Icarus, who was shaking uncontrollably, stepped onto the slippery ledge. He looked down at the murky yet calm waters below him. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”  Icarus tried to relax himself.

With a reassuring look from his father, Deadulus, he jumped.

Immediately, wind rushed through his hair and his heart began to pound and before he could stop it a deafening scream escaped his mouth.

As Hades reached up to claim his next soul, the hot thermals of Crete caught Icarus’ wings and lifted him from the underworld’s grasp. His strong but feathery wings opened and Icarus was soon reunited with his beloved father.

About half an hour past of father and son gliding over the tranquil, azure sea. The ocean was calm and Icarus was becoming more and more confident.

Icarus soared ahead and the distance between them grew. Although he trusted his only son, Deadulus had a foreboding feeling deep in his heart. So he shouted one piece of cautionary advice, “Don’t fly to close to the sun!”

Of course, Icarus being Icarus, he ignored his father’s word.

As he climbed higher in the darkening sky, the space from Icarus to the sun was growing ever smaller…

Up, up, up, past the clouds.

With the scorching ball of fire in sight, his fate was sealed.

A burning liquid trickled down his back. Icarus became flustered. A colourful feather floated down. He realised what he had done. Another feather…