The lone grave

The woods suddenly vanish in front of you to display a rocky hill. It is almost as tall to be called a mountain, but you can still see the top, just below the low clouds. What stands atop of the mound is not just any rock. It has a shape, a structure. This is not mere happenstance, but a construct, made to be seen from afar. It seems large, probably magnitudes taller than you, but you cannot be sure in the distance.

You step on the soft soil hardened by the gravel neatly spread out and begin you climb. One step after the other, the ground is easy but the slope steep, and it tires you out quickly. It feels like you've been at it for hours, your head focused on the ground in front of you not to fall. When you rise it again, you've made absolutely no progress, the landmark still as far as it was when you were at the bottom of the hill. With a look back, you confirm that you did make progress, the ground below far enough to tease your fear of heights.

You pick up the pace, the gaze now fixed on your objective, which finally grows as you get closer to it. Unfortunately, you cannot see where your foot lands, and soon enough you step on a loose rock, which causes you to stumble forward. When you stand back up, it is like you fell down to the bottom again, at the exact same position.

You don't give up just yet, trying again and again, but eventually you lose sight of the statue for a short moment, not even a breath, and all your progress is reset.