A Waking Dream

Icarus sat up. His head was throbbing. He looked around to see it was dark outside, and the green glow of his clock confirmed what he thought: it was very early morning. Icarus leaned over and flipped the switch to one of his lamps. He squinted, adapting to the harsh light. His desk was the usual mess, his laundry in heaps by the closet, and the shelf of sketchbooks and supplies was sagging. Continue reading

Advertisements