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- Уильям Голдинг
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"
We
could
be
sort
of
...
.
"
Simon
became
inarticulate
in
his
effort
to
express
mankind
's
essential
illness
.
Inspiration
came
to
him
.
"
What
's
the
dirtiest
thing
there
is
?
"
As
an
answer
Jack
dropped
into
the
uncomprehending
silence
that
followed
it
the
one
crude
expressive
syllable
.
Release
was
immense
.
Those
littluns
who
had
climbed
back
on
the
twister
fell
off
again
and
did
not
mind
.
The
hunters
were
screaming
with
delight
.
Simon
's
effort
fell
about
him
in
ruins
;
the
laughter
beat
him
cruelly
and
he
shrank
away
defenseless
to
his
seat
.
At
last
the
assembly
was
silent
again
.
Someone
spoke
out
of
turn
.
"
Maybe
he
means
it
's
some
sort
of
ghost
.
"
Ralph
lifted
the
conch
and
peered
into
the
gloom
.
The
lightest
thing
was
the
pale
beach
.
Surely
the
littluns
were
nearer
?
Yes
--
there
was
no
doubt
about
it
,
they
were
huddled
into
a
tight
knot
of
bodies
in
the
central
grass
.
A
flurry
of
wind
made
the
palms
talk
and
the
noise
seemed
very
loud
now
that
darkness
and
silence
made
it
so
noticeable
.
Two
grey
trunks
rubbed
each
other
with
an
evil
speaking
that
no
one
had
noticed
by
day
.
Piggy
took
the
conch
out
of
his
hands
.
His
voice
was
indignant
.
"
I
do
n't
believe
in
no
ghosts
--
ever
!
"
