'O Captain My Captain'
The Beginning of the Dead Poets Society
Based on the depressing movie starring Robin Williams
I don't claim that I made up the whole DPS thing, because then this wouldn't be a fan-fic
Look it's ANOTHER coolio awesome fantastic terrific Uzi pyramid! Yay hooray yippee onomatopoeia!
I'll shut up now.
~Chapter One: Down Memory Lane~
The man looked out the window into the dark winter night with mourning eyes. Snow fell down from the sky, covered the ground in crystalline white blankets. He sighed, and remembered all the boys in his English class, all standing on their desks, all saying the same thing. "Oh captain, my captain." He murmured. He knew that he would always vividly remember each and every one of them. Todd Anderson, Knox Overstreet, Charlie 'Nuwanda' Dalton, Richard Cameron, Steven Meeks, Gerard Pitts.... and Neil Perry. Neil, who had always been so cheerful, and strong. Neil, who had played the part of Puck in Midsummer Night's Dream so well. Neil, who had so often fought with his father. Neil, who, despite his father and mother's wishes, did not want to become a doctor. Neil, who had been such a good example for the other boys. Neil.... he knew tears were forming in his eyes. The seventeen year-old had shot himself just last night. The man looked down at the cold ground below, and sparkling tears fell onto the windowsill silently. Neil Perry had been dragged into his car by his angry father, just after he had finished acting in Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', without being given a chance to say good-bye to his friends for the last time. The man sighed. Little had he known, that that was the last time he would ever see Neil Perry again.
"Mr. Keating?" The man turned. Mr. Nolan, head of administration at Welton Academy. "Are you ready?" He asked sternly.
"If it's all right with you, sir, I think I might just go for a bit of a walk down memory lane." John Keating replied. He tried hard not to smile, for he knew this would not make Mr. Nolan happy. Mr. Nolan gave a small barbaric grunt of either exasperation or displeasure, and Keating took advantage of the incomprehensibility of the principal. He buttoned up his long trench coat, slung a book bag over his shoulder, and walked out of the room. Once down the stairs, he slowed down. There was a glass showcase, filled with pictures and trophies that belonged to former members of Welton. "If you listen closely, they will tell you their legacy." He whispered. That had never fooled the boys. Of course, it was true, but you would never be able to hear the stories of the young men in the pictures. He walked down the hall, staring intently at the memorabilia. Sport teams.... debate teams.... and then there was the yearbook. Keating knew that he could not open it, for it was sitting happily in its glass prison. He fingered the flap of his bag, and pulled out his copy of the yearbook. He flipped to page twenty-two, and the familiar sense of nostalgia washed over him. "John Keating...." He looked at the younger version of himself. "Now, Mr. Keating, let's find the other Dead Poets." He murmured. Keating continued to shuffle through the pages, looking for the other members of the original Dead Poets Society. He smiled. "Joe Redden, Eli Radissi, Harold Schertz, Ethan Wells.... " He flipped back, to page twenty-six. "And Samuel Perry." A smiling, dark-haired boy looked out from the picture. He sighed. Neil's uncle had been one of the Dead Poets. The seventeen year-old had died acting. A set piece had fallen on him, squeezing the life out of his chest. Keating knew why Mr. Perry had refused to let Neil act, and the intentions were good, although the father of the superbe actor had been very harsh on his son. Keating looked up at the deserted hall. It was time to reawaken the Dead Poets Society.
Here's my first entry! Hope you like it! R&R S.V.P.
~Uzi~