Novel & Cerita Dead Poets Society O Captain My Captain

“It is a privilege to be killed by our sleeping Ti Malice. You were chosen to serve her for all eternity. It is a privilege! Those tears of yours shouldn’t be selfish and sad. They should be tears of joy. You shall relive your death again and again until you see the joy in the experience for yourself. Until you can face our master when she wakes from her slumber.” Easy Street let out a long, low noise like a mortally wounded animal. Papa Nightmare returned to his captain’s chair and addressed one of his Civil War ghouls. “Has she stopped?” “Yes, Papa. They are on the grounds of an old cemetery, according to our informant.” “Excellent. Change course and prepare the others.”

The rows of headstones stood as silent sentinels, each bearing witness to the ultimate sacrifice made by the soldier. The flag-draped coffin was carried and placed on a stand, and the captain began to speak. He spoke of the soldier's bravery and courage, of the selfless service he had given to his country. He spoke of the family and friends who mourned his loss, and of the legacy he had left behind. As the captain finished speaking, a lone bugler sounded "Taps." The haunting notes filled the air, bringing a lump to the throat of everyone present. As the notes faded away, a rifle salute was fired, the sound echoing across the cemetery.

“Now, what could’ve happened here?” We searched the captain’s desk and cabinets, finding IDs, personal belongings, porcelain ceramics, and jars of ginamos and hipon. Bravely, teacher Mary reached into the captain’s pants pocket and retrieved a purse containing ten five-centavo coins, three fifty-peso bills—and a condom. She tossed it away in disgust, muttering something I couldn’t catch. Then, she lifted the jacket to examine the captain’s remains more closely. I staggered outside, sitting on the cold metal floor against the icy cabin wall, sobbing. I asked God why this had happened. It was beginning to traumatize me.

I smiled bleakly and wondered if Blake finally realized his mistake. Unfortunately, everything was already too late. Somehow, Blake found out where my grave was. With a bottle of liquor and a small knife, he knelt before my tombstone and cried. He apologized to me over and over, saying he loved me. He even tried to end everything there in front of my grave. I wondered if he thought that would atone for his sins. If he thought I would forgive him because of this, he was going out of his mind. Fortunately, the cemetery caretaker found him in time and sent him to the hospital. Otherwise, I would have been disgusted enough to vanish on the spot.

The sound system echoed through the whole room and seemed to vibrate through from the floor below. "Evening everyone. This is Captain Elaine Shultz. Thank you for attending the funeral for our dear lost loved one, Alexis. We will honor her life and death as a brave human. If you would please take the time to find a window looking off the starboard side of the ship, we will get started in a few moments."

Maybe that, too, was insanity, and I needed the reminder. "Let them throw everything they have at us," I said, "Finally," and meant the words when I said them. I would rather be dead when they found them anyway.

I continued, “I looked out for them. I always considered their every need before making a decision. And it breaks my heart… to see them… lifeless…” And with that, the captain finally succumbed to his grief and wept. I turned to face me and embraced him. I allowed him to cry on my shirt. I never wanted anyone to die because of cause. But whoever did this clearly didn’t care about them. “I promise you, captain,” I said as I rubbed his back in comfort, “Whoever did this to our comrades will pay for what they have done.” “And how are you doing to do that? Are you going to put us in danger once more?” one soldier raised his voice as he approached us. He continued, “Because of your own personal pr

An hour later, after searching for anything to help us within books that ranged from brand new to hundreds of years old, I huffed with disappointment and decided to stretch my legs; my pale finger trailed over the spines of books, dust painting my fingertip. Once I reached the poetry section, I smiled brightly. All around me were books from Silvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickson, Robert Frost, and many others that were like my old friends. Taking a random book off the shelf, I flipped through its contents. "(...) Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home." ~ Tecumseh "You enjoy poetry too?" A familiar voice spoke behind me, making my heart speed up as I jumped slightly. Turn

Well, they don’t know that a handsome man possessed her body. The day passed by like nothing happened. It seems like the memories of their former captain never existed. It’s ironic how they showed no sympathy to him and threw him to the deep sea without a hint of despair. I asked myself a question that rarely occurs in my head. “Would someone cry on my deathbed? If there is, would it be tears of torment, or of satisfaction?” The sunset smiled brightly at me as if it’s also joyful for my success. The wavelength of its colors continued on their way to my eyes. God painted an art in front of me, which was worth more than any treasure chest in this world.

The hymn surged again, louder than before, drowning the captain’s orders. The Monument flared crimson and gold, beams of light spilling across the square. --- The militia faltered. Some soldiers dropped their weapons, staring in awe at the Monument’s glow. Others raised shields uncertainly, their courage wavering. The captain screamed at them to advance, but his words drowned in the roar of voices and the thunder of memory itself.