He had never known her, but he would always love her. His mother had given her life for his, her only son. She had died, holding him in her arms, still covered in the afterbirth. They had torn him from her womb. There had been complications, his father told him. There was nothing the doctors could’ve done. It wasn’t his fault, though the other children still enveloped him in their malicious mind-games and their too transparent efforts to shame him. It was a miracle, of the kind that happens every day, that his father had managed to raise him. The old man, wizened and blinded though he was by the weight of the years, showed him where to find his feet on the path of life. He was eager to learn, always obeyed his commands. “Like father, like son,” the villagers would say, as his father taught him both his trade and his gift for reading faces – a gift often unlooked for in the blind eyes of the inventor.
They sailed from that island which had always been their home, where every morning was a reminder of the two women they had loved – the fantasy mother and the mourned wife. They had sailed, seeking new opportunities. The father agreed, and his son dutifully followed, promised the reward of a new life, and the father’s gift had failed him. The beggar-king had tricked him with the promise of work, designing weapons for a war that would never happen. They were imprisoned in a prison of their own design, a cage not only for their memories but for the king’s guardian, the island’s best nightmare.
He had always done what his father had told him, always obeyed that benevolent despot’s whims, an errand boy sent in his father’s place. Sent for feathers, sent for glue. He had always obeyed his father. Until this day.
Icarus flew too close to the Sun.
Still sick, still rambling with this one…but it’s my first ever Trifecta Writing Challenge! The challenge this week was to use the word shame but in a very specific sense (Trifecta Writing Challenge selects a word and you can only use the dictionary definition they choose.) It was in the third definition of the word: to cause to feel shame. Also a big thanks and a welcome back to Steph from BeKindReWrite for this week’s InMon prompts: Best Nightmare, The War That Never Happened, Mind Games, Reading Faces and Beggar-king. Oh and I’m also answering Sunday Scribblings’ call for a Fairy Tale, so I’ve written one here for you…