Mt. Sisyphus
cw: gaslighting(?), death, blood
you consult the map and see a trail you remember having heard of: Mount Sisyphus, named by the Greece-obsessed colonists who named so many things around here
it's a short hike and is pretty popular with tourists during the summer, so you don't think it'll be too hard or too long
you start to ascend the mountain early in the afternoon of a sunny late autumn day
the first mile is a gentle slope covered in the roots of trees; you'll be at the summit in no time if it's all like this
but you quickly discover that it's not all like that.
the roots soon give way to a rocky streambed and an inch-thick sheet of ice that your boots find no traction on
you cut off the trail and pull yourself up with trees
you look up at the sky and discover it's gotten a lot darker in the past mile and a half of hiking
the trees are thinning out and getting shorter, so you know you're getting closer to the top
the summit can't be much further, so you press on into the gathering darkness
the view from the fire tower at the summit makes it all almost worth it
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
the steep river of ice that is the trail is to be avoided at all costs, so you cut through the woods around it, trying to keep it in sight
you step on a fallen tree, which gives way under your weight, sending you tumbling onto the trail
the world fades out as your head collides with a rock and you feel something warm flowing out from it
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
looking down at the snow, you notice a pair of bootprints going down the path you're about to take
you thought you're alone on the mountain, but you need to focus on getting down, rather than on bootprints that were probably just another hiker
you grab a branch to steady yourself on the steep slope, but it snaps under your weight, sending you tumbling down the mountain
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
looking down at the snow, you notice two sets of bootprints going down and only one going up
"it's probably just a trick of the light" you tell yourself as you take a deep breath and head downwards
you skillfully navigate the mountain's hazards and make it to the flat stretch at the start of the trail
you pass a boulder you remember from the very beginning of the trail and round a bend
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
looking down at the snow, you notice three sets of bootprints going down and only one going up
staring at them, you notice that they were made by the same worn Vibram soles
something is very clearly wrong.
you follow one particular trail of footprints as closely as you can, until you lose it on an ice sheet
at the edge of the trail, you find blood at the edge of the trail
taking a sharp rock, you carve the number 3 into the dark ice and head down
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
looking down at the snow, you notice four sets of bootprints going down and only one going up
you follow them to a message carved into the ice and realize the significance of the number 3 at the end of it
it must've been from your third passage through what must be some sort of loop
you manage to reach the bottom and decide to carve the number 4 into a tree
if if you can leave, this is just a tiny bit of grafitti that nobody else'll notice, but otherwise it's a clue for your future self
you round the corner and cease to be
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
looking down at the snow, you notice four sets of bootprints going down and only one going up
"bloody fucking hell" you mutter to yourself
it's 4 o'clock as you open your second water bottle and begin your slow descent
looking down at the snow, you notice at least a dozen sets of bootprints going down and only one going up, as well as notes carved into every surface around
as you resign yourself to being stuck on the mountain for all eternity, the dark clouds begin to part
you make your way down the mountain, carefully, as most of the good routes through the woods have been worn away by identical bootprints
you round the final bend, expecting to find yourself at the summit again, but instead you see your rusty car, which you've never been happier to see
FIN.