ICARUS: chapter 1

The sun was on fire.

As always.

But right now, it was taking the whole sky down with it.

Only one was watching this time. He sat on the beach, chin raised, and blinked back the moisture that the wind brought to his eyes. His eyes were usually blue, but today they were grey. Today was not a good day to be here. He shouldn’t have come. He should be with his mother right now.

It was late, anyway.

The sixteen year old buried his toes deeper into the white sand and gazed at the shining waves that caressed the shore. Icarus’ waves. Icarus’ sea, as his mother used to say. Icarus’ sun.

No. It was not a good day to be here. But he still needed it. There hadn’t been good waves for surfing, but Icarus hadn’t want to surf. He’d wanted to swim. And he’d tried. But the familiar feelings had returned, the nausea swelling in his stomach as the land suddenly dropped, leaving his feet to kick frantically - at what? Nothing. The water had swallowed his mind as well as legs, just as it had swallowed his three-year-old sister, exactly - what was it? Six years and three hours ago. Almost four.

No. Icarus’ sea was too deep, too raw. Of the surf, Icarus was sovereign, yes. He was king where water met land, where both melted under the ever-blazing sun. But the shallowest depths were outside of his dominion.

He really needed to leave now. Icarus picked up the heavy book beside him, and tucked a pink cockleshell into his shorts pocket, before standing. He began to make his way down the beach, not bothering to brush the sand off his swim suit.

This wasn’t really a good day to be doing anything. Not every ten-year-old kid gets to lose his dad and his sister on the same day. His mother would be needing him right now. She always tried to pretend, but September 20th might as well be marked on their calendar. Icarus had to give her credit, though. Divorce wasn’t common in Orsonsburgue. Drownings were. Either way, she dealt with it well. September 20th, was, Icarus noticed, always a shopping day for his mom. What did Icarus do? He shot his own brain cells every year by jumping into the stupid deep end. Cause that was so brave.

Icarus glanced up now, at a tall cliff face. At the top, squatted a blue house. A small one, at that, but it was home. He hopped up the rock steps that went from the beach to the top, and ran his hands along smooth stone that ran on either side. It was practically the only thing on the property that wasn’t rougher than tree trunks. The stone was weathered too, but age and sand had polished it to perfection.

Almost perfect enough for Icarus.

Finally, the lean boy had gotten to the top of the of the cliff. He turned for but a moment, and gazed at the sinking orb of flame in the distance. Soon, he knew, the restless waves would taste its fire. The tender surface of the deep would have to accept the fatal kiss of the sun, dowsing its light to welcome the night’s starry embrace. It was almost sad. Why in Neptune's name was he always thinking in these terms? Icarus laughed suddenly and raised his right hand in a salute to the ancient star. Time to go home. He took off down the rough turf, on towards the small blue house squatting ahead. His mother needed him.

And after all. The dark really didn’t suit him.