❝ we don't live in a fairytale. we live in a tragedy. ❞
icarus made the mistake of flying too close to the sun,
but it was the best mistake he ever made.
- neil does not die in this story -
#1 in #neilperry | 7.24.20.
This will set place in 2018, and will be written in first person. I am so satisfied with how every turned out, I'm literally emotional.
For the last time, Happy reading!
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Icarus Perry's POV
I COULD HEAR the annoying voice of Natalia Anderson as she counts up to one hundred. We're not even kids anymore, yet the group decided we play hide and seek. The moment Greg Dalton suggested we play that, I just had to roll my eyes.
What sixteen year old plays hide and seek?
Grandpa and his friends decided to gather up in his house, and they just had to bring their grandchildren with them. I have never been one to mix around with them, especially since they're all so energetic, but what could I do?
When I was way younger, Grandpa decided to adopt me and give me a name. I only call him that because he'd be too old to be my dad, and people would think it'd be weird. So we agreed that he be my grandfather.
Trudging up the stairs to the attic that Grandpa advised me not to enter, I deliberately disobey him as soon as I step foot on the varnished mahogany floor. And it was nothing as I expected, at all.
You'd expect attics to be all dusty and suffocating, where you inhale dust and mold ever other two seconds. Where the ceiling would be infested with cobwebs and whatnot. But no, it was clean, spotless, excluding the cabinets that lined the walls.
I walk towards the cabinets reluctantly, not really knowing what I was gonna do. I wonder why grandpa wanted me to avoid the attic, and how it was so clean, there's no speck of dust. Was this where he spent most of his time? Looking around momentarily, I spot something in my peripheral vision, something that wasn't a cabinet.
Turning towards it, I realize that it was a chest. Natalia was around 50 by now but I didn't care. What would you do if you were in your grandparent's attic? There must be all kinds of memories here.
I inch closer to the chest, and realize that it wasn't locked. Smiling to myself, I open it, and sure enough, there were all sorts of things inside. Books, clothes, papers, you name it. But one particular thing caught my eye in the chest. Picking it up amidst the others, it was an envelope, with a wax seal that was already opened.
I mean, it couldn't hurt to read, right?
Opening the envelope, I take the letter out, then I began to read. As I was reading, I realize it was some sort of a farewell letter, and that there was so much emotions put into it I wonder what happened to the sender.
With love, your Pres.
For the time that I was under grandpa's roof, he's told me numerous stories about him and his friends. All their adventures, the Dead Poets Society, and his asshole of a father. But he never told me anything about a girl, about his love.
