Chapter Text
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
As all fanfic writers do, I had a vision. The first time I saw Lord of the Flies (the 1963 and 1990 film), | actually didn't enjoy it.I believe the reasoning behind it is I was literally like eight years old and traumatized watching that. But recently the 2026 BBC show came out and my mind was blown. So, my vision came to me in the middle of the night, but I hesitated writing it out because I thought a lot fanfic would be weird. Until, one day I stumbled across another fanfic and it convinced and inspired me. The fic is: Lord of the Flies, Our Love Is God by suitelifeofsavannah on wattpad. Her writing is phenomenal and I highly recommend you guys go check it out.
I also have a tiktok account: moonlightriver605
I post really shitty edits (i am NOT an editor) on there, but it's fun always fun to check out because it's like being in on an inside joke
Disclaimers!
- I don't own Lord of the Flies or any of the characters or the story, all credit goes to Mr. Goulding.
- If you can't tell, I am obviously not British but instead a southern American. As for the characters in the story, they are all British. I tried to keep that part in so l apologize profoundly for two things. One: that my American slips throughout the story. Two: my embarrassing and probably inaccurate use of British slang. You're going to see "bloody" and "mate" about 500 times and for that I'm so sorry you're having to deal with my lame attempt at imitating British culture.
- As most of you know, the characters in Lord of the Flies are supposed to represent humanity. The good, but majority the bad. The girls, including the main OC (Eleanor Thorne), will continue to represent that. Please don't expect her character to be saint-like by any means because while l adore her, she does annoy me at times and I literally wrote her.
- The biguns in this story will be aged up because I physically cannot find myself writing about twelve year olds unless I was twelve, especially with the mature themes I've added. I do think the plot points would be applicable to the original story if it included girls, but again I'm not comfortable with that. With the characters being aged up, the story will be slightly askew from the original, but will continue to follow the descent into savagery, being even more intense if I do say so myself.
- That leads me to my final warning. The story will get dark, especially in the second act. Violence, gore, character deaths, assault, suicide, eating disorders, bullying, torture, substance usage, trauma, sexual harassment, ptsd, etc... if any of those trigger you, please don't force yourself to read this.
Hopefully I didn't scare you off lol, here's the story nonetheless!
Based off the 2026 show, loosely based off the 1963 film, 1990 film, and the book.
"Maybe there is a beast... maybe it's only us."
✩𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭✩
I've Got A Lovely Bunch Of Coconuts- Danny Kaye, The Harmonaires
Everybody Loves Somebody- Dean Martin
Just A Girl- Florence + The Machine
all-american bitch- Olivia Rodrigo
The Man- Taylor Swift
I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire- The Ink Spots
Softcore- The Neighbourhood
500 Miles- Peter, Paul and Mary
Pretty When You Cry- Lana Del Rey
You're On Your Own, Kid- Taylor Swift
this is me trying- Taylor Swift
Beaches- beabadoobee
Die Your Daughter- Susannah Joffe
Futile Devices- Sufjan Stevens
Moon River - Audrey Hepburn
We'll Meet Again- Vera Lynn
Dark Paradise- Lana Del Rey
brutal- Olivia Rodrigo
My Love Mine All Mine- Mitski
Master of None- Beach House
Bigmouth Strikes Again - The Smiths
bad idea!- girl in red
the perfect pair- beabadoobee
Laura Palmer's Theme - Angelo Badalamenti
Drag Path- Twenty One Pilots
boarding school- Lana del Rey
In My Room (acoustic) - Julia Wolf
Baby Mine - From "Dumbo", Betty Noyes
seven- Taylor Swift
Killer- Phoebe Bridgers
Headlock- Imogen Heap
All I Need- Radiohead
Dove (doll ver. slowed down. instrumental) - miztery
Put Me In A Movie- bulcadoshow
Toto Brings News / Over the Rainbow- Judy Garland
Highschool Lover- Air
Step On Me- The Cardigans
Little Dark Age- MGMT
Pumped Up Kicks- Foster The People
Army Dreamers - Kate Bush
No Surprises- Radiohead
I Know It's Over- Jeff Buckley
I Know The End- Phoebe Bridgers
Franklin House- Brenn!
The Night We Met (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)- Lord Huron, Phoebe Bridgers
the way things go- beabadoobee
░▒▓▆▅▃▂♬♪♫✩♫♪♩♬▂▃▅▆▓▒░
"I turned around, the was nothing there
Yeah, I guess the end is here"
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬
Theodore Thorne’s grip had tightened on his gun. He clutched the weapon to his chest as though his life depended on it. Because it did. The battlefield was a place of torture yet such a delight. To get away with horrendous acts any other spectator would be disturbed to witness. No other soldier on the battlefield would show him any pity just as he wouldn’t give it to them. His slender body wriggled through the rough terrain. Using no limbs didn’t make him graceful the way a snake slithers, but rather like a dying spider. His helmet weighed down on his head, warning him to stay where he’s at. The warning goes unnoticed by the soldier as he continues to writhe his way through the dirt.
The bullet goes off.
The pop and the crack of his skull are heard together, the German who shot him flinching at the sound. Theodore’s body fell limp, the grip on his gun finally loosening.
The man would be irrelevant to anyone else but myself and my family because that man was my uncle. He had died at seventeen in the first world war, never knowing Britain would find its way to involve itself into another.
War was an unpleasant subject matter to anyone except for politicians. If it weren’t for war I wouldn’t be waiting in this line to get shipped off like a cargo package. How I, a fifteen year old girl, managed to get caught up in Britain’s conflict, I wasn’t sure. After all, it’s only politics, what does that have to do with me? Of course, I’d much rather be the king needed to be protected rather than the pawn in the game of chess.
The airport was alive although it seemed as though everyone inside it was dead. Nobody would be delighted when having to catch a flight before the sun greets you. But those missed hours of sleep were not what those by my side were mourning. Saying farewell to your home country and setting off to a new place without any family isn’t an ideal form of rescue. I’d prefer to continue cramming in the air raid shelters with my friends from school.
It was a nice school I went to. An all girls Catholic boarding school. I didn’t have to board there with my parents being relatively close to the school, but it was easier for me to do so. When it was announced our area had an opportunity for evacuation, my school and almost all the nearby schools took it. If I had arrived on time, I would’ve seen the all-boys schools already enter the plane. All the girls in front of me had already boarded, leaving me last in line. I had my mother to thank for that, her and the arguments with me that seemingly never stopped.
Arriving at the door of the plane, my maths teacher welcomes me with her warm smile. Mrs. Meeks was a middle aged woman with glasses she always lost on top of her head and when she would frantically look around for them, my peers and I would simply snigger at the woman. “Miss Thorne,” she greets me, tilting her head down in a polite nod. I force a tight lipped smile back, brushing past her and onto the plane.
The plane was the largest plane I had ever been on. An uncommon double deckered plane. They were a newer invention and made me a bit queasy at the thought. The country wanted all the British kids out as quickly as possible and it showed. Every seat was filled with a child except for some in the front for teachers who were here to accompany the smaller children.
I recognized a face here and there, my school obviously being the prominent one in the sea of girls. The further back I get, the older the girls are. I continue walking down the aisle while trying to find an open seat, waving at friends as I passed by. Halfway down, a gentle hand on my shoulder put a hold on my traveling.
“Miss Thorne, I apologize, but there seems to be an error when we were booking the flight,” Mrs. Meeks explains when I turn to face her.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. For a moment, a small slither of hope is presented to me. The possibility of not being able to ride the plane was slim, but if I didn’t have to, then I wouldn’t have to leave the country. “What?” I glance back at two of my friends who had immersed themselves in our conversation.
Louise sat by the aisle, her ears perking up at the issue. She was a smaller girl, but certainly had a mouth. Her parents were from Paris, but moved to the United Kingdom to expand their company. It had happened to Louise when she was just two, so she had always considered herself a brit. She was fifteen, a younger one in the grade with a summer birthday. Hair like dark chocolate and eyes like coffee beans. Freckles kissed her face when she showed them the sun, but her skin would remain light and smooth. She was one of my closest friends along with Charlotte who sat at the window.
Charlotte was a perky girl, but one that easily folded. Sometimes we would call her “dove”, the symbol of peace, because she was always doing whatever pleased others. The peacekeeper of our friends. Her hair was dirty blonde, always curled even though it was naturally pin straight. She had faint smile lines at the corner of her mouth. Her canines were unnaturally long as a vampire’s teeth would be. It wasn’t a flaw, but oddly enough something that enhanced her appearance.
“We accidentally booked one of the seats on the upper deck, that’s going to be your seat for the flight,” Mrs. Meeks says calmly. My slither of hope had been swept up from underneath me, making me land right on my arse. Charlotte and Louise look at each other to confirm they’re hearing the same thing, then back to Mrs. Meeks and I as we continue our conversation.
The inconvenience irked me, so I gaped at Mrs. Meeks. “The upper deck?” I exclaim. “But all my friends are down here!” I was sure I sounded like a whiny child, but the mistake was an unprofessional one to make. I had every right to be upset!
“I understand that Miss Thorn, but the bottom deck is full,” Mrs. Meeks sighs.
“The upper deck,” Louise butts in, wiggling her eyebrows. “I think that's where all the boys are sitting.”
“Oh yes! I saw them as we were boarding the plane!” Charlotte giggles and squeals.
A look of horror creeps up on my face. Teenage boys have to be a teenage girl’s worst nightmare. It was bad enough I didn’t get to sit with my friends, but putting me with hormonal brutes was a cruel and unusual punishment. “You cannot be serious!” I plea with Mrs. Meeks.
“I’m afraid I am. But those boys are coming from good schools, they’re going to be as civilized as a boy you can find,” Mrs. Meeks tries to offer me some words of encouragement.
“Fucking ridiculous,” I mumble under my breath.
“Miss Thorne, please watch your language,” Mrs Meeks scolds me although she doesn’t seem angry at all. Rather tired and strained. “What would your mother say?”
“She would probably say,” I clear my throat before mocking my mother in a nasally tone. “Eleanor Thorne, you brat! I ought to wash your mouth out with soap!”
This results in giggles from Louise and Charlotte, even a soft amused smile from Mrs. Meeks.
“That’s enough Miss Thorne, just get to your seat now,” Mrs. Meeks presses her hand against my back, giving me a slight push.
I groan, but do so reluctantly.
“Bye Ella!” Louise and Charlotte sing in sync as they wave. It’s partly mocking and partly a casual farewell. I wave back before walking over to the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, it felt as if I had entered an entirely different dimension. For a minute I question if I had stepped onto a plane or into a circus tent. A variety of boys, ranging from six to seventeen cause the plane to explode with noise. I take a deep breath, bracing myself before trying to find an empty seat in this tornado.
The little boys don’t notice me at all, too caught up talking to their new friends. Words come out of the gaps in between their teeth, barely intelligible. They were tiny, yawning and not really aware of what was happening. The preteen boys do take note of me. Whispering to their friends. Joking about me being in the wrong section. A cocky one winks at me, but I decide not to provide them with the reaction they want. They were too young to get under my skin.
But then there are the oldest boys, the ones in my age range. They spot me the quickest, heads turning in confusion. I try not to make eye contact with any of them, but their whispers aren’t quiet. Whispers quickly turn into whistles. My presence becomes some sort of humorous game to them, their laughter deep and loud.
An empty seat, even better, and empty row is found at the back of the plane. I slide into it as quickly as I can, giving me some covering from the rest of the spectators. A row to myself is spacious, practically first class. Or that’s what I try to convince myself of.
If only my upgrade stayed like that because quickly after I settle in, a boy sits beside me. He’s about average height, but broad. His hair was an ash blonde, styled so it swooped to the side. He looked almost expressionless, but carried a broodiness with him. His eyes were narrow like he was squinting at something. They become even darker as he struggles to adjust the headboard of his seat.
Apparently I can’t hide the displeasure on my face because he snaps his head towards me. “Look. I’m not happy to be sitting beside you either. I wanted to sit next to my friends,” he tells me. His voice is low, not timidly just quiet.
“Okay,” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to act like his words didn’t damage my ego. “I wanted to sit with my friends too.”
“Then we’re in the same boat,” he says with a fake smile before fiddling with the fan above his head.
How long was this plane ride supposed to be? Twenty-four hours. Now forty-eight with this boy sitting next to me! The idea that maybe I’d have someone to talk to on the plane to keep me occupied was denied the second he sat down beside me. Not that I would want to speak with someone who’s first words exchanged with me were that he didn’t want to be next to me.
My passenger “buddy” brings his tray down, resting his head on his arms trying to catch up on sleep. His sleepiness bores me so I revert to watching the take off for entertainment.
I watch as the ground doesn’t exactly escape my vision, but rather shrinks. I decide to block out the other conversations and think about the clouds instead.
Clouds are a funny thing really. They have so much to offer. Sometimes they are things that create images. Like a bunny or a frog. Other times they look as if God had taken a paint brush and stroked the blue sky with his streak of white. They’re not always beautiful, though. They can cause destruction, lightning and thunder. But also feed the flowers so they can sprout from the dirt.
I always thought heaven would be in the clouds.
“You on a date, Roger?” a boy asks, making my eyes peel away from the window. A boy with cold icy eyes and golden hair falling into curls peeks over his seat from in front of us. His face was like an almond and his lips were turned upright with a smile. He was tall, very tall, except not muscular. Not too skinny, but slim.
“I don’t think you even know what a date is,” the boy, Roger, glares at his friend. It clicks that they go to the same school when I observe their matching uniforms. White long sleeves with a grey vest.
“I’ve been on plenty of dates thank you very much,” the blonde snarls.
Someone pops up from the seat next to the blonde, peering over his seat just as his partner did. My face erases every sign of annoyance as I look at the boy. He was a brunette, the darkest shade of brown possible. His hair was combed back like his mother had done it, but fallen into loose waves with horseplaying. His eyes were a deep blue, almost gray like the depths of the sea. His eyes would have not only hypnotized me but also terrified me if it weren’t for his bright smile. His cheeks made his eyes squint the slightest and made his nose subtly scrunch up.
He looked like an angel.
Right up until the moment he spoke.
“Rog! I knew it was you!” he grins and for the first time Roger smiles. “Guess what? Bill just blew up the bathroom and the smell… It's repulsive! I almost asked the flight attendant for one of those paper bags, you know? The ones you vomit in!” I grimace, brows furrowing in disgust. Even if his story was disgusting, it hooked me. He spoke with such an entertaining enthusiasm, using his hands as he talked.
“So I asked him what he had for breakfast and you know what he said? He said-” the boy continues to laugh, glancing at my way once. Then twice. He pauses, his laugh falling short and his smile fading. I stare up at him, eyes flickering over to the window after holding eye contact a second too long.
“Well?” the boy next to him causes him to look away from me and over to his seat partner.
“Beans! Straight from the can!” the boy finishes, toppling over with laughter to the point he has to crawl back to his seat.
“For breakfast?” the blonde scoffs in disbelief.
“That’s disgusting!” Roger laughs.
Recovering from his laughing fit, the brunette glances back to me. “Hey,” he lifts a hand up. It was what I liked to call the “guy wave.” A quick flick of the wrist with their palm facing towards you.
“Hi,” I nod back, keeping my hands in my lap.
“Uh, I don’t mean to come off rude or anything, but are you supposed to be up here?” the brunette sits up straighter, getting a better look at me.
“They booked me the wrong seat,” I answer, fixing my posture likewise. Every person besides me was staring at me and it was making me squirm. I adored attention when it was for a good reason, but in this situation I wanted it diverted elsewhere.
The blonde next to him tuts quietly. “Are you sure?”
His question is so dense it makes me recoil. I cock my head forward, trying to read if he’s genuinely brainless or just pulling my leg. “Yes, I’m sure?”
“So, you’re not just up here so you can sit next to Roger?” the blonde continues, smirking as he finishes his pun. His smug expression makes me clench my jaw. Even as I try to relax, it stays locked in place.
“No judgement, we get why,” the brunette adds, nudging the blonde with his elbow. “Roger is a catch!” Roger reaches out to swing at his friend, but he dodges his hit with a laugh. “Sorry! Calm down, would you?”
“Shut up, would you?” Roger narrows his eyes before leaning back.
The laughing brunette ignores him, turning back around so he’s facing the correct way. The blonde continues to peer over at us, eyes flickering between us two.
“So, would you go on a second date?” he jokes, locking eyes with me.
“I would!” the other boy shouts. I can’t see his face, but I can tell by his voice that he’s still laughing.
“Jack,” Roger warns, voice husky.
Jack. He was the blonde.
Jack shrugs before turning around. Roger looks over at me with a mean stare as if I caused all his problems.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he responds passive aggressively before turning away.
Seventy-two more hours to go.
A couple hours in, Roger pulls out a book. It was smart, I was getting bored of my own thoughts and had no one to talk to. Only, I didn’t like reading. Still, I should’ve brought a magazine or two to keep me occupied on the flight.
“What’re you reading?” I ask. He looks up from his book as I had just asked if he was a human or a dog. He holds the book up too quick for me to read the title then continues reading. I shift in my seat. “Is it any good?”
“Woman! Would you stop bothering me?” he groans, slumping in his chair.
I cock my head forward at his attitude towards me. I let my frustration with the boy get the best of me. “First of all, my name isn’t ‘woman’” I say “woman” in a lower voice to mock him. “It’s Eleanor-”
“Don’t care!” He doesn’t even glance up at me.
Whatever. I lean against the plane wall, biting my tongue out of anger. When a pair of eyes peek at me through the crack of the seats, my heart drops in my chest. The boy in front of me grins at me. The brunette. He holds his hand up, moving it forward while making a whizzing noise. Then, his hand plummets and he makes a crashing sound from the deep part of his throat.
I send him a sarcastic smile in response before turning away and looking out the window. I look out for exactly forty-seven seconds before a hand reaches out, shutting the window close. I turn back to Roger with a bewildered expression, but he’s already leaning back in his chair. I reopen the window only for him to lunge back at it, shutting it close once more.
“Close the window, I’m trying to sleep.” His voice is husky as he leans back into his chair.
“No you’re not,” I turn my entire body to face him. “You were just reading!”
“Yeah, were,” he shuts his eyes.
“He’ll sleep rather quickly if you sing him a lullaby,” a boy across the aisle from us snickers. The brunette in front of me perks up to this, looking at Roger then at the boys across from him.
“A lullaby you say? How about we sing his favorite one?”
Roger’s eyes flutter open, immediately turning into a glare at the boy in front of me. “Don’t-” he begins, but it’s too late as the brunette opens his mouth with a grin before belting out.
“Down at an English fair, one evening I was there
When I heard a showman shouting underneath the flair”
Soon, many voices join in. Half of the boys on the plane sing in sync.
“I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts
There they are, all standing in a row
Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head
Give them a twist a flick of the wrist
That's what the showman said
I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts
Every ball you throw will make me rich
There stands my wife, the idol of me life
Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch”
Even Roger’s scowl begins to fade away into a small smile. He sings quietly under his breath, harmonizing with the rest of the plane.
Roll a bowl, a ball, a penny, a pitch
Roll a bowl, a ball, a penny, a pitch
Roll a bowl, a ball, roll a bowl, a ball
Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pit”
They finish their song, whooping and applauding for themselves.
“What the hell was that?” I turn to Roger. I didn’t care if he didn’t want to speak to me, I felt as if I was losing my mind.
“A song,” he answers dryly. I open my mouth to question it more, but don’t feel like getting more curt responses. I look over at the brunette who had still been standing up, so I wave at him.
“Like our song?” he rests his forearm against his headrest, fully facing me.
“Um sure,” my response is delayed, causing him to raise an eyebrow.
“Okay then I’ll sing you and Roger a lovely song for your date,” he declares whilst clearing his throat. “Everybody loves some-”
Without thinking, I lunge forward, covering his mouth with my hands. I instantly regretted it once I saw his eyes widen from the surprise of my action. His eyes relax, returning to the shape they’re normally in when he smiles. I quickly sit back down, pulling my hand back when I feel his teeth graze my skin as he chuckles.
“Sorry, sorry,” I ramble.
“What, you don’t like singing?” he rests his jaw on his hand.
“I don’t mind it, but I don’t abuse it like I’m in a bloody musical,” I push my hair over my shoulder. “I mean, what was that? It was absurd.”
“We’re all in a choir. Well, not all but the majority of the people back here,” he explains.
“Oh,” I look around. None of them truly struck me as the choir type, but it did make sense with the singing. It wasn’t terrible, it was actually very in tune, but obnoxious. “Figures.” The boy flashes me one more smile before returning to his seat.
The singing must’ve worn the back out, because everyone had fallen into a quiet state. I check Roger. He’s given up on his slumber and gone back to reading. I reopen the window and stare out into the sea, soaking up every second of the silent harmony.
Sometime in between the window reminiscing, I must’ve fallen asleep. I only realize this when I begin to stir awake. Devilish giggles are heard above and beside me and for a minute I forget where I am. That’s what you do in that stage between sleep and awake. You can’t seem to think straight.
“Is she waking up?”
“Yes!”
“Now! Do it!”
I return back to a state of full consciousness when I feel a sharp sting from my scalp that travels down to my shoulders and chest. I gasp as I jolt in my seat. I only process what happens when I see Roger, Jack, and the brunette holding a cup. I look down at my lap which is now soaked with a couple pebbles of ice melting there.
“Bloody hell is your problem?” I finally snap. They continue to cackle with laughter, my reaction only feeding them more.
“Sorry miss, it was Roger’s idea,” the brunette gasps in between his laughter.
“Maurice, don’t lie,” Roger leans back in his chair, rather pleased with their prank.
I glare at all of them. I didn’t care who’s idea it was or who had done it. I stand up from my chair, getting ready to go to the loo in any attempt to dry off. They call out a couple things to me but I don’t want to listen. The steam coming out of my ears was blocking out all noise.
Arriving in the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t soaking like I thought I was, but the water was visible. I’d probably be cold if I weren’t so angry right now. Civilized is what Mrs. Meeks had called these boys. They weren’t acting very civilized if you asked me.
I take a deep breath as I lean over the sink. I couldn’t let them get to me. I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! It was just water after all. But how those three ticked me off!
The plane jolts, making me stumble backwards. I steady myself by placing a hand on the wall. I take it as a false alarm until it happens again. I dry myself off quickly with towels, deciding I needed to return back to my seat faster than I had left.
When I return, Roger is buckling up with the sign flashing above him. I squeeze past him into my seat before doing the same.
“Probably turbulence, that’s what my father says,” I overhear Jack tell the brunette. Maurice if I heard correctly. “Nothing to worry about, just a patch of rough air.”
Even if he wasn’t addressing me directly, I try to let the blonde’s words be of some reassurance to me. But with every shake, the pit in my gut grew larger.
I couldn’t shake this horrible feeling off.
Things only continue to escalate. It happened over time, yet so quickly. An announcement from the pilot. The air masks dropping. Lights going out.
Children aren’t stupid, they’re human after all. Every human has a natural instinct. A sixth sense for danger.
Everyone on this flight realized we’re in danger. It wasn’t turbulence.
The plane was plummeting.
People are screaming, they’re screaming as if we’re going to die. We probably were! How could we survive a plane crash? If the plane doesn’t explode, then we land in the sea and drown. A fate of being eaten by sharks.
I should probably be screaming or crying, but it seemed as if my body couldn’t quite process what was happening. I was frozen in my seat. I felt numb, as if life wasn’t real. My body had shut down, my reaction time slow, my hearing ability gone.
Thud!