; the fire, the dance, the rock, and most certainly the attempted murder. Perhaps because of this there was an odd clumsiness to the interactions between the two chiefs whenever they were careless enough to cross paths. There was an uncertainty to their actions. They were angular and adolescent, the shaky movements of formality between two strangers.
But there was no longer a need for a power struggle. They were not old enough yet to even consider questioning their saviors. The adult world still seemed as ideal and perfect to them as it had so long ago to Piggy. The shabby group of boys would have followed the adults to the end of the world.
Except Roger.
Roger, a boy whose history hung above his head like a storm cloud threatening to engulf him at any moment, the one that was young enough to be oblivious, yet old enough to be part of the insanity; the child with the eyes of a sadist.
Roger, the child who stood at the rail of the ship to watch the fireworks exploding on the horizon. Bright remnants of civilizations reflected in his deep dark eyes.
“Quiet the show they’re putting up back home, eh?” The soldier’s casual voice did not alleviate the tension in Roger’s back.
“Yes, sir.” The classical remark tumbled out of the boy’s mouth with practiced ease. Only a few days had been enough to return the long practiced habits of civilization.
Seemingly at ease, the sailor nodded and returned to his patrol of the ship. Two reflective specks followed his progress.
“Odd place,” A young boy with non descriptive brown hair approached Roger. Too young to notice the malice in the older boy’s eyes, he non-the-less felt the hair on the back of his neck go up. In an effort to start a conversation, the newcomer molded his face into a cheerful smile, “Getting a little chilly.”
Pointedly ignoring him, Roger stared into the night. He fought the amused smile that was trying to sneak its way onto his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the kid shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.
“If you leave over a ways, you can sometimes see sharks swimming around the boat.” Roger’s comment, though ominous, brought relief to the younger boy’s face. The latter, trying to grasp what he saw as threads of approval, smiled nervously, and approached the rail. “Farther,” came a whisper from behind that made the younger kid jump. He chuckled, trying to regain his composure. And leaned.
~~~
Bursts of flames reflected in Roger’s eyes. “What a gullible kid.” He mumbled under his nose, “There aren’t any sharks around the boat at this time of night.” But Roger wasn’t so sure any more. After all, if there weren’t any sharks, then why wasn’t there any screaming?
He shrugged, turning, and lost his balance, landing flat on his bottom.
The warning came a moment too late, “Brace yourselves!”
A burst of light, then a blast of sound; the ship vibrated with energy from the impact. The lonely boy only had enough time to rise before the next impact. This one hit the mark.
Three more control shots were fired, then silence. Only the stars were left to wink at the white crested waves. The Indian Ocean was silent.
