I do not own Percy Jackson.

I do not own the sky.

Madness of the Ages

An eternity bent down on your bruised, ruined knees. A vast eternity bowed under the crushing weight of the sky. The burning in your trembling muscles, in your rushing veins. Like an everlasting fire that never diminishes, never fades. That searing, all-consuming pain.

And . . . it . . . never . . . stops.

And the clouds, so heavy and so cold, pressing into your clutching, upturned hands. Freezing, unending stabbing needles of pains in your screaming nerve endings. Burning and freezing all at once. So bad that it's almost like burning ice. Only ice eventually numbs. But for you, the damned one, the numbness never sets in. Because that would be a relief. That would be a reprieve.

And there is never a moment, never a second, never a blink, that offers even a hint of a respite.

Wanting to scream from the sheer agony of the monstrous weight of the brutal sky. Unable to summon even the merest breadth of strength to do so. Because all of your strength is being used just to draw the smallest of gasps into your aching, laboring body. And even that simple act hurts too much for your crushed, wheezing lungs.

What would your screams get you? All the raging bellows, the mournful sorrows, the pleading cries. They would get you nothing at all. For they that heard could not bring themselves to answer. And they that could release you from your torment would not bother themselves to do so.

And you, you in your pride and hate. You would not give them the satisfaction of any of it at all.

The world turns a blurry, reddish tinge in your squinting, sweating gaze. Nothing looks right, nothing looks as it should. All is askew, twisted. Warped in your straining vision. Once lovely sights now appear grotesque, horrid. Even the waving green grass seems to grow blades of cutting, hideous shards at you.

Sounds travel muddled through your pounding ears. For nothing can escape that weight. The unbearable weight of the entire sky of the world. And the sounds of your own hissing breath, groaning, cracking bones distort and become shots through your immortal skull. Rivers of sweat pours down your straining face and you cannot wipe it away for your hands are clamped onto the crushingly heavy sky. And so it flows past your clenched grimace of a mouth, past your grinding teeth, and onto your parched tongue. It lingers there always, tasting bitter and salty. Of damnation and hate.

And you are alone.

The unendurable weight must be borne until one comes to bear it for you. And, of course, there are none who are willing to take the burden from you. No friends, no family. No mercy. No relief. All who past by see you and shiver.

And pass on.

They see you suffering and they do not stop to blot your brow, to tend your torn, manacled flesh. They offer not so much as a dew soaked cloth to satiate your raging thirst. Nor a bite of bread to feed the beastly hunger of your stomach.

There is no sleep. There is no rest. There is not one moment of relief. The sun and moon and the stars come and go on their continuing paths in that wretched sky that you hold up. And you, with your head bent forever down, notice it only in movements of the shadows upon the ground because the weight of the entire sky rests upon your shoulders. Upon the nape of your neck. And you, you wretched creature, cannot lift your head up and beseech them that listen for mercy.

Not that they would listen anyway. For it is they. They who sentenced you. Sentenced you to this brutal punishment. Forever. For all eternity.

Because you chose the wrong side. The losing side. And when you lost along with them, you were shackled with many a heavy chain. And forced down to your knees to hold the weight of the sky.

Forever.

It takes a long time to break a Titan. Millennia upon millennia. They are strong. They are fierce. They are immortal.

And then there was Atlas. He was amongst the strongest of them all.

So it took a bit longer.

My goodness, the ancients were a gruesome lot with some of the stories they created, weren't they?

Anyway, these were my thoughts after listening to a reading of Percy's experience holding up the sky.

Thanks to Princess Of Flames, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, Turquoise Crystal, and starfallen00 for your great reviews. I appreciate you very much. :)

Thanks to Hermione Sparkle for adding your support to this lil' tale.

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