We read Lord of the Flies in my English 11A class senior year. The teacher gave us each 5 options for a corollary assignment other than writing a paper on the book, and I chose the option of writing a 13th chapter.

Piggy shot up out of bed, cold sweat rolling down his cheeks. He groped for his glasses, found them, and put them on. Without worrying about the darkness, he ran down the main part of the train to the bathroom, where he splashed some water on his face to calm down. He stood up and stared at the mirror.

Piggy hadn’t really died; not really; “it was just some terrible nightmare.” He stunned himself when he spoke aloud, because he didn’t mean to. “It was a dream. You can’t die in dreams. Nobody ain’t ever died in a dream, and I’m still here.” He tried to say this convincingly, but his voice just wobbled and echoed off the bathroom walls.

Piggy was on his way to a boarding school just outside of a tiny English city. His mother and father had died several years earlier, and he was living with his aunt in America when she began seeing weird things and had to go into the hospital. It was the doctors’ idea to send Piggy to the boarding school. They believed that its strict regimen and strong academics would keep Piggy out of any sort of trouble he might cause, and, as they saw it, “get him into shape.” Besides, it was in England, which was where “English boys belong."

Piggy tried to regain his composure so he could go back to sleep. He cleaned his face and used the toilet, then went shakily back to his room.

When he awoke the next day, the train had almost pulled into town. All the passengers gathered their things; and Piggy did, as well. Around noon, when the train finally met with the station, they piled down into the terminal. The first thing on everybody’s mind was, of course, the war. There were no televisions on the train, and radio signals were too difficult to pick up. Although many of them (like Piggy) had only been on for a day, they still realized that that was long enough for anything to happen.

Piggy heard people letting out gasps and moans as they dispersed about the station, picking up newspapers and staring at television screens. He didn’t particularly like them doing that; the war wasn’t all that important. Besides, it was being fought over the Atlantic Ocean, and his plane was going over the Pacific. He didn’t have to worry about how the war might affect this trip. He didn’t have to worry that what happened in the dream might really happen.

Piggy moved to a nearby spot to contemplate where he needed to go next. He knew somewhat; that he had to find his way the airport. He stopped to clean his glasses, and looked up at the officer who seemed to have magically appeared before him. “Where can I find the airport, sir?”

“Huh?” The officer wasn’t quite sure where the voice was coming from, until he turned around and saw Piggy staring up at him.

“Sir, where can I find the airport?”

“Oh? Ah, well son, if you get on the two-o’clock bus, it will take you straight there. Be sure you’ve the right amount of change, though, so don’t get bumped off half-way there. You takin’ a nice vacation?”

“No. Thanks a lot, sir.” Piggy turned abruptly and walked away. He knew it was disrespectful, but he didn’t want to explain his situation. Not now, not with the dream tormenting him. He still couldn’t figure it out. Why would anyone want to kill him? “I never did anyone no harm, never,” he said aloud, and surprised himself again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Later, at the airport, Piggy met a few of the other boys who would be flying over with him. Ralph. Simon. Sam. Jack. The names were familiar, but he couldn’t recall where he had heard them. Maybe it had something to do with that awful dream, Piggy thought, inwardly this time.

It was not long after the plane had taken off that the boys could sense something was wrong. If the pilots had known that they were going to crash, they could have radioed back to the base, and there might have been some hope of rescue. But once Piggy’s memory returned, he didn’t have time to tell them.