Lord Of The Flies Story :: essays research papers

The struggle was over, further not without casualties. numerous ships, planes and factories had been bombed with regular bombs, and capital of the United Kingdom was totally destroyed - by a ace atomic bomb. Only derelicts lived there now, not knowing of the harmful radiation sickness that surrounded what once was the great capital.Slowly though, things were setting buttocks to normal, shops began opening, and the war started to sacking to the back of commonwealths minds. Life was becoming more normal, but the memory of the war was still there, and always would be. Unfortunately, my memories of our time on the island would never shift to the back of my mind - I would never forget what the war meant to me. I exponent not have been killed, though I wish I had been, I might not have lost my home or seen London go up a huge mushroom cloud of knowing red light, but I had lived with people that hardly deserve that title, people that became animals, people that were worse than ani mals - murderers. And I myself, was one of them.I was slowly getting better, but I never got through a night without hearing the carol and Simons furtive screams as we jabbed, attacked and mauled him, without seeing Piggys fat body flying into the airmanship and then crashing down on the rocks. I had never recovered from those experiences and at no time had a job. I live in a small, damp apartment above a coin laundry. The greatest joyfulness I had in life was feeding the pigeons in the park. I would get what stale bread I could from the bakery to feed the birds. They would rush at me when they saw me and fight for the small put away of bread before it had still hit the ground. They were animals, but not like Jack and the others, they were kind animals, they never hurt anyone - they went about their lives regardless of us. Many times I wished that I too could be a pigeon. I wanted to lead the simplistic life that they did, I wanted to forget what had happened, I wanted to new s leak the plaguing memories.It was Tuesday morning and I was feeding pigeons in the park. They were fighting for the pathetic scraps of stale bread I threw on the ground as usual, aspect at me begging me with their eyes for more.