Gone
Found Poem
from William Golding’s Lord of the Flies
Pages: 56 - 185
Hope
was not necessary and therefore forgotten.
The
sounds of the bright fantastic birds.
The
three littluns paused in their game and looked up.
D’you think we’re safe down here?
Just a feeling. But you can feel as if you’re not hunting, but –
Being
hunted.
They
talk and scream,
The
littluns. Even some of the others.
As if –
As if
it wasn’t a good island.
Dark figures drew themselves out of the wreckage.
His
voice was loud and savage, and struck them into silence,
His
laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling
His
face was empty of expression,
Blood
was dry round his mouth and chin.
The
world, that understandable and lawful world,
was slipping away.
A thin
wail out of the darkness chilled them.
Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her
blood.
Set
them grabbing for each other.
He fell
down and lost consciousness.
He’s
gone.
