Are You Afraid of the Dark He likes to listen to other people tell their stories. The way they do it, and how, what sounds similar between each story. It's a different kind of poetry than anything in Mr. Keating's class, more like slam poetry or play work, beautiful in a dark and sinister sort of way.
It speaks to something morbid, deep inside of him. Everything about this place does, just like showing up in Darrow had. But listening to ghost stories in the warm summer night, that creeping, impenetrable dark a ring around the firelight like it will hold them in. Neil doesn't know what to do about it, this unnerving darkness and these quiet feelings of taking in all the stories around him.
For every story he listens to, he eats a s'more and shuts himself up from telling one of his own. Some of them are silly. Some of them are darker. Some of them are ones he heard around Halloween, or when he first came to Welton, or even experienced in Darrow.
So it takes several s'mores and a bit of psyching himself up, a lull in stories where no one else is talking or seems ready to tell one of their own, before Neil speaks up.
"I've got one," he says, moving closer to the fire to push another log on. "I've got one too."
Wildcard [ hit me up with whatever you're jiving with, plot with me with a PM to Neil's inbox, or a PP at besosde ]
Neil Perry | Dead Poets Society (CRAU) | OTA
He likes to listen to other people tell their stories. The way they do it, and how, what sounds similar between each story. It's a different kind of poetry than anything in Mr. Keating's class, more like slam poetry or play work, beautiful in a dark and sinister sort of way.
It speaks to something morbid, deep inside of him. Everything about this place does, just like showing up in Darrow had. But listening to ghost stories in the warm summer night, that creeping, impenetrable dark a ring around the firelight like it will hold them in. Neil doesn't know what to do about it, this unnerving darkness and these quiet feelings of taking in all the stories around him.
For every story he listens to, he eats a s'more and shuts himself up from telling one of his own. Some of them are silly. Some of them are darker. Some of them are ones he heard around Halloween, or when he first came to Welton, or even experienced in Darrow.
So it takes several s'mores and a bit of psyching himself up, a lull in stories where no one else is talking or seems ready to tell one of their own, before Neil speaks up.
"I've got one," he says, moving closer to the fire to push another log on. "I've got one too."
Wildcard
[ hit me up with whatever you're jiving with, plot with me with a PM to Neil's inbox, or a PP at