Slipping from Reality

I'm not so sure there isn't a beast anymore. Last night Samneric (the twins) came down from their watch on the fire. Ralph called an assembly right away, and we heard what they had to say. They were quite adamant that they'd seen the beast. They said it was huge, with great dark wings and glittering eyes, and teeth and claws. I'm a little skeptical-- wings?-- but they seemed so sure, and one of them had a great scratch on his face. Jack immediately decided to hunt it, and I'm ashamed to say I kind of agree with him. I don't know if a battle with this sort of beast could end well for us, though. We're armed with wooden spears-- wooden!-- and the beast (if there is a beast) knows this island much better than we do. Ralph's still angry about the fire-- and I am too, though this beast thing has got the island all stirred up. Jack and Ralph had another row, about lighting the fire or hunting the beast, but Ralph won again. I'm not sure if I can take this anymore. I get so anxious when they fight, and this time I lost my breath! My auntie always said to take deep breaths, because of my asthma, but at times like these it's hard to remember to. They've gone now-- Jack and Ralph and the others. They've gone to light the fire like Ralph said, and they're going to hunt the beast afterwards. I'm staying on the beach with the littleuns. They need someone to watch them, see.
     Simon came down from the mountain a little while ago. He said the group'll be back in the morning. He said they were walking through the forest and a found a huge pig! Apparently Ralph cut it, right across the nose, and it wounded Jack in the arm. Simon said Ralph was really proud he cut it, and now I'm worried. What if Ralph forgets about the fire? What if he joins Jack's group? I guess I'll find out the truth in the morning. Simon looked a little perturbed about something, but he wouldn't tell me anything else. He's gone to sleep now.
     I wonder if I'm slipping. Slipping from reality, slipping into Jack's mold. His hunters paint their faces now, you know. Like they're ashamed of who they are, like all they want to do is dress up like the Indians we learned about in school. Reading over what I've written, I've realized I didn't really think there ever was a beast, in the beginning. But now-- I'm not so sure. I guess Ralph'll tell me for sure tomorrow morning. The beast always seems so unbelievable during the daylight. Although-- it's night now. I can hear the rustling of branches, the stirring of the sand. I hear the littleuns whimpering from time to time. I can't sleep. See, I'm not so sure anymore that they're wrong to be scared.