Well, I'm one of the many who's fallen prey to the characters of "Undertale." So let's give this a go, shall we?

Firstly, no, the protagonist is not technically "Frisk"— with a playable character, their personality is usually a bit... bland, and especially with Frisk, a lot is left up to interpretation about their personality and backstory (so that the player can make the character "them" and any choice made, good or bad, isn't "out of character" for Frisk). You know what I mean. So I added my own interpretation of a "child character" and put her in.

Outside of Frisk, I'm going to stay as true to the canon characters as possible— they make the story as great as it is, and I'm not going to "fix" what's not broken. Meaning that while I'll include most if not all game dialogue, I am going to add in side plots/additional dialogue that I believe is fitting with their personalities. Meaning I could be wrong. And it's totally fine for you to call me out on that. :)

So yeah. I hope you enjoy!


Mt. Ebott loomed against the clear summer sky. There was an ominous air about it; perhaps from the stark gray of the rocks, or the lack of trees to adorn its jagged peak.

Nevertheless, two facts remained evident. Firstly, this mountain was far from ordinary. It marked a pivotal point in history, as well as the lives of many passed and to come.

It was also a wonderful place to pick flowers.


Day kept her eyes on the ground, devoutly maintaining her balance. She scanned the short grass for a sign of her target— it couldn't be far, now. The path in front ended abruptly; a clump of boulders blocked the way, casting a shadow that completely consumed her.

She blinked, sizing up the obstacle. After a moment of pondering, Day rolled up the sleeves of her oversized sweater, freeing her hands for the task ahead. The girl took in a breath, then started to climb.

There was very little to cling onto; the rock was slick and weather-beaten from the elements, forcing Day to use smaller boulders as stepping stones. She stood on her toes, just able to grasp the tip of the tallest boulder, so she stretched a little further. Legs dangling aimlessly below her, Day tried unsuccessfully to get a foothold. After a bit more flailing, she was able to position a foot somewhere above her shoulders (people forget how frighteningly flexible a child can be) and scrambled to the top.

Day collapsed across her stomach, panting; she didn't expect this "quest" to include so much effort! Every other year seemed easier by comparison. When her breath returned, she glanced up, taking in the view.

She felt like she sat on the top of the world. There was nothing above her but sky, flecked with clouds that leisurely rolled by, just out of reach. The mountain air blew against her, cold and crisp, chilling her uncovered arms— she yanked down her sleeves.

Then, amidst her "regal" survey, she spotted them: wildflowers.

Day wasted no time, swinging her legs out in front, then with a quick scoot, slid off the boulder entirely. She initially landed on her feet, but then toppled forward from the momentum.

"Ow!" she blurted, more from shock than pain. Her chin stung a little; she'd scuffed it in the fall. Day decided to ignore this and move on— after all, a more important task was at hand.

With what she deemed a grim determination, Day stood and brushed herself off, then began to browse the many flowers before her.

Her first stop was the daisy patch. She used daisies each year, and didn't plan to break the chain, examining each blossom before adding it to her collection. Once she was satisfied, she continued searching: the primroses were left untouched, as were the dandelions. The foxgloves made her pause… but the stems proved unsatisfactory for her project, so she passively turned her head and moved on.

The bright petals of the poppies caught her eye, so she gathered a few and added them to the handful of daisies, still searching for that certain patch. It was there last year— surely it hadn't died out?

But soon, she found them: forget-me-nots. Day strolled over, knelt amongst the flowers and collected the best. Although they were beautiful, she liked them more for the name rather than their appearance.

After a while, she'd amassed a large pile, so Day gathered the flowers in both arms, found a clear spot of grass, and set them in her lap.

She began to braid them together into a strand, carefully adding in each flower, tucking in the stems as the strand grew. Only the sounds of the breeze and the soft swaying of the flowers could be heard, so Day hummed a tune, occupying herself from the empty silence.

Behind her, something rustled in the grass. Day froze up, taken by surprise.

"H… hello?" she called out timidly, her voice meek enough to be swept away by the wind. There was no reply, so rather than investigating the sound, Day continued to braid flowers.

A loud roar erupted.

Day yelped in terror, scrambling to her feet in order to flee. In the chaos, the flowers were flung out of her lap, so she hastily backtracked to retrieve them—

And found herself face-to-face with a frog.

She was silent… then giggled in spite of herself.

"Oh!" She breathed in relief, "You're just a frog." Day giggled again, "I thought you were some sort of monster!"

The frog blinked in contemplation, as if confused by this accusation.

Once the threat was neutralized (or rather, when she realized there was no threat to begin with), Day looked around for her flowers.

While she searched the patches around her, the loud-mouthed frog watched attentively; if he knew where the braid had fallen, he certainly wasn't telling.

She continued to hunt for them among the thousands of identical flowers, with no success.

Day made a noise of frustration—where had they gone? Pretty soon it would be the evening, and then night, and then she'd never get there in time! She couldn't keep them waiting much longer.

Still without luck, Day circled the area, perhaps overestimating how far the flowers could've gone.

Now several feet behind, the frog croaked hoarsely once again. She turned at the distraction, ignoring the path ahead of her.

Suddenly, the earth gave out from beneath her feet.

"Wha—"

Day was plunged into pitch blackness, swallowed whole by a large gap in the mountain. She reached out desperately for a lifeline, but her hands grasped empty air, and she plummeted blindly.

"HELP!" she cried out fearfully, deprived of her senses and speeding towards whatever lay below. The air whistled piercingly past her ears—it felt like she was being shoved upwards rather than down, tumbling head over heels again and again.

Disoriented and in a panicked frenzy, she screamed with what breath was left in her lungs…

...

In the flower patch above, the frog croaked quietly to himself: the only witness to Day's disappearance, and he showed no sign of diving in after her.


Thank you for taking the time to read! I'd appreciate any feedback you have- that's what keeps me writing! ^-^