This is something I wrote my senior year that I like :P Includes my first draft level spelling and grammar errors... I don't have the final version anymore and don't want to take the time to fix it up for a blog, haha.
This alternate ending starts as it says, after he meets Julia near the very end of the book. I was doing my best to capture and continue George Orwell's writing style and tone. If anyone decides to read this, tell em what ya think :D
Winston walked down the sidewalk after his encounter with Julia feeling apathetic. A vague hope of reconnection had gripped him before, but their meeting meant nothing. They were empty shells, she had become that woman with the dark hair, who he had despised. A member of the Junior Anti-Sex League. How could he have ever loved her, she was his enemy, he had betrayed her after all. It must not have been important. So Winston swept his mind of her. He continued along the sidewalk among the other people, in their dingy clothing and filth. A man dropped paper in front of him. It was old but he felt he should become up to date with what had been happening outside all this time. However worthless it may be, it would be something to read when he got to the diner.
“Victory” the telescreen proclaimed, “Vast strategic maneuver– perfect coordination!” Winston sighed, and took a sip of Victory gin he had ordered from the waitress. A crowd was growing around the large telescreen. Winston felt inclined to stand up and join the cheering, but he remained there rolling his glass about its base. He had waited for the announcement from the front all day, but now it seemed insignificant. He was reading his newspaper and saw, the old news headline, “Victory– armies of Eurasia crushed in mighty victory!” Something sparked his memory, hadn't he written for this newspaper? It looked so familiar, yet the facts were all wrong, the telescreen on the wall proclaimed that the armies of Eastasia were the enemy, and that they always were. But this newspaper was in direct contradiction of that. Winston tried to abolish this paradox from his mind, but he could't the facts were both there. The Party said that Eurasia was the enemy, and that Eurasia was the enemy. This concept could not be grasped. Entering deep thought Winston deliberated these facts, everything O'Brien had said, it was the truth. The Party was always right, they controlled the past, and the present. But how could these most simple mistakes be made by the all-knowing, omnipotent collective that was The Party. Winston could not grasp the idea of doublethink here, when the facts, the contradiction faced him so plainly, it was unfathomable. The roar of cheering people outside was unearthly loud, he could not think clearly. He shut his eyes tightly and attempted to shut out the noise.
When he opened his eyes, he was clutching his glass tightly, to the point where the pressure hurt his palm. Letting go and sliding his glass off his paper, the condensation smudged some lettering from the old newsprint. The words “War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength” were smudged and bleeding into the paper. Studying the slogan of The Party Winston grew angry, he peered out the window at the people cheering in ignorant bliss outside, in pity, pity but also hatred. How could they be so accepting of the lies they were fed? Winston stood up quickly and jutted his thighs against his table in the rush. Briskly walking out of the diner, pushing cheering party fanatics out of his way. They were not bothered by his brutality though, they were to captivated in their victory announcement, full of frenzied hate and bliss. Winston was rounding the corner of the Ministry of Truth's plaza square. His brisk walk came to a dead stop. The sight of the Big Brother Statue overcame him, he stood silent. His thoughts were flooded with questions. He had not been brainwashed as O'Brien had thought, if he were could he reason like he was, no. All the lies came to him, his faint memories restored, the photograph, the falsified papers and reports, Comrade Oglivy, they were all lies, illusions of The Party, and he had been an agent of their tyranny. He had been the hand of deceit, the tool of ignorance incarnate. These people all around him whom he had pitied where so, because he had helped to make them so.
He did not love Big Brother, the sight of his figure made him sick to his stomach. He was enraged, with what he did not know, himself, Julia, O'Brien, The Party, the Proles? If human nature were to prevail, why hadn't it already? The Proles had never done anything, how could they, the Thought Police were everywhere. His head began to focus, on one thing, there may be nothing he could do about the state of his country, or The Party, but he hated Big Brother, he always would, and the feeling filled him. The Party could not control one's mind. They had not overcome his mind had they? Winston got up slowly, with a small smirk on his face.
When he turn around he faced a familiar face. It was not one he had seen before, but the nature of the face he knew all too well, it was an agent of the Thought Police, he wore a long sleek black coat. The man looked at Winston in the eyes, and he knew what he was about to do. He was there to execute Winston, as O'Brien had said. But O'Brien had failed to take on thing into account. An old Proles newspaper that had been picked up with no thought of rebellion, or heresy. And Winston was free again. He smiled at the man in the coat, as the gun was raised to his chest. The crack was heard and all went faint. A second crack, and it was over. But Winston had won the victory over himself, he was not an empty shell, he had in himself gone out, the screaming heretic that O'Brien had spoke of. He hated Big Brother, they didn't know, but that didn't matter to him, he was at peace.