Who Is The Epilogue To William Golding's Lord Of The Flies

Ralph placed his grocery items on the counter carefully, making sure the eggs were put down gently, so that they didn’t crack. He was supposed to be hurrying, as his parents had invited him over for dinner, and his father had always lectured him on the importance of punctuality. He just wasn’t in the mood to spend Saturday evening with his parents, and quite frankly he wasn’t sure they wanted to either.

The monthly dinners had become routine ever since Ralph’s breakdown about fifteen years back, which resulted in a year of therapy, and his parents becoming much more concerned about his well-being. They knew of what had transpired on the island, but hadn’t judged exactly how it affected Ralph very accurately. A few years back, Ralph had moved on enough to be able to wonder if it was

As a matter of fact, this was completely true.

Jack hadn't been able to sleep properly for the past twenty years. Some days were better than others, but today was not one of those days.

He felt restless in the night, sort of like he had better things to do while everyone else slept. Taking a walk tended to calm him down, but he didn't really want to go to sleep. Being tired in the morning was a better alternative to the dreams, which were full of odd flashes of things that were familiar, but that he didn't quite seem to remember clearly in the morning. He knew they had something to do with that island, from what feels like a lifetime ago.

He suspected that most of what occurred had been his fault, but it was so easy to blame all of them, and the fact that they were kids, and so many other things that he couldn’t have stopped himself. The whole thing was a mess, and was there anything the British were better at than ignoring their messes?

Jack smiled to himself, thoughts of the island forgotten, if just for a