Not too long ago I made a decision to try and work through all the classical literature you're supposed to read in high school and college, which I never have. It's not that I've been un-exposed to classical literature, just found reading it quite a bore. I've watched a lot of film adaptations of stories; Frankenstein, All Quiet On the Western Front, various Shakespeare and some Dickens. Reading these works is another matter entirely.
On a whim I made my decision and have made it through some of the first chapters of Lord of the Flies. Also on my nightstand is Animal Farm, but I've not had the courage to being that just yet. Oddly enough both of these books are creepy. Simply reading the first few paragraphs of LOTF I was overwhelmed by the underlying sense of something sinister coming to get me. I was afraid of any new things introduced in the book, of the finger-like shadows of palms, of the birdcalls. I believed I was there with the boys, feeling the heat of the jungle island drip off my skin, the temporary relief of the breezes that blew in off the water. Ralph positively terrifies me. He's sinister, and I feel, slowly going crazy. Piggy will die first or be the last to die. I'm not exactly looking forward to delving back into the book but I want to know why they are all there on the island, how they will find food (and kill their food), and if Ralph is going to murder everyone or something equally as strange. So I plod on, suspicious of the crackling of branches beneath my literary feet, and wonder if I'm going to make it till the end.