The midnight sky was pitch black as the boys made their way slowly through the partly melted snow, feeling drawn to the cave as they had on so many other nights. Charlie reached his hand deep in to his overcoat pockets, feeling the sharp edges of the letter he found there. Knox rubbed his hands together anxiously, not sure if they should be going back to the cave without Neil. Meeks and Pitts walked slightly behind the other three, conversing in hushed tones. Todd was setting the pace, walking quickly, and his breath jutting out in front of his face in short puffs that hang for a moment in the air before evaporating.

As the four approached the cave, each of them said their own sort of blessing and apology to Neil for what had happened. They entered the cave one at a time, seeing in exactly the way they had left it after the last meeting- Charlie's saxophone still sat in the corner and the God of the Cave remained on the stone in the middle of the cave. But to each boy, the cave looked different in its own way. To Charlie, the cave was almost comforting- it was his connection to the happier times of the past. To Knox it was frightening- a ghostly reminder of how reckless they had once been. To Meeks and Pitts the cave represented a part of them that, for a while and burned hot with the flame of passion and now was slowly burning out, the embers of passion growing cold. And to Todd the cave was just a sad place that had once been happy and may never be the same again. As each of the boys took their traditional place around the fire, Todd began to light the fire silently- that had become his hob because he was the only one who knew how and because he refused to read out loud. When he was finished, Charlie rose and took One Hundred Year of Verse off of its rock and opened the book to the poem by Henry David Thoreau, the one that was read at the beginning of every Society meeting. This had been Neil's job- to read the poem and commence the meeting, but today Charlie had decided to step up and take over. Before he read the poem, he looked around the cave at all of these boys, once so carefree and joyful, who now had so much sadness and shame in their eyes. And he knew that his eyes looked just like theirs did. He lowered his head, looking at the book and slowly whispered, "In memory of Neil.....I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. TO live deep and suck all the marrow out of life- to put to rout all that was not life and not, when I came to die, discovered that I had not lived....amen. I now call this meeting of the Dead Poets Society to order." Charlie closed the book slowly and the small bang of finality it made sent shivers up the spines of five young, frightened boys.

Todd Anderson stood up, slowly unfolding the small, yellowed piece pf notebook paper and clearing his throat. This was the first time he had ever read out loud for the Society. He rubbed his hands against the rough fabric of his pants nervously, praying silently for the strength to read what he was about to read. He took a deep breath and then began to read, his voice timid and unsure.

"In Flanders Field
Where Poppies grow
Among the crosses

Row upon row
is how the poem was written
But today my friends, you know,

That not everyone is marked
In Flanders Field

The one we love
And miss so dear
Remains unmarked yet worshipped still
No longer does he laugh
And speak in lyric verse
Now lies he dead
And buried
Taking with him joy and mirth.

The one we speak of
Speaks no more
No more words of comfort
His spirit long since gone
And yet we still remember
All that he once shared
And so we keep our heads up high
In memory of him
Hoping that one day we shall
In Heaven meet again."

Todd sat down, shaking slightly as two tears rolled gingerly down his cheeks. He couldn't bring himself to look at the other boys, though if he had he would have seen mirror images of himself. Slowly, after a few minutes of respectful silence, Knox began to clap, and was soon joined by each of the other boys as they clapped and congratulated Todd on such an awesome poem. Todd nodded slightly, accepting their praise. Soon Todd wiped his nose and looked around the cave. "Alright guys, who's next?"

The boys looked around and Charlie stood up slowly. "I'll go." He walked to the center of the cave and stood next to the fire. "I'm afraid that mine's not exactly in the same league that Todd's was. Mine's a little different." Charlie pulled the letter out of his pocket and had just finished his throat when a noise from the woods startled them. The boys all stared at the cave entrance as a boy with familiar pale skin and red hair burst through the opening. Charlie started. "CAMERON?! What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you had left for Brighton Prep already you little asshole."

"I had. But I saw something that I had to tell you guys before I left for good."

"Well we don't want to hear it you little fucker."

"Well that's too damn bad, isn't it Nuwanda."

"Get out of here. NOW! We don't want you here. You ratted out Keating, you fucked over the entire group...you're a bunch of dog shit to us, Cameron. Whatever it is you have to say, we don't want to hear it!"

"Ok, fine. If that's how you feel than fine. If you don't care that Keating's dead too, then why the hell should I? I never liked him anyway."

The boys just stared at Cameron, all of them having heard and now just trying to comprehend what Cameron had just told them. Knox was the first one to speak.

"Cameron, what are you talking about? What do you mean Keating's dead? Is this some kind of sick prank or something?"

"No it's not a sick prank! What kind of asshole do you think I am? Ok...ok fine. Don't' answer that. But no, I'm not joking. Here, see for yourself. I'm just surprised that you guys didn't know already."

Cameron held out a newspaper that was turned to the death and birth announcements. Circled in red pen was a small blurb that head the headline:

Local School Teacher killed in Robbery

Knox took the paper and began to read the article out loud.

This week in Doring, Massachusetts, local school teacher Jonathon Keating, 34, was killed in the robbery of a local store. Reports from the police and from those present state that Keating was standing in line to pay for his purchases when another resident of the town in front of him held a small revolver to the cashiers head and demanded that the cashier empty the drawer. Keating then apparently tried to calm the man down, trying to convince him to put the gun down. Eventually, so it seems that the robber became so frustrated with Mr. Keating that he shot him in the stomach. Mr. Keating was rushed to St. James Hospital, where he was immediately put into intensive care. The doctors did all they could but Jonathon Keating passed away at 2:13 am on Sunday, January 14th, 1954. The funeral is scheduled to take place on Friday, January 20th. His mother and father ask that, ileum of lowers, that you send any and all possible donations to the Wellton Academy for boys, where Mr. Keating was an English teacher.

Knox dropped the paper and leaned his head back against the wall of the cave. Todd, beside him, picked up the paper and crumpled it into a ball. Charlie, across from them, put his head down and began to sob. Meeks and Pitts just clung to one another for support, silently weeping. Cameron stood at the entrance to the cave, leaning against the wall. Softly, so softly it was below a whisper, Charlie said something.

"Cameron, I want you to get the fuck out."

Cameron nodded silently and left the cave. That was the last time the boys ever saw Cameron. Charlie stood up and cursed to the other side of the cave, taking the crumpled newspaper from Todd's hands. He unfolded it and looked at the article, reading it over again to himself. As he reached the end, he sobbed harder and then began to violently tear to paper to shreds, throwing the pieces about him wildly. He sank to the floor of the cave and beat his fists upon the ground, shouting almost incoherently.

"NO! IT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE!!! IT CAN'T BE!!! NO! ITS NOT TRUE...ITS NOT! IT CAN'T BE! MR. KEATING WOULDN'T DO THAT TO US. NO...No...no.....," Charlie stopped yelling and sobbed silently. After time, Charlie felt a hand on his shoulders, and another hand slip around his waist as Knox, Todd, Meeks and Pitts all collapsed around him, hugging him as they sobbed as well. And that is how the boys remained until the faint, pink rays of sunlight peeked over the hills that surrounded Wellton academy. The day promised to dawn bright, clear, and sunny. But to the members of the Dead Poets Society it seemed that no day would ever dawn with light again.