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This head is for the beast. It's a gift.
Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!
The Shell and the Glasses
They didn't come for the conch. They came for something else.
You all right, Piggy?
The head remained there, dim-eyed, grinning faintly, blood blackening between the teeth. All at once they were running away, as fast as they could, through the forest toward the open beach.
Only the beast lay still, a few yards from the sea. Even in the rain they could see how small a beast it was; and already its blood was staining the sand.
The chief led then, trotting steadily, exulting in his achievement. Jack was a chief now in truth; and he made stabbing motions with his spear. From his left hand dangled Piggy's broken glasses.
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