Dear Diary, Ralph for the last time. I'm completely alone now—no Piggy, no Simon, no SamnEric. I hid in the thick underbrush, wondering what to do about the rather serious wound on my ribs. I can't wash myself without risking capture, so I just lied there, trying to think. At one point, peering out from my hiding spot, I see a painted face—Bill. But no; this wasn't Bill. It was a savage who had nothing to do with Bill. Finally, as the sunlight starts to fade, I snuck over to the edge of the thicket so I can see what Jack and his group are doing. The smoke is rising and I can smell the pig they are roasting. I'm so hungry. I try to convince myself that they will leave me alone, that everything was an accident and that "they're not as bad as that." It doesn't work. I made my way back to the beach and on the way comes to a clearing in the forest. The adult gives them a little lecture, saying that a group of British boys should have put up a better show than this. I tried to explain that it was good at first, and the officer nods, adding that it was "like the Coral Island," another book about boys stranded on an island. Now that I'm finished running for my life, I have time to think about what's happened. I begins to cry, sobbing for the first time about "the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy."The officer is a little embarrassed and turns away to give the boys time to pull themselves together, letting my eyes rest on the "trim cruiser in the distance." Oh, and that trim cruiser? It's involved in an equally violent and bloody war—so maybe that officer shouldn't be giving anyone any lectures.
Sincerely, Ralph...
Sincerely, Ralph...
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