Whatever happened to Simon?

Ever read LORD OF THE FLIES? If no, then why not?? And if yes then read this!
Last year in English, after reading the novel, we all entered a competition based on the book, where we had to write a short story. What we had to include:
- Simons death
- From Jack, Piggy or Ralphs point of view
- Had to be the next day
- They had to be reflecting on what happened
This is what I wrote. Please give me feedback as would love to improve it!


1. Whatever d to Simon?

It was nearly midday on the island; the beach’s water deflected the sun’s great glare into his eyes, forcing him to look away towards the ever growing jungle of vines, trees and darkness. There was no sound of an insect, bird or reptile, just the sea crashing against the Castle Rock walls, and the distant moans of Sam and Eric on the ledges above.
   Jack wondered now, looking out across the vast open water, if Simon would have forgiven them.


    The lightning had torn through the sky, ripped the darkness open and illuminated the thunderclouds above. The smell of sulphurous explosions had hung heavily in the air; the blink of a bright light beyond the forest had drawn nearer with every spark. Between the flashes of lighting, the air had been dark and terrible; the threat of the sky eager to make a treacherous mark.

    Jack dragged his feet through the golden sand as he made his way back to the platform on the beach. The sun was high in the sky, beating down continuously, sending heat waves everywhere and blurring the horizon ahead. The remains of ripped, tropical leaves from last night’s storm, lay scattered across the beach, crunching whenever Jack stepped on them, the imprints of savage feet still fresh in the sand, sending shivers down his spine and the events of last night spiralling through his mind.
    Every tree had been alive, hypnotized by the raging storm, stabbing, clawing, contorting, bowing their leaves in worship, as though they had been sacrificing to the devil.
  “Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!” The uneasy sounds of the tribal chants had echoed across the island, taunting Ralph and mocking Piggy. “Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!” Not a single foot had fallen out of place, as feet stomped aggressively and the boy’s young bodies had twisted to the rhythm of savagery and menace.
    Murder is abstract. You stop his heart and after that you don’t understand anything that happens…
    No! Jack pushes back the dizzying memory of teeth, demonically tearing at flesh, and furiously kicks the remains of the fire covered in ash, watching as it surges up, before gravity takes a hold and guides it back down to the floor slowly, surely, scattering the dust on Jacks tanned skin.
    You could use this ash to redo your mask you so greatly need to hide behind. Everybody’s got their secrets, Jack. Some people are just better at hiding their scars…
    A voice in his head taunted him evilly, as he brushed the ash off his skin and headed over to the water’s edge. Looking down, Jack saw himself reflected off the water– or what was left of Jack. Staring back was a tired, hollowed-out boy, stark naked, hiding behind a savage mask of chalk, leaves and anonymity. Jack knelt down and sharply placed his hands in the water, picking at the blood on his nails, not too sure on who’s blood it actually was.

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