sanctum | short stories

icarus; the before & after

'When I tumbled from those burning heights and fell into the mist, I realized that wax and feather dreams are no match for reality.'

~ Unknown

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I'm afraid of the sun.

I'm in love with the sun.

From where I'm hunched over in the corner furthest from the small window of my cheap hotel room, I watch with haunted eyes as several rays peek out from behind the frayed edges of the mouldy curtains. My body aches from not having moved in several hours and the concrete beneath the thin carpet is unforgiving on my tailbone, but I don't dare move. I can't. Not when the pounding of my heart rivals the ocean's roar, my pulse liquid in my veins.

From where I'm hunched over in the corner closest to the small window of my cell, I watch with haunted eyes as several rays peek through the cast-iron bars. My body aches from not having moved in several hours and the rough squares of stone beneath me are unforgiving on my tailbone, but I don't dare more. I can't. Not when the pounding of my heart rivals the howling of the wind outside these walls, my pulse a hurricane in my veins.

I wonder if terror is a part of my punishment? I used to be fearless, all too eager to hurl myself into Apollo's melting embrace. Now there is not a day where I'm not deathly afraid. That little boy locked away, imprisoned by walls of ivy green and cold stone for his creativity . . . I wonder where he went? If he drowned beneath the waves like I was supposed to? Like I should have? Or if he never even made it to the skies, still trapped in that eternal cage where wax and feather dreams are the only sense of freedom he'll ever be fortunate enough to taste?

I wonder if daring is a part of my punishment? I feel fearless, all too eager to hurl myself into Apollo's melting embrace. Will there ever be a day when I am deathly afraid? The person who I will be, older, wiser and, perhaps, free from these walls of ivy green and cold stone . . . I wonder where in life he'll be? If he reached the unimaginable heights I someday plan to? Or if he has yet to make it to the skies, still trapped and waiting for wings of wax and feather to bring him a taste of freedom?

Several moments pass, each one longer than the last, and still, the light behind the curtains remains. It is setting, I have to remind myself. It will be gone soon, and I will be able to venture out into the dark for a while. But it will be back. It always comes back. A nightmare that lasts too long because once, it was real. And if I had the chance to travel back into the past, I would never have tried to fly, no matter the consequences.

Several moments pass, each one longer than the last, and still, the light behind the bars fades. It is only setting, I have to remind myself. It will be gone soon, and I will have to hide away in the dark for a while. But it will be back. It always comes back. A dream that doesn't last long enough because one day, I want it to be real. And if I had the chance to travel forwards into the future, I would try to fly, no matter the consequences.

Because with the flight there is always the fall. And let me tell you now as I live in fear of the sun, that no great heights or golden warmth could have been worth my fall from grace.

Because with the flight, there might not be a fall. But let me tell you now as I live in love with the sun, that the great heights and golden warmth I seek will always be worth a fall from grace.