The Fall of Icarus

Father had warned me to avoid straying to close to the sun or the water. He’d warned me, and I did not listen as I should have.

Feeling the salty sea breeze for the first time in years was too intoxicating. We’d been locked away in that labyrinth for so long, with only the creature they called the Minotaur for company. When father had told me of his plan for escape, I was so excited. And finally, after many months of preparations and work, we were finally free.

The wind beneath my waxen wings was cool and pleasant on my skin. Seeing the brilliant blue of the sky overhead made my head swim with joy and happiness, and the indigo blue of the water below was so tempting. We’d been taunted by the crashing waves against the walls of the labyrinth for so long, and it was finally here, within my reach.

But father had warned me. To fly too high would risk the heat of the sun melting the wax that held the feathers to the structure. And to fly too low would risk the sea soaking the feathers and making me heavier and lead to me drowning. He’d warned me, and I hadn’t listened.

To fly was exhilarating, after so many years trapped within stone walls, unable to find a way out to see the sky. Twisting and turning in the air brought whoops and cries from my lips as I laughed and laughed, mirth making me drunk. We were finally free. What could go wrong now?

But I flew too close to the sun. I could hear father calling for me as the wax began to soften and melt from the heat. I’d been told what would happen, and I was a fool.

The sticky wax was beginning to drip down my arms, and I was alarmed to see feathers flying off of the beautiful wings my father had spent so long to create. Father told me to come lower, lest I lose more. But I panicked, and once again, I didn’t listen to him.

The wax left trails on my skin as it continued to soften and melt, and I found myself praying to the gods for some way out. I’d already failed to listen to my father’s warnings. I didn’t want to die crashing into the water and drowning.

I prayed to the sun that it might help me. Helios, Apollo, whoever was driving it that day. I found I didn’t care who. I just didn’t want to die.

I didn’t want to die.

I was falling, the wings coming apart no matter how hard I tried to stay aloft. I heard my father’s cries for me, calling out to me in panic. But he could not risk going too low, lest he face a similar fate.

I reached up. For what, I couldn’t say. My body no longer felt like it was mine to control. It was simply acting on it’s own, reaching for something that would never come to save us. I could see father’s face, growing smaller and smaller as I continued to fall, grief already clear upon his old face. The pain and guilt I felt for him was suffocating. And what was worse, it could’ve all been avoided had I listened properly.

My eyes were drawn to the sky. Perhaps some part of me wanted to die seeing the sky. After so long in the labyrinth, the sky was freedom. Even if it’s freedom spelled my doom without my knowing. The brilliant blue soothed some part of my aching heart as I continued to fall, acting as a comforting balm on my doomed soul. It wasn’t a bad thing to look at when dying.

Even as the sunlight poured into my eyes, making them water, i didn’t look away. It was too beautiful. I didn’t want to look away from it and look down upon the rapidly approaching death below me.

Perhaps it was a consequence of my looking towards the sun, but I swore that I could see a face within it’s rays. And it was a beautiful face. The face the muses would sing about, accompanied by lyres and drums. A golden face, with flowing blond hair. A youthful face, one that was always smiling. And this face had a hand, reaching out towards me, it’s fingers long, best suited for music and song.

I found myself reaching for the hand, even if it wasn’t real. Such a beautiful face felt like a cool drink upon a hot day. It soothed my fear of death as I reached up more and more. It was not a bad thing to look upon as I fell to my death. To look upon something so beautiful in my final moments.

The hand clasped onto mine, with an intense warmth I had never felt before. And suddenly, my descent slowed to a stop. And the face never looked away.

There was no splash, no cold water sucking me in and down. Just warmth and beauty, all around me. My eyes could only widen in an attempt to take it all in.

“I’ve heard your prayers,” The face said, brilliant smile warming me through. “Come, you will not die to the waters today.”

As they pulled me up, the movements so gentle and delicate, I realized who’d stopped my fall. Brilliant Apollo pulled me into his chariot, never once letting go of my hand. The waxen wings of my father shed as he pulled me close, the half melted mess falling into the waters below. I found my breath hard to come by as Lord Apollo guided the chariot skyward once more, returning to its appropriate path.

I looked back towards my father, who continued in his escape from the labyrinth and the king who’d locked us there. I knew he sorrowed for me, mourning what he believed to be my fate. Perhaps the god Apollo will send him a dream, telling him of my true fate. I am not sure. But I know that if I am with the gods, my fate might just be truly great.