Dead Poets Society

hands.

    “And still we sleep.

    “And still we sleep.
    And still we pray.
    And still we fear...“

    He paused sadly, “‘And still we sleep.’” He folded up the poem. Everyone in the cave applauded.
    “That was great!” Meeks cheered. Todd beamed, modestly taking in all the praise and the congratulatory slaps on the back. Keating smiled with great pride at his student’s enormous progress. He plucked a spherical icicle hanging from the roof of the cave and peered into it.
    “I hold in my hand a crystal ball. In it I see great things for Todd Anderson,” he intoned. Todd faced Mr. Keating, then suddenly, powerfully, they hugged. When they drew apart, Keating turned to the others.
    “And now,” Keating continued, “‘General William Booth Enters Into Heaven,’ by Vachel Lindsay. When I pause, you ask, ‘Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? ‘”
    Keating recited: “‘Booth led boldly with his big bass drum....’” The others answered, “’Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?’” Keating headed out of the cave, followed by the boys and girls, reciting poetry all the way home.

    As his friends paid him homage in the cave, Neil sat alone in his darkened room at home, gazing out the window. The passion had dried up and left his body. All feeling was drained from his face and limbs. He believed he was a brittle empty shell that would soon be crushed by the weight of the falling snow.

Chapter 14

    The moon was full. The stars were out in abundance. The night was clear and cold. The trees hung heavy with icicles as the boys, Ginny, and Chris followed Mr. Keating out into the night. The freeze had turned the barren forest into a world of sparkling diamonds. The group walked through the woods behind Keating as he recited: “The Saints smiled gravely and they said, “He’s come...
    “‘Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?’” they chorused.
    “‘Walking lepers followed rank on rank, lurching bravos from the ditches dank, drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale,/Minds still passion ridden, soul-powers frail...’”
    “‘Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?’” they repeated.

    As the Society marched through the still of the night, an ominous silence settled over the Perry home. Mr. and Mrs. Perry got into bed and turned off their bedroom light. They did not hear the door to another room open. Neil walked into the hall. He turned a corner and slipped quietly downstairs.
    Moonlight illuminated Mr. Perry’s study. Neil walked to his father’s desk, opened the top drawer and reached way in the back. He pulled out a key and with it, he unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. Neil sat in the leather desk chair and, reaching across the desk, he picked up the crown of flowers he’d worn as Puck and put it on his head.

    The group stopped beside the waterfall, which had frozen. The icy sculpture seemed to defy the laws of gravity as the students looked at its remarkable form. The sky was incredibly clear. Moonlight bouncing off the snow cast a strange bluish glow on the group as Keating continued the poem:

    “Christ came gently with a robe and crown,
    For Booth the soldier, while the throng knelt down.
    He saw King Jesus. They were face to face,
    and he knelt a-weeping in that holy place.”

    “’Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?’” they recited again.
    The moonlight and the mystical wonder of the frozen waterfall combined with the magical poetry to set the group dancing and playing in the snow. They worked themselves into a joyful, frantic revelry.
    Knox and Chris drifted away from the group and embraced. They kissed, soft and warm, under the frozen moon.

    Mr. and Mrs. Perry were fast asleep when the quick, short sound broke the night’s silence. “What was that?” Mr. Perry sat up.
    “What?” his wife asked, half-asleep.
    “That sound? Didn’t you hear it?”
    “What sound?”
    Mr. Perry climbed out of bed and walked into the hallway. He walked up and down the hall, finally entering Neil’s room. He ran out and down the stairs as Mrs. Perry followed, trying to get her robe on over her flailing arms.
    Mr. Perry walked into the study and turned on the light. He looked around. Everything seemed normal, but just as he turned to leave, he spotted the glistening black object lying on the carpet—his revolver. Panicked, he moved around the desk until he saw the pale white hand. He gasped.
    Neil lay on the floor, bathed in his own blood. Mr. Perry