Hello, my name is Icarus, and this is the story of my death. People constantly call my death tragic, but I remember it being absolutely beautiful. I had always loved and adored the sun, since I was a young boy it always watched over me. The way the warmth kissed my skin and the light washed over my face. But as my father and I sat in the dark, wet tower it was snatched from me. I stuck my hand out the window, the sun's warmth on me again, it was glorious. As my father handed me my wings, I set off. My father warned me not to fly too high. But as the sun shone over me I became greedy, I was intoxicated with the sun. Apollo, I witnessed the God Apollo, I in fact didn't love just the sun, I loved Apollo as well. He reached for me with a smile. But as I remember reaching for him, wax began to drip down my back, it was agonizing. But the greatest pain wasn't my aching back, my hand never did reach Apollo. As I plummeted towards the ocean I could see Apollo frantically whisking after me, that's all I needed. I could rest easy, I loved the sun and the sun loved me back. I loved Apollo.
-The man who flew too close to the sun
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Icarus and Apollo
Historical FictionI made my own twist on Icarus's story. I always liked the idea of Icarus and Apollo being in love. So this is my own personal take. It's rather short so it's a good small read. Art by René Milot on ArtStation
