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The boy with the fair hair lowered himself...
The conch lay at Ralph's feet, fragile and white.
He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet.
Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend Piggy.
Then he laughed so trangely they were hushed, looking at the flash of his spectacles in astonishment. They followed his gaze to find the sour joke.
The seperare noises of the fire merged into a drum-roll that seemed to shake the mountain.
The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee; the conch exploded into a thousand tiny pieces.
Piggy's arm and legs twitched a bit, like a Pig's after it has been killed.
Their bodies, from throat to ankle, were hidden by black cloaks.
The creature was a party of boys.
His laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling.
...The mask was a living thing on it's own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness...the mask compelled them.
Roger gathered a handful or stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space...into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of old life.
Roger's arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was ruins.
...and what had seemed at first an unsociable remoteness into something forbidding.
Roger advanced upon them as one weilding a nameless authority.
...Turned away from them and went where the just perceptible path lead him.
Simon was burned by the island to a deep tan.
Simon found for them fruit that they could not reach.
"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Take his blood!"
"We might stay here till we die."