Below, he’s tethered by confusion of my walls, that beast is lost to the intricacy of labyrinths. I hold his secret and for this I’m kept imprisoned here.
The seaways are controlled and every ship is searched. How can we leave this Island, son?
If just we could, soar like birds, my son, if we just had wings.
But see these feathers, and bring me wax. I am the greatest engineer alive. I know the secrets and I can make us wings, dear son. Let’s leave for Sicily. Let’s leave this tyranny.
But dear Icarus: You cannot touch the sun.
I could not see anything else than the the wings of Daedalus and Icarus in the image. Daedalus supposedly built the labyrinth for the Minotaur, but was imprisoned so he couldn’t tell the secret. The rest of the story is more well known I think. Icarus flew too high and fell into the sea and drowned.
Friday Fictioneer is a community of bloggers who write stories every week to the same image. All is under the diligent stewardship of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and there are many other wonderful authors there.
December 9, 2015