I stood atop this abandoned building.
The dark, eerie night that swallowed the beautiful world from my eyes.
The brazen sun that no longer appeared mighty before me.
I now only find comfort within the night.
I sat at the top of this twelve-story building, thinking I should jump off.
I had nothing more to live for.
I, Icarus, born an orphan, who was held captive by my abusive adoptive parents and escaped to the slums at the age of seven.
That wretched place, I had to survive eating the disgusting vermin of nature. Fighting others day and night just to survive.
Having to steal, risking my life on multiple occasions.
Dancing with the reaper, facing off against disease and illness. Not that it could ever consume me.
Then, at the age of eleven, I still remember when I took my first life…
Holding that ragged knife in my hand, the blood that dripped from it.
Why? Why did he come at me like a savage beast?
I did no wrong…
I didn't do anything wrong. I kept telling myself.
That poor old man…
His old wrinkled face. Ragged clothes. Weak and frail. His skinny bony structure, and his eyes that showed a life of struggle.
I didn't want to do it…
I was hungry. How could you blame me?
I only wanted some food and I would've gone on my way.
But, he yelled and shouted, "What are you doing in my house!? Get OUT! NOW!" Charging at me with a knife in hand.
Not like it was much of a house anyways, more so a shabby hut at best.
"Wait, I'll leave!" I said.
But he didn't listen, still charging at me with malice.
I was scared, feeling the reaper laughing from below thinking he has another pitiful soul to take with him.
Luckily, that bag of bones was so brittle that before he could get near me he fell to the ground. His legs looked as if they would break and disperse into dust.
I mean he was a waste of life, God clearly gave up when making this man. I'm surprised he even lived to be this old.
That ol' man would put mummies to shame when it came to being nothing more than a piece of history.
Heh, you could probably put him in a museum and call him an ancient human of the past.
Oops, looks like I'm getting off task, back to the story of course…
When he fell the knife flew from his hand landing at my feet.
It was a life or death situation between me and him…
And of course, I took the knife and stabbed him to death.
With every desperate blow pouring my life away into every hit, thinking it was now or never. Leaving nothing but a pool of blood.
I didn't stop. Like a lion devouring a gazelle, where I was the lion and that ol' man became the pathetic gazelle.
I kept stabbing and stabbing leaving so many holes he could pass as a sponge.
And his last dying breath left this earth.
But for some odd reason I felt no remorse, why?
I was disgusted.
Not because of what I've done, but because of what I felt in those moments, the voices laughing in my head.
I felt a slight smirk run across my face and from that moment on, I knew I lost all sanity. What was left of my humanity perished away.
Enduring a life of shame, forced to live as some freakish animal.
I had no friends, no family, and no place to call home.
Now finally, at the age of sixteen I decided that I was tired of it all, wanting to end it. Not that anyone would care.
This life of despair I lived, I wanted nothing more to do with it. The never ending pain.
With no second thoughts I jumped.
And as I fell, I could feel time slowing down.
While waiting for the open arms of death to embrace me, I could see the peerless beauty of the moon shining in the endearing dark of the night.
A sight that was beyond comprehension, I saw it.
The moon.
Smiled? At me?
"Must be my mind playing tricks…"
But was it?
A voice called out to me.
"Icarus…" it was faint
Still falling within the air, that sudden voice that called out to me shocked me.
It calls me again…
"Icarus…Take my ha—"
"Who is it?" I called out
"HAHAAHAHHAH"
"HEHEHEHEHEH"
"ICARUS, TAKE MY HAND…"
I was confused. Who is it that could possibly be calling my name? It's low, rasping chuckles that haunt my mind. Its breath that felt so far yet so close. It was as if I could feel its breath touching over every inch of my skin, causing goosebumps to flare up. Even though nothing was there. It's whispery hiss that brought despair to those who could hear it.
It scared me to the core.
"WHO I—"
He died…
Before he could finish those words.
His body made contact with the ground. Spattering into mush. A horrific sight. The night air that whistled throughout. The sinister silence that followed. It was the end of Icarus' sorrowful life.
Or was it…
Icarus gave in.
And took the devil's hand…
The Night Icarus Descended
Marks the start with the deal between him and the devil.
This was the beginning of Icarus Descent…