HOW DID IT END? | todd anderson

come one come all. iii

—⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

I lost the game of chances, what are the chances?

the chances between me and another are slim to none. to my parents; Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, i appear as a ghost. They only see Jeffery in me, they don't see Todd. they believe that i can do anything i put my mind to, that i can achieve anything, but when they say that, they're minds believe they're talking to Jeffery and not me.

I've looked up to my brother all my life, i've seen him as a academic figure. Coming home with all straight A's and getting everything he wants. I come home with a record of A's and B's. sure they congradulate me but they fade it off to my brother, Jeffery.

sitting in my room, which was once forgotten by the four months at my time at Welton, was the same as i had left it. photos hung on my walls with friends at Balincrest. It was winter break still, snow fell outside and covered the ground in a blanket of cold snowflakes. it was beautiful but, it reminded me of something i didn't want to remember.

it's happening again.

Neil.

watching the snow fall outside of my window, as i sat on the edge of my bed - where my Balincrest uniform layed neatly ironed, and folded, sat at the edge of my bed - i remembered that early morning, when charlie woke me up from sleep. standing at the door was pitts, meeks, and knox.

my heart ached for another spark of warmth and friendship. that i knew would never come back. nothing would be the same after Welton, after Mr. Keating, after the poets, after Neil.

That dark, cold morning i remember hearing the news from charlie that "neil's dead" and from that point on, i could feel my heart

    

      D
                   Y
                                I
                                             N
                                                          G

the suitcase sat on top of my desk, unopened, holding faded memories. walking to open it, the silence of the home i grew up in got louder, so loud i hated to hear my own heartbeat.

the clasps clicked open, lifting the tethered suitcase that layed my weekend clothes, Welton uniform, loafers, ties, socks, undershirts, pajamas, my notebooks, and the book.

'FIVE CENTURIES OF VERSE'

i didn't care that i took the book with me back home and to keep. i'm keeping it for them. for Neil and Mr. Keating, to remember them.

laying beside it, was my flashlight. Gazing into the moonlit room, i remembered the first night we had our first meeting; running downstairs, through the hall, outside into the courtyard, through the forest and past the stream and to the cave.

trying to start a fire that was no use, bringing the food we could so we wouldn't stave, laughing about each others jokes, and beginning each meeting the same way.

& each meeting began, simply :

—⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"I went to the   w o o d s   because i wanted to live      deliberately,

I wanted to live.   d e e p   and suck
out all of the   m a r r o w   out of life,

to put to    r o u t.    all that was not life and not when i  had to come to     d i e

discover that i had not

         L
                    I
                                V
                                              E
                                                           D"

its happening again.

—⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

author's notes :
published two chapters in one night! i hope you're enjoying this story so far, i really apologies if this sounds bad so far, i'm writing this in Todd's pov and how i view him after dead poets society. if you have any suggestions for me to write that would be much appreciated! xx