Lord Of The Flies Story :: essays research papers

The war was over, but not without casualties. Numerous ships, planes and factories had been bombed with regular bombs, and London was exclusively destroyed - by a single atomic bomb. Only derelicts lived in that location now, not knowing of the harmful radiation that surrounded what once was the enceinte capital.Slowly though, things were getting back to normal, shops began opening, and the war started to shift to the back of peoples minds. Life was comely more normal, but the memory of the war was still there, and always would be. Unfortunately, my memories of our clock time on the island would neer shift to the back of my mind - I would never forget what the war meant to me. I might not establish 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 bright red light, but I had lived with people that hardly deserve that title, people that became animals, people that were worse than animals - murderers. And I myself , was one of them.I was slowly getting better, but I never got through and through a night without hearing the chant and Simons furtive screams as we jabbed, attacked and mauled him, without see Piggys fat body flying into the air 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 slight, damp apartment preceding(prenominal) a coin laundry. The greatest pleasure I had in smell was eating 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 scraps of bread before it had even 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 unheeding of us. Many times I wished that I too could be a pigeon. I cherished to lead the simple life that they did, I wanted to forget what had happened, I wanted to escape the plaguing m emories.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, looking at me begging me with their look for more.