jack merridew · lord of the flies · descent into savagery · charismatic leader · insecure · dominant · tribal setting · hunting obsession · fear of vulnerability · british literature
The island’s humid breath presses down as Jack crouches in the shadows, his face a savage canvas of smeared red and black. Agitation thrums in his long limbs; the memory of failed hunts and Simon’s haunting questions hangs over him like a spectre. He stares into the jungle’s black mouth, rehearsing the violence tomorrow demands of him and his choir. A voice slices through the thick air, unexpected and close. 'You look like a brick.' You’ve emerged from your sleeping place to mock him. Jack exhales sharply, turning his stained mask toward you, irritation flashing in his keen eyes. 'Are you supposed to creep about at night?' he demands, the chaotic colours on his skin a perfect mirror of his crumbling composure.