World of Wonders

When we see things that aren’t, we miss the wonderful things that are.

Lord of the Flies, William Golding

Jack gave a wild whoop and leapt down to the pale sand. At once the platform was full of noise and excitement, scramblings, screams and laughter. The assembly shredded away and became a discursive and random scatter from the palms to the water and away along the beach, beyond night-sight.

The dispersed figures had come together on the sand and were a dense black mass that revolved. They were chanting something and the little ones that had had enough were staggering away, howling. Ralph raised the conch to his lips and then lowered it.

“The trouble is: Are there ghosts, Piggy? Or beasts?”

“Course there aren’t.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cos things wouldn’t make sense. Houses an’ streets an’ TV. They wouldn’t work.”

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