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A Female Lord of the Flies Story

Updated on January 8, 2020
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Tamara Wilhite is a technical writer, an industrial engineer, a mother of two, and a published sci-fi and horror author.

The rescuers marched upon the beach, fanning out with blankets, stuffed animals and food packs for the girls they’d come to rescue. The counselors were still prepping on the boat, knowing that physical needs like medical care, food, clean water and feminine hygiene supplies were more important than them, but just barely.

The First Responders lingered over the bodies of several girls, while a larger group was found in shelter with a hoard of supplies. After a count and a few questions, a second group of survivors was sought.

Aside from dehydration of a few other girls found huddled in the canopy in sight of the fire, none of the survivors were particularly suffering physically. All, though, were crying, moaning or otherwise emotionally overwhelmed at the sight of rescue. The smaller group of girls was equally tearful but far more quiet. They didn’t speak at all until the larger group was shuttled to counselors and cared for. They let counselors give them water and snacks but were still barely willing to whisper when the counselors tried to coax them to talk, though they welcomed the shoulders to cry on. None of them dared, though, speak of the dead or why they themselves were somewhat dehydrated until one of the men asked, “Why weren’t those girls, the ones that died, able to drink? You had water casks in that big pile and enough for everyone for a while.”
“They were the Republican club, or their parents donated to Republicans, or something like that,” a brunette said.

“Ally wasn’t,” an Asian girl answered.

“She was a Catholic, a really Catholic Catholic. Said homosexuality was a sin. You can’t tolerate haters like that,” a fake red-head replied.

“And after they were out and things still weren’t peaceful enough, loving enough, they decided to kick us out of the survivors’ healing circle,” the Asian girl said.

“It was really good that you all collected the supplies,” one of the female counselors offered, starting to hand out cleaning wipes for this smaller group of survivors.

The brunette said, “They had a group vote on who should do the work. The disabled – differently abled – didn’t have to. Asthma, ADD, other reasons. The rest of us did the work, that was right. Then they decided to decide who would get the supplies at all.”

One of the men who had returned from wrapping the bodies of the dead in body bags and loading them into the boat said, “You’ve only been here three days. You can die of thirst that fast, but you had supplies.”

“The group that did the most work was the one they decided didn’t get water or food. Doesn’t that make you die faster?” the redhead asked.

The only girl of color added, “I think Maria tried to drink from leaves and make some makeshift something.”

“The all-natural coconut water made her poop so much she died first of thirst,” the faux red-head said. “Maybe she didn’t know how to make all-natural stuff suitable for consumption,” the brunette girl offered.

“Or maybe all-natural isn’t better,” the Asian said.

“That’s blasphemy,” the brunette said.

“You mean wrong,” the girl of color offered. “Blasphemy is only –“

“Same thing,” the brunette said. “It’s wrong to be wrong like that in the worst way.”

“Saying things like that is what got us all kicked out in the first place,” the faux red-head added. Then everyone was arguing.

“You aren’t allowed to say what the group disagrees with.”

“We were voting!”

“You can’t say stuff some offended group doesn’t like!”

“We’re all in the same group!”

“That’s racist, sexist –“

“We’re all girls!”

“It’s still racist, patriarchal, oppressive –“

“That word is French, and that’s racist by itself.”

“My social justice teacher said that was the appropriate all-inclusive insult, so no, it cannot be racist.”

“I won’t tolerate this intolerance!”

“You’re the one who uttered such hate first!”

“You call anything you don’t like hate! I hate it when you do that!”

“Haters gonna hate.”

“You just did it again!”

“I don’t have to put up with your hate. Get out.”

“That’s what the group did to us!”

“Just because you did –“

“ENOUGH!” one of the counselors screamed. The other girls scampered back from the angry middle-aged woman. “Did you all kick out those other girls, the dead ones, because they weren’t loving enough? Don’t you think that it would be an act of love to include them and talk to them? I mean, you needed their work and then you let them die of thirst? How is that love?”

“Don’t tolerate the intolerant!” two of the girls intoned. “It isn’t kind or polite to tolerate the haters,” another girl added. “We didn’t kill them,” the fourth said. “We just didn’t give them water or food or anything.”

Two of the male rescuers were close to tears. “God help us, it is like the female version of Lord of the Flies.”

If you enjoyed this story, consider reading my novel "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell".
If you enjoyed this story, consider reading my novel "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell". | Source

© 2017 Tamara Wilhite


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