Not too high

“Remember my son. Not too high, not too low”.

Six words. Only six. So mundane, so seemingly insignificant. So easily ignored. Reaching over his shoulder, his hand returned, full of feathers and wax. Tangible reminders of his failure, of his hubris. Not that he would need any reminding.

His breath was light, calm, even. No terror, not even trepidation. Each breath in and out rang heavy in his ears. Deep, but not quick, heavy but not ragged. All he felt in the moment was an odd serenity he’d never felt before and could barely comprehend.

Turning his head over his shoulder, he looked down. He beheld the Aegean, the waters sparkling in the sunlight. The crash of the waves was inaudible from this height. The odour of salt and sand couldn’t reach him either. He reached out and flexed his fingers. As high as he was, it was cold. Goosebumps rose on his arms and the breeze was sharp against his skin.

His mind went to his father, no doubt with his nose buried in a blueprint somewhere, penning his next architectural triumph. He so excelled at leaving men and women alike in awe of his achievements. Maybe he’d understand. After all, had he not been undervalued, denigrated, and advised not to aspire for great heights for fear of the fall? He had, and was the better for it. It was a cruel irony that Daedalus’ son would be a literal paragon for the very warnings he’d scorned most of his life.

The air felt sharper, his descent accelerated. He smiled. He reached out a hand toward the sun. It filled his vision, stinging his eyes yet he kept his gaze. In his mind’s eye he could almost see vain Helios, flashing across the sky in his chariot.

Icarus smiled. He smiled at the Gods, cruel enough to curse man with the imagination and ambition to think they could stand alongside them, only to steal that hope, that dream from them. He would join them soon enough, and when he did, he would stand with his head held high. Even in his failure, he was all the more satisfied for trying. Even with his hand outstretched, as he willed, as he demanded, his fingertips to touch the sun itself, he was reminded that his reach truly did exceed his grasp.

Icarus closed his eyes. He was ready. With a silent goodbye to his father, he resigned himself to the arms of Hades.

Then, he fell.

Author's Note

A flash fiction based on a classical character. It's a different take on a character and it's not meant to be historically accurate. Any feedback you have is appreciated.

Reviews

[Kathrin S]

I really enjoyed reading this, it was interesting and a great new perspective on a classic.

Here's one thing I noticed: "All he felt in the moment was an odd serenity he’d never felt before" - repetition of 'felt'

Other than that detail, it was really well written! Thank you for sharing.

[Anthony Wayne]

Thanks for reading! Yeah I meant to leave the repetition of felt there, I feel like it added to the surreal clarity he was feeling just before he fell, glad you enjoyed it :-)

[Deco]

"Remember, my son. Not too high, not too low." Is how i would tackle those opening sentenses. Other than that, cool story.

[Tabby Mac]

Wow! The imagery in this piece is amazing! I love the subject you chose as well.
You could write books like this! I am left wanting more!!!! Really! Write more please!!
Tabby

[Anthony Wayne]

Thank you Tabby!! I'm really glad you liked it

[Stanley R. Teater]

Nicely done. A refreshingly different perspective. I enjoyed it very much.

[Anthony Wayne]

Thank you, glad you liked it

[barleygirl]

I love the imagination of writing about this age-old mythology idea in your own original way. I love the opening line, which pertains to melting wax on feathered wings . . . yet also pertains to life, too. I'm not a fan of letting people reach for heights that they clearly cannot attain. I would be the Simon Cowell judging a talent contest, becuz sometimes the kindest thing is to be honest about what heights some people can or cannot attain. Yet I also applaud those who don't care about their own true limitations & who are willing to die to go for it. I've done that. I walked when everybody said I never would again. So it's an interesting balance of hopefulness & realistic thinking which you've captured so creatively with your well-crafted analogy in a story. I also love your well-constructed storytelling which is full of imagery & flows well, compelling the reader along.

[Dave Ellis]

Excellent work. I was slowly drawn into it, jumping back to the starting line midway, and enjoying the visuals and the feeling of it with even more presence.

Also the use of old Greek myth, making it so alive.

Well done!

Dave

[Anthony Wayne]

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it