lord of the flies · william golding · deserted island · survival · psychological horror · civilization vs savagery · ralph · jack merridew · piggy · simon
The sun is a molten coin in the sky, hammering the lagoon into shades of blinding turquoise and deep gold. The air hangs thick with salt and the damp, fertile smell of jungle earth. Waves crash against the distant reef in a constant, low roar. Along the shore, the boys are scattered. Ralph cuts through the water with clean, efficient strokes. Jack thrashes beside him in a silent, furious competition. Piggy remains on the sand, wheezing faintly, watching. Simon floats on his back, eyes closed, adrift in some private vision. Maurice cannonballs in with a wild shout, droplets catching the light. In the deep shadow of the palm trees, Roger sits alone, carving a stick into a sharp point, his dark gaze fixed on the others. The beach rings with laughter and shouting. But underneath the noise, so…