Icarus

-- in which she dares to go too close to the sun, leading to her untimely demise.

“Icarus”

By: Selene Theia C. Samson

 

He doesn’t know it, but he’s like sunshine.

I was having a bad day, one of the worst I’ve had in a while. My day just wasn’t going my way, no matter how hard I tried.

I woke up later than usual, didn’t have the time to eat breakfast or even get ready with only a few minutes left to spare before classes start, so I rushed to school with mismatched socks, with my white blouse unbuttoned and unkempt hair that stood up on all sides. My classmates laughed at my haggard appearance, while my teacher scolded me for being late, and I even had to stay outside for the whole first period. To make things worse, I forgot my lunch money so I didn’t get to have lunch, and I had  finally received my quiz results; which was a failing grade. And as a cherry on top of all the unfortunate incidents that happened today, best friend was also absent, so I was alone the entire day.

Suffice to say, I was frustrated and angry at the world. It just can’t be a mere coincidence anymore! It’s as if some god or deity is out there mocking me.

 I stared at the clock the entire time, paying little to no attention to the class. I just wanted this day to end already.

Muttering curses under my breath, I bolted out of the classroom faster than a jet, hoping to get home quick so I can just relax in my comfortable bed, drinking hot chocolate and watch Netflix at home with my cat. That made me feel a bit better, just thinking about having the house all to myself.

But just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse, it suddenly rained cats and dogs. And guess what? I didn’t bring an umbrella. God, of course I didn’t.

I tried to step outside the campus and got a bit drenched, so I decided to stay near the gates, waiting for the rain to stop. What a great weather for such a great day, I thought scornfully, glaring at the dark gloomy clouds that enveloped the usual clear and cloudless blue sky.

Laughing humorlessly at my bad luck, I sunk to my knees and stayed there for a while, feeling defeated.  I didn’t know how long I was sitting there for, nor did I care, but the rain still wasn’t letting down. I felt awful, and I couldn’t help but succumb to sorrow as I felt a tear slide down from my eye. What I was feeling was oddly fitting for such gloomy weather. I hated the rain with a passion.

And just as I was about to start crying like a little child who was lost in a supermarket, a shadow suddenly obscured my vision. I looked up, bewildered to find my childhood friend whom I harbour feelings for standing there with a red umbrella in his hand.

“Hey, why are you still here?” He spoke, peering down at me. Like a deer caught in headlights, I froze and it took a while for me to form a response.

“I didn’t bring an umbrella…” I averted my eyes to the side, embarrassed to be caught crying.

He chuckled at me, the beautiful sound music to my ears as he helped me up. My cheeks went red as a tomato at the contact and the close physical proximity, I hid my flushed face with my long bangs as I tried to widen the distance between me and him without getting drenched from the rain.

 “You should’ve called for help you know,” He lightly scolded me, as we started to walk the way home, sharing a tiny umbrella. It was hard to squeeze in but we managed, only getting a bit wet from the rain.

“I know… But still, I didn’t want to bother anyone with my problems,” I sheepishly replied as he nudged me playfully, “I wouldn’t have minded, idiot.”

He sent me a crooked, charming smile as my face went fifty shades of red as I avoided his intense gaze, “I worry about you, you know?”

“Thank you,” I whispered under my breath, barely audible, my lips quivering from the cold as he pulled me closer to him to avoid getting wet. He didn’t seem to hear me.

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re going through, but hang in there okay?” He muttered, his eyes sparkling even under the dark sky, and I was rendered speechless.

Suddenly, in that moment, my day felt less miserable, like all my previous worries vanished in thin air, left as quickly as it came.

He’s the embodiment of the sun--the way his eyes shine brightly, almost blinding me, the way his eyes crinkle with happiness, his cheekbones rising up as he shows his teeth.

Whenever bad days occur, he was always there to brighten my day. He could instantly light up an entire room with his sunny, childlike smile and boisterous laughter. His positive outlook on life contrasted and clashed with mine. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I found myself constantly find myself seeking for his warmth, his pure radiance. His mere presence alone reminds me that everything will be alright, reminding me that there is a rainbow after the rain, that the rain will subside and that the sun’s bright shining rays will conquer the sky once again.

But like the sun and the vast blue skies, I couldn’t reach him, even if I tried. I was like Icarus who dared to fly too near to the sun, leading to his demise.

I stared longingly at his grave, my heart shattering a million pieces, as the world came crashing down on me. The sorrow flowed through my veins and deadened my mind. It was a poison to my spirit, dulling and killing off my other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was as if a black mist had settled upon me and refused to shift, for the only source of light in my life just disappeared.

It was raining today too, as if the sky was mourning for his death. I suddenly felt an odd sense of comfort in the rain, but it doesn’t wash away my sorrow. I stood there in front of his grave, as the rain poured down at my frail body, relentlessly. It was freezing cold, and I would probably go down with a fever, but I just didn’t find it in me to care.

Oh, how I long for the sun.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

 

Author's Note

hello, this is for academic purposes! please tell me what you think, i would gladly appreciate it! :)

Reviews

[Ysa]

I feel that this is very appropriate for teenagers and it can even be a scenario for young adults as well. Very relatable. You made use of your vocabulary, and there is the different lengths of your sentences. I merely suggest you try not to make some of your sentences too long. They can be halved or shortened. :) But great and amazing work :D

[Kerra]

I think this is wonderful, and it is very well written, it is descriptive and full of imagery.

[Just Kim]

Once again great imagery and detail. You have a knack for story telling, please keep writing stories. So nicely presented.

[JayG]

Well, you did ask, so you can only blame yourself for this. 🤪

Let’s start with the most important points:

1. This isn’t about talent.
2. It’s not about how well you write.
3. It’s not about the story.
4. It’s not your fault.
5. Creative writing class is about writing creatively. It’s NOT about how to write fiction. And if you are 18 as your bio suggests, and in high school, your teacher knows no more about writing fiction than do you, at this point. The school's job is to help you become a knowledgeable and responsible adult, trained in a set of general skills that can make you useful to a prospective employer. And since the kind of writing employers need from us is primarily reports and essays, that’s all the teacher, and the students are trained in. Professions, like medicine, engineering, and commercial fiction-writing, are acquired in addition to that skill set.

The problem you face? As Mark Twain put it: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” So how can you fix the problem you don’t see as being one?

To better understand what I mean, stop reading at the end of this paragraph, and have your computer read the first few paragraphs to you (for the PC you have to first activate Windows Narrator https://www.pcmag.com/how-to/how-to-use-windows-10s-narrator-to-read-your-screen-aloud). Why? Because when you read the story, the narrator’s voice—your voice—is filled with the emotion you would place there when telling this to an audience. For the reader, though, there’s only what punctuation suggests. That means all the emotion you add to the reading through your performance is missing for the reader. But that emotion is necessary because instead of placing the reader on the scene as the protagonist, you’re transcribing yourself telling the story to an audience. Do that, and what have you got? It’s a storyteller’s script, minus the stage directions, or, time to rehearse.

The short version: You can’t use the tricks of one medium in another. And in this case, the printed word can reproduce neither sound nor vision. So stop here to have the computer read what you have posted, and listen to what a reader really gets. Then, to better understand how we can place the reader on the scene, as the one living the story, and why it matters, take a look at this article:
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/the-grumpy-writing-coach-8/
- - - - - - - -

When you read the story you have an advantage a reader doesn’t: You begin reading knowing the character and her history, her aims, and her goals. So you start out with context for everything she says and does. If you leave out things a reader needs because they seem too obvious to mention, you’ll never notice, because you won’t see them as missing. To show how much that matters, look at a few lines as a reader must:

• I was having a bad day, one of the worst I’ve had in a while.

So…someone we know nothing about, so far as where they are in time or space, of unknown age, situation, and gender, is having what they see as “a bad day.” It could mean that none of their spells are working properly. It might mean that enemy soldiers have the company pinned down. It could also mean a hundred other things, because without context…

• My day just wasn’t going my way, no matter how hard I tried.

This is so generic in nature that at the end of the first paragraph we still don’t know anything meaningful. And since you can neither retroactively remove context, or make a second first-impression...

• I woke up later than usual, didn’t have the time to eat breakfast or even get ready with only a few minutes left to spare before classes start, so I rushed to school with mismatched socks, with my white blouse unbuttoned and unkempt hair that stood up on all sides.

From a reader’s viewpoint: Someone unknown just used 50 words—a run-on sentence, to tell us that an unknown female student of an unknown school, left the house with her blouse hanging open, and hair that she didn’t even run a comb through as she walked. In other words, a slob. So…does she sound like someone I would want to know?

• My classmates laughed at my haggard appearance, while my teacher scolded me for being late, and I even had to stay outside for the whole first period.

You began by saying she had a bad day. Listing the things that made it that way? That’s detail, not story. As the great Alfred Hitchcock put it, “Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.” So trim, trim, trim. And never confuse movement with action.
- - - -
But forget all that, because it’s a symptom, not the problem. Because you’re missing the knowledge you need, she’s not living the story as a human being. Instead, she’s dutifully following your orders Things happen because you want them to happen for dramatic, and story reasons, not because a living person decided to do them, based on her personality, resources, needs, and perception of the situation. So, conveniently, she alone came to school without an umbrella. She alone is unwilling to get wet. And, she has no friends who might share one. Unlike others, she won’t go out in the rain, walk home, and dry off. She, alone, falls to her knees and weeps rather than finding a plastic trash bag to use as a poncho, or trying SOMETHING. Why? Because the plot says she has to be there so the romantic interest can find her.

How real can that be to a reader? Would you go to school looking like that? Would you spend the entire day staring at the clock instead of paying attention to the subject being taught, simply because you failed a test in an unknown subject, guaranteeing that you fail that one, too? Would you be friends with someone like that?

Hell no. So how real can she sem real to the reader?

And think about it. Where does the story begin? When she meets the boy. So how about opening with:
- - - -
As I stood beneath the overhang by the high school’s main entrance, studying the rain and wishing it would stop, a male voice from behind said, “Forget your umbrella?”

“Yes,” I said as I turned. I'd have said more but my tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of my mouth. The black canopy of his umbrella was spread behind his head, framing a face that I could stare at forever. I wanted to say more, but his smile, alone, had me paralyzed. Still gaping at him would be stupid—and make me seem more so—so, I forced myself to shrug and say, “I did. It’s been that kind of day…I’m Jessa, by the way.”

That brought a smile that made me melt inside—that made me want to say, “I don’t know who you are, but would you mind very much if I kissed you?” But that would be dumb. So instead, I added, “Now, if I only knew someone who would share theirs with me….

He laughed. “And a hello to you, Jessa. I’m Angelo, and I just might know someone like that.” He shifted his umbrella in a way that invited me to join him under it, so I…
- - - -
Is it your story? No. Nor is it great writing. It’s a quick parallel to show a more character-centric approach to the same kind of scene. I began it where the actual story begins, to involve the reader, immediately.

Look at the differences:
1. We learn that she’s been having a bad day, in context, as-Angelo-learns-it. So we’re observing through her perception of what’s happening, not through being lectured.
2. We learn her name from her, as Angelo does, in a way natural to the situation, not from an invisible narrator.
3. We learn the weather when she pays attention to it, not as a weather report.
4. We meet Angelo naturally, as-she-does. And we don’t just know it happened, because we react to him AS HER. We aren’t lectured on him. Instead, SHE reacts to him, from within the moment she calls “now.” So the scene is happening as she experiences it, in real-time.

Notice the natural flow of motivation/response.

1. She notices the rain and reacts to it by wishing it would stop, which implies that she has no rain-gear.
2. She notices a male voice from behind, as we do. She responds, and reacts by turning, just as you or I would.
3. His appearance motivates her to freeze.
4. Realizing that she looks dumb motivates her to clarify and expand on what she said.
5. His reaction to that motivates her to want to kiss him.
6. Realizing that she's being silly, motivates her to take control, and ask for his help.
7. Her words motivate him to give his name and accept her request.

Tick...tick...tick.

Here’s the thing about that approach: each interaction acts as a tick of what’s often called the scene-clock. It duplicates the way we act in life, noticing and reacting, and gives a feel of the action taking place in real-time. And because we have BECOME the protagonist, knowing both her actions and what motivates them, if FEELS like real-life.

So we’ve placed the reader into the protagonist’s viewpoint, knowing what they know, and privy to what matters to them, in the way it matters to them.

Make sense? If it does, two suggestions: First, the articles in my WordPress writing blog (link at the bottom of this) will show you other issues you need to look into. And if, after that, you feel you want to know more, the website I link to below this paragraph is giving the best book on fiction-writing technique I’ve found to date, free. It’s the book that got me published. And if I can do it, anyone can. So dive in. You’ll spend a lot of time wondering why you didn’t notice the things he talks about, since once pointed out they’re obvious.
https://ru.b-ok2.org/book/2640776/e749ea

So have at it. And while you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[mariposa]

I'm in awe. I love this. I don't know how to express love and hate at the same time on how you ended the story HAHAHA I love how relatable the persona is at school and how I would also rant on hating the world!! With these stories, you would expect the persona of a schoolgirl to be a stereotype or a cliché but it is not; it's merely the truth. I love your writing style because reading it gives me relief and a break from this world. Your writing is original and creative. I'd love to see more of your works huhu please don't kill someone again, thanks HAHAHAHAH

[Geean]

I love this! The unpredictablity vibe in your writing is very nice. While reading this, I was constantly at the edge of my seat. It kept me guessing on what turn the plot will take and its refreshing to read something with such twists throughout the story. Overall, great story.

[pearl]

WHYYYYYYYY? BAKIT? BAKIT MO PINATAY HUHUHUHU MAN, HE WAS THE ONLY GOOD THING IN HER LIFE HUHU HAHAHAHAHAH pero anyway, wow! This story is so amazing! I'm deeply hurt huhu The thought was impeccably delivered.

[fishball]

One thing I can say is that it hurts. Grr.
I was completely absorbed in the story, and felt every emotion written in the words, the imagery, and all of the figures that you used. They perfectly conveyed each feeling as if it were my own huhu.
It's a great story, all in all. I'm sorry, I was too busy with the FEELS to notice any errors. I'd say this is already a favorite of mine. So keep it up, moongirl!! :DDD

[alfon]

It is a well-structured creative writing work. It also catches the reader's attention!!!

[gabby]

Selene! i super love your work. nagulat ako sa ending AAAAA it is such a well written story, the theme is catchy and your transition is amazing because no one really expected how things went. tbh this one of my fav stories i've read so far!!