Sisyphus in Pieces II: First Night
He didn’t dare sleep. Not here in hell. What if he slipped into oblivion, and the gods had the last laugh after all? He had outwitted them twice. He wouldn’t give them the pleasure of laughing now.
Sisyphus didn’t want to sleep. He’d never wanted to. As a shade, perhaps he didn’t even need to. What he wanted was a new day to drive away the troubles of the old. Another day had to come, even in this—ha!—godforsaken place.
No stars shone. He could see the outline of the rocks that ringed him against the flat, dark sky. Between them gaps of deepest black announced the presence of the abyss.
He closed his eyes. He would not go gently into that dark night. He would not go at all. Against the darkness he pitted the memory of every bright thing he had ever known—the colors of festivals and wars, of banquets and bedrooms.
A lifetime he went through on that first night.
+++++
holiday party…
missing a stair
in the dark