Lord of the Flies wasn’t critically praised at first, you know…


I want to see an extremely surreal take on a very commonplace daily activity with a lesson in morality threaded throughout. Must include one purple pirate and a handful of feathers.

Writers note: Surprise! I went full surrealism. I promise I am not insane.

As the world begins, so does it end. A daily loop, an infinite chorus of reverence for the grind of life. I take one sheet in my hand and wrap it around the posts of my bed, placing both hands tightly on the fabric as I pull it down, over the country of where I sleep.

Indeed, no man is an island — and neither is a fish an ocean. One must always find a comfortable place to sleep, and one must always dream carefully as we can never be sure what is on the other side. I grab a fresh chicken, plucking feathers from the animal’s plump body. Soon, a few turn into a handful and I am able to stuff my pillow, a quick one-two slap ensuring that the chicken’s bounty is completely spread throughout my sleeping quarters. I do everything with sublime care, as my mother’s dog (Oh, Puddles, you were a wonderful creature!) once told me a story of how a single slip-up might cause your untimely demise.

“Chaos,” he muttered, “will ultimately lead to the downfall of all things if you do not take proper care in keeping them in line.” I nodded then, comprehending everything, though it was always hard to understand him as barking is a primitive sort of thing. Ironic, when you think about it. Barking is just unorganized sound which is indeed chaos — unlike the beautiful melody of human voice, which is in-tune when you properly test your instrument. I pulled a comforter over the sheets, the fluffy cotton reminding me of Puddles’ hair. That dog was an angel. A shame he had to be put down after chewing on the purple pirate’s peg leg — his one mistake. I always that that sea-dweller had it coming, but alas — chaos. It wasn’t organized, so it had to be reshaped to something better. I think his urn is sitting in my chamber somewhere? Ah! There it is. Right where I left it.

The sun has come up and I think it is a perfect time for a nap, but what a waste it is when you consider the day had just begun and here I am sleeping it away. That seems like quite an affront to the nature of the universe. Perhaps I am part of chaos? Am I insulting organization? I’d hope not, or else I would find myself devoured by my dreams and probably hunted by Beelzebub. That would be a true shame! I’m not sure what I would do.

I won’t wake up tomorrow though, it’s impossible as I forgot to put the blanket on top of the comforter, so now everything is out of order and I don’t really exist anymore. How could I? If there was no organization, I would just be my scrambled thoughts and nothing else.

One thought on “Lord of the Flies wasn’t critically praised at first, you know…

  1. Nice work (especially with a slightly difficult prompt)! That last paragraph ties it all in really well.

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