The Weight of Forever

Sisyphus was the proud ruler of Ephyra but, as I’m sure you can all agree, that’s definitely not what he’s known for (”What is Ephyra?” you might even say. “Is that a side dish for casserole?”).

The thing is, Sisyphus was nothing short of a crafty old folk. Back in his day, before he became king, there was a crafty robber called Autolycus (a subjectively worse name compared to Ephyra, if you ask me), a son of Hermes. He could turn a hornless animal into a horned one, or vice versa, and he could make black of white and white of black, all while getting away with his theft. And since Sisyphus was an observant person who realized his herd was growing smaller and smaller on a daily basis, and Autolycus’ was growing bigger and bigger, he connected the dots (it also didn’t hurt that Autolycus didn’t bother to rename his “newly-purchased” horses and stuck with Sisyphus’ corny names like “Annabelle”). And so Sisyphus took out a Sharpie and secretly marked his horses’ hooves with the words “Stolen by Autolycus”. A while later, Sisyphus came around and did a hoof inspection on Autolycus’ herd, “Hey Autolycus! It looks like you’ve stolen Alicia over here!”

Catching the thief red-handed would have been enough for most people but Sisyphus was incensed. Afterward, he successfully seduced Autolycus’ daughter, Anticleia (if you’re as observant as Sisyphus, you’d notice that Sisyphus has a weird kink for things whose name starts with “A”), and so his appetite for revenge only grew. He had been born into the royal family of Thessaly but his brother, Salmoneus, took the throne. Sisyphus was given a prophecy that if he bore children with Salmoneus’ daughter Tyro (his niece) they would grow up to murder their father. Believing the prophecy, he raped and impregnated Tyro (whose name finally doesn’t start with “A”). Tyro killed her 2 sons after finding out about the prophecy, and Sisyphus was forced to found a new kingdom called Ephyra.

Having lived a life of deceit, trickery and craftiness, Sisyphus’ greatest crime, however, was not against men but the gods themselves. One day, the river god Asopus came searching for his lost daughter, Aegina (another "A" name). She had been taken by Zeus, as was the Olympian king’s habit of dating mortals for the so-called “thrills”, and Asopus, furious, sought anyone who could give him her whereabouts. Sisyphus, ever the schemer, promised to reveal Aegina’s captor in exchange for fresh water for Ephyra (the incentive is that Ephyra was lacking water). Asopus, desperate, agreed, and Sisyphus pointed him toward Zeus. Enraged by Sisyphus’ betrayal, Zeus struck him down, condemning him to death and sending Thanatos, the god of death, to claim him. They even decided on a punishment beforehand - as long as he could push the boulder up the mountain successfully he would be set free; but upon reaching the top, the rock would roll down again, leaving Sisyphus to start over (Bet the gods had a good time thinking of that one).

But Sisyphus was not so easily taken.

When Thanatos arrived with chains, Sisyphus greeted him with feigned humility and invited him inside. “Mighty Thanatos,” he started, “before we go, surely you must show me how your chains work? I have always admired the craftsmanship of the gods.” Thanatos, flattered (or just really damn stupid), agreed. The moment he demonstrated, Sisyphus locked the god of death in his own shackles.

With Thanatos imprisoned, no one could die. At first, nobody objected (if you were supposed to die but then you didn’t, why would you complain?) But then a big war broke out (Ares’ favorite pastime), and not only was Ares (after all, isn’t people dying the point of a war back then?), but Hades himself also grew furious, for his realm stood eerily empty. Eventually, Ares freed Thanatos, and with death restored to the world, Sisyphus was seized and dragged to the underworld.

But even in death’s grip, Sisyphus had one last trick.

Before his capture, he had told his wife, Merope, to not leave a coin under his tongue (a common practice back then) and neglect the proper burial rites. When he arrived in the underworld, he navigated his way to Persephone. “Queen Persephone, my wife has failed in her duties! How can I rest when my mortal remains have been treated with such disrespect? Without a coin, I cannot cross the river Styx. Surely, I must return and set things right.” Persephone, moved by his plea (or perhaps merely amused), let him return to the living and correct the mistake. The moment he escaped, Sisyphus fled, not returning to the underworld. He lived beyond his destined end, reveling in his victory.

And for the first time, he is truly free. He was immortal! And since only Gods are immortal, was he a God himself? He walks through century after century (giving up his throne just to escape death) like a man wandering through a marketplace, watching empires thrive and fall like merchants setting up stalls. He sees the dust of his descendants, and watches the world forget his existence, his stories, his craftiness. He scoffs. Why does it matter? He’s fated to die; and yet he’s escaped his fate. He is still here.

And time stretches.

And stretches.

And stretches.

If you’re still with me here, reader, you’re probably flummoxed - why didn’t the Olympians come after him? After all, the Olympians are known for their patience (and Zeus had seemed to keep tabs on him back then!). The thing is, Sisyphus was bamboozled as well. Did the Olympians know he still existed? Is Persephone still waiting for him to come back?

Eventually, Sisyphus notices a pattern. The stars look familiar. History repeats itself - new civilizations rise and prosper, with advancements brought to them by their ancestors, but alas fall to the same mistakes their ancestors had made. He walks in a straight line for centuries and centuries.. and finds himself back where he started.

Standing where he had been centuries ago, he looks around. Ephyra (remember it?) is no more. In its place is Corinth, a major industrial hub in Greece. Sisyphus sees names - copper cables (abbreviated as cc), petroleum products, medical equipment, marble, gypsum… He turns his head to the left - A large oil-refinery complex stands firm, marking the Athens metro area. The complex is amongst the largest in the eastern Mediterranean.

It takes him centuries to admit it, but eventually, he accepts the truth.

He is not moving forward.

Perhaps it is the way the world was written. Perhaps it is the price of slipping past the gods. But he is caught in a loop—not just of time, but of self. Everywhere he goes, he finds himself back at the beginning. He realizes that after all these years, the Gods have forgotten about him, and that’s why they didn’t come after him.

And then comes the worst realization of all:

He has done this before.

At first, he refuses to believe it. But the signs are everywhere—the faint memories, the déjà vu, the whispers in his own mind. He has been escaping for eternity, over and over again, thinking each time was the first.

And suddenly, he understands - This was always his fate. Not death, not Zeus, not any punishment the Gods could come up with.

This.

A prison of his own making. A cycle of his own defiance. And he, Sisyphus, was the biggest fool of them all.

---

I sit in a park, watching time slip through my fingers like sand. The world moves on without me. I have outlived kings and empires, yet I remain nothing. No purpose, no end. Just existence. And here I’ve stayed for hundreds of years, rethinking my life. Can you even call it a life? A life has meaning. Yes, I’ve escaped death. I’ve defied my fate. But am I alive?

Is this my true punishment? Thinking I’m free when I never had been?

I find my way to the cave where Orpheus once entered the underworld. It still stands, untouched by time, forgotten by mortals. But not by me.

I walk my way down the stone steps to the underworld, all the way to the fields of punishment. No one stops me. There are no guards, no chains, no gods waiting to drag me back. Because they never needed to. I’m not their prisoner.

At the base of a hill, the boulder waits. I place my hands on the cold, unyielding stone. It hums beneath my touch, glowing cerulean blue.

I look up the hill, and I push. The weight is familiar, the struggle instinctual. The boulder inches forward, slow, steady. For the first time in eternity, I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

And when it slips from my grasp and tumbles back down, nearly crushing my foot—

I smile.

I feel something I haven’t felt in an eternity. This will be my fate - not out of punishment, not out of force, but out of surrender.

Relief.

Because at last, I am free.

So, dear reader, tell me - did I successfully escape my fate?

AN: I'm Christian. This is purely fictional, and a retake on a classical myth