This is actually my first time writing a short story. For some odd reason, I've been obsessed with this myth lately....Quill took a deep breath, and jumped off of the wall.
She spread her arms out, gliding on the cool air that drifted up from the sea. It was a sensation similar to that of lying on a mattress, letting the soft but firm material support you.
Quill pushed her arms downward and rose upward in the air, her arms shaking form the effort. As she ascended, she admired the light from the rising golden sun shining through her feathers, making them glow with a white luster. With a start, she noted that she was flying too close to the sun and adjusted her course downwards a little. The smell of salt filled the air and she laughed, letting herself hang in the sky. This was what flying was supposed to be like, unlimited with no boundaries, not cooped within the tiny walls of the city.
She had stolen the wings, had snatched them from the altar in the shrine with the help of her brother, Shaft. The theft had been easy; she had simply walked into the empty shrine and carried them out. Everyone in Icaria honored the wings so much that it was impossible for them to imagine someone wanting to steal them.
Quill smiled slightly. She thought of herself as being similar to Icarus: he had escaped the prison on Crete while she was escaping the prison of the city. She felt like they shared the same dreams and ambitions. The only difference between them was that she would succeed where he failed.
Icarus had fallen into the sea barely a mile away from a rocky island. The inhabitants of it instantly revered him for his wildness, his bravery, and his youth. To honor him, they built a great city and called it Icaria, the city of Icarus. They devoted themselves to the study of flight and birds, studying everything about those two subjects. As their highest form of honor, they made smaller versions of the wings of Icarus, simple enough for a citizen of Icaria to fly short distances with.
As the years passed, the citizens of Icaria changed because of their ability to fly. They became smaller and lighter, yet stronger and more muscular than their ancestors had been.
It seemed to be a forgotten city; no one had come there for thousands of years. The elders had forbidden contact with the outside world, fearing that it would distract people from their studies. This was why Quill had wanted to escape.
And now, she was flying with the same wings that Icarus had used, fished out of the sea thousands of years ago at the dawn of Icaria. All of her life, she had dreamed of finding the outside world that her people had been lost to for millennia. She was now going to fulfill her dream.
“Quill! Wait for me!”
Looking back over her shoulder, she saw a dark figure that was rapidly approaching. She hovered in the air, keeping herself aloft by continually beating her wings.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Shaft drew closer, breathing heavily with the exertion. His wings weren’t as big as Icarus’ and weren’t as practical for long distances, having been created with the intention of short flights.
“What are you doing here, Shaft?” She let her annoyance show in her words.
“I wanted…to come too,” he panted. Shaft’s arms quivered and his sweat covered face glistened in the morning light.
“No, Shaft! Your wings aren’t meant for this.”
“I can manage.” Shaft threw her a condescending look and set off in front of her.
“Shaft!” she yelled.
He deliberately ignored her, moving on. Groaning, Quill followed, trying to catch up with him. A growl filled her ears, so deep that the air seemed to quiver around her. An uneasy feeling grew inside of her. “Shaft…”
The growl grew steadily louder into a roar, and then it was there, so suddenly that Quill’s heart beat faster with fear. It seemed to be an colossal bird made entirely out of metal, with eyes that glared in the sun. Smoke trailed from its tail, and Quill thought that the sunlight must be deceiving her eyes, for there appeared to be people in the eyes of the bird. She was so caught up in the awe of the bird that she forgot to watch her brother. When she did, it was too late.
The huge gust of air that the bird made in its wake was too strong to fight against, and Shaft was caught off guard. He was tossed helplessly aside, and slowly, so slowly, he began to fall.
Everything seemed too vivid. She could almost see every ray of sunlight, the startled faces of people in the metal bird as it passed overhead, every feather on her wings, the individual strands of hair that were blown across her brother’s face. She screamed, “Shaft!”
She forgot all of the flying lessons she had ever been given. Angling her body downward, Quill kept her arms at her sides to give her greater speed. Shaft was so far away…
He tried to spread his arms, but the pressure of the air was too hard to fight against. All that he could do was look pleadingly up at her as he plunged into the sea.
Quill flung her arms out just before she hit the water, and pushed herself upward away from the dangerous waves that had claimed her brother. She felt her body quivering, and cold tears dripped down her face to be claimed by the dark water. It was futile. He was gone. “Goodbye, Shaft,” she whispered, and left.
But I'm back now - and I looked forward to reading your piece. I had forgotten how many wonderful writers YWS possess, this piece really impressed me. 
Way to go with the descriptions, I love it.
