I'm back and writing this over again. Have fun.

Chapter 1

The dead never sleep. You are careful not to wake up.

The broken hinges of the gate swung, rusted and creaking loud whenever the wind blew through and against the black spikes. The skies were pitch black but faded evenly into grey just around where the moon stood high, lighting up the path and the most twisted of tree roots.

You stumbled up the mountain trail, hiccuping every couple of seconds as you kicked up dirt and scrambled for a foothold when you became too unsteady on your feet. In your right hand was a dimly colored bottle, reflecting light from the moon when it tilted just the right way. Warily your eyes trailed upwards, eyes narrowing in a feverish manner. It was almost completely devoid of dark clouds overhead, so there would be no thunderstorms in the distance for a while.

Leaves crunched underneath as animals peered in, yellow eyes obfuscated by the shifting trees and shrubs prickling with sharp branches. Overhead an owl passed, dark silhouette heavy and ominous from its lone presence. Ferns and other wildlife grew in large clumps, poking their heads into the pathways people used to reach the mountain.

The feeling of being out in the open without any form of cover made you feel bare, uncomfortable, and inwardly you prayed for a rolling cloud to pass overhead so that it could blot out any part of the forest you were trekking in.

Breathe in, breathe out.

For a brief change of pace, you had decided to take a hike out near Mt. Ebott. The winding dirt pathways all led to the same place, and walking alone for a midnight stroll seemed like a very good idea at the time. In fact, it still was a great idea: the warm winds rose up, not in a sweltering fashion but in a feeling of comfort, much like the shift from temperature during the interlude between summer and fall.

"It's quiet out."

It was true: normally the crickets would be humming, but tonight there was no sound except for the warm whistling of winds. You could vaguely make out the silhouette of a deer that had bolted from the sound of your scuffling, but other than that there were no other animals nearby, either. Maybe you've been a bit too loud in your stomping.

The empty feeling in the bottom of the glass reminded you that, yet again, the bottle was still empty when you lifted it up to take on another mouthful of alcohol. The lack of liquor made for a sobering experience by itself, and already the effects were making your limbs shake quite heavily.

You clutched your left side with a sudden shuddering cough, feeling along the skin for the bandages. You could've dodged it, but it would've been easier to catch him if you didn't. One mistake out of a few. You wouldn't miss the stitches for sure, but you did feel the slightest pang of regret at the traumatized expression the kid had when he came back to his senses. Nobody needed to see that much blood in their lives.

The alcohol did ease off some of the pain, but you despised drinking and this was a one-time thing when you kept waking up howling due to the excruciating pain in your side. All your remaining pills had been used up for the remaining kids.

Unfortunately, your grip on the bottle was not as tight as it should've been, and with your observation it fell out of your hands and made its way into a nearby bush. You nodded after it briefly, frowning. Littering was bad. You should go pick that up.

The bottle was wedged in between a branch and a large rock face that dipped below eyesight, blocked by various ferns and overgrown plant growth in the way. You peered over the edge, shifting so that you could sling a leg over accordingly and reach it, but you halted just as fast. Eyes widening, you stepped back a bit, skidding back due to your lack of control over small motor skills. You should be careful of falling in by accident - or, in this case, a bout of drunken clumsiness.

The feeling of fear returned, dull and thumping in your brain as it tumbled about. The notice brings you back even further from making use on your sudden urges, like jumping off a cliff or into a ravine.

You freeze in place. The rock you'd nearly placed your foot onto had come loose with your footsteps, disappearing into the darkness below.

There was a giant hole in the ground.

Markings scuffed along the edges haphazardly along the dirt, almost like rune markings. Symbols, some that were almost white in color when reflecting the moon's light, were written in a language you did not understand and had no chance of decoding properly. For some reason, the sense of dread crept up your spine at the very thought of getting close enough to read them.

They glowed under the moonlight, cut in marble white and eaten away through cracks and age. The color had long faded and smudged due to the moss creeping up and the dirt smudging the surface, but otherwise there were some parts that still appeared brand new. You looked at the older ones first, eyesight blurry and shifting.

The runes were broken in places, faded in others due to no one replacing the letters and chipping them back into place. There were symbols that looked remarkably intricate and far more complicated than you could manage, written in perfect script with every line appearing to be accurate.

There was an unnatural cut to the angle in which the hole was dug, almost as if it had been by a large claw with only the pieces left behind remaining. The symbol right in front of you, specifically, looked familiar. Three triangles, upside down, and the design of what looked like an angel with wings planted directly in the center. You weren't sure where exactly you had seen it before, but it was interesting enough that you wanted to draw it on a notepad.

Warily, you reached for the bottle and jerked back before anything snapped at you. There was static, whether from too much blood rushing in your veins or from imagination.

Nothing.

You hastily shoved the bottle deep into your hoodie pocket before picking up a decently-sized rock and chucking it. You waited for the sound of a telltale thump within the depths of the empty space, but there was no noise to be heard. Brow furrowing, you dimly reached for another one before you heard it. It had reached the bottom with a faint clink.

You probably wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't been listening for it at all.

Foreboding crept up alongside your spine, startling and adrenaline-inducing. The owl was long gone by now. There was a quiet ringing in your ears that would not leave, and you trusted your instincts entirely: staying any longer felt like a death wish. You needed to leave. Trespassing.

You scrambled away from the hole, shuddering harshly with a scowl. You felt a sense of ominous foreboding creep over you and promptly slapped the back of your neck to get rid of the feeling. Bringing yourself back to your knees, then your feet, you slowly began to head back to the trail. The night air was getting to you, you thought, rubbing your hands over your arms as you looked up at the sky again. It was time to go home.

Your clothes tugged at your neck. At first, the feeling was light, like the cloth had only snagged on a thorn or some short object with little to no resistance. You step forward and are tugged back again, the feeling becoming more and more constricting.

You yelped as you were held back by the back of your hoodie. The fabric was constricting and you quickly backpedaled so that you wouldn't choke yourself to death. You relaxed a bit with the expectation that it had been caught on a low-hanging branch or bramble, only for you to stiffen with horrified surprise when it pulled you harder.

You instantly turn around to face the creature.

What was supposed to be a human was instead just a dark figure, one hand outstretched and keeping ahold of your clothing without speaking or moving any further. (You hadn't even heard his footsteps approaching, where did he come from?) You squinted your eyes, unable to see very clearly as a cloud had just passed over the moon mere seconds before, and you waited until the piteous light was visible again for a ray to dance across his face. You rushed toward it.

"Who the hell..." Your voice gets caught in your throat. That wasn't a human. That definitely was not even alive.

There was a man - a skeleton - staring back. His clothes and his face appeared to be melting off of him, sloughing in small drips like black candle wax before re-merging back into him. Long white phalanges have taken hold on your hoodie, and as you tense he stares back with that same, horrifying grin, one scar across his left eye and another just reaching past his chin. There were strange glowing lights embedded deep into his sockets, and you were unsure what exactly they were coming from.

Your eyes darted down. His hand was composed of more bones, and instead of melting you saw small lines of code, flickering in and out as if being eaten away like a virus. You wanted to shake your head and try to clear your eyesight, wondering if this was a hallucination, but panic was starting to set in and you only had one thing on your mind now.

You hit him square in the face.

He phases through your hand, his image disappearing, and you leap back to regain ground and any semblance of intimidation, turning so that your injured side was away from him. However, with your attention entirely trained on the strange being before you, your feet never catch ground. Your face shifts as the sky falls behind you, and you realize that you had stepped past solid earth and-

Fucking hell.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...!"

The ground had crumbled beneath your feet, and so you flung a hand out to grab hold of the clothes on the melting skeleton. You were not going down alone, and you prayed to the lord that this skeleton was smart enough to pull back enough that you could be carried out as well. The grinning creature's face morphed into briefly concealed shock. He flickered - wait, what - but instead of teleporting out, his eyes widen as he tipped along with you instead, down into the abyss.

Winds flying, you fly backward as your vision narrows until the sky becomes a pinprick above your head. You can only grunt with grim disapproval as you hurtled down below.

Man, you wanted to go and see your parents one more time.

You maintained a tight grip on the skeleton's clothes, pulling him closer to look in his direction and making sure that he stayed directly and in your sights. Your attacks still phase through him, unable to find contact. He still seemed a bit struck, most likely by his inability to do his weird illusion trick. The taunting aggress when you attempted to fight him didn't help matters, either, but...

The thought returned to you, more solid than before. You vaguely remember stepping backward while the hole had been in front of you, and the skeleton had been in between. But when you did begin to step back and were sure that your feet would meet ground, you fell suddenly and your perspective had shifted.

"Who are you?" You ask it. Your grip tightens on its cloak, and realization dawns as the melting man now looks terrified. "Who the fucking hell are you?"

Before you could open your mouth, the surroundings shifted again, and you felt the sting of irritation as you felt your body begin to stretch.

"What-"

The skeleton raised a hand, and you tensed up, ready to dodge any attack he might have thrown at you. However, he simply placed it over yours, the hole in the middle of his palm pressing strangely against the back, and tried to pull it off. You shook your head, face turning in annoyance as he tried to get you to let go. You were not willing to die because of this skeleton. You heard the cavern open up below you and pulled him closer instead, curling around him.

You are suspended in midair. Whether your voice drains of life is because of resignation or fear, you can no longer tell.

The ground was nearing. You don't feel it.

There was only black for a long, long moment. You supposed that you had fallen unconscious at some point, and maybe shock had gotten hold (the fall should've been fatal), because when you fell unconscious you were unsure whether you were hallucinating or you were actually in an entirely different place of scenery.

There were sigils in the marble, markings in the stone. Abovehead there were the sounds of birds chirping, light and carefree. The sound of a child's laughter filled the area where you were sleeping.

A tree, blooming into a symphony of colors. Red, mostly, but when the season demanded it the leaves bloomed into flowers and dissipated, leaving behind the fruits of its labor as the continent tremored with joy, feasted in relief. The monsters stayed alive.

There was fire. A sobbing resident, mourning over a small grey tombstone. A golden flower, wilting under the rain.

And then you were alone.

You drifted in and out for a very strenuous period of time, mental state thoroughly and completely disjointed. There was the sound of crackling, similar to the sound of a large campfire, and there was a brief spark that settled at the center of your forehead. There was a flash of - something - along the back of your lids, and you briefly felt discomfited when it grew too bright to ignore, but then that settled down as well.

When you finally jolted awake, you felt a sharp pang of relief. The thrumming in your head was gone before your fingers curled, your legs twitched, and you regained feeling in the rest of your body. Your eyes opened and moved about once you realized you were lying in a bed of golden flowers (the ones in your memories.)

"What in the..."

You were still alive. That was a surprise to you.

Faintly you could see the outline of your hand, encased in the light streaming from the cracks above, and your eyes trailed upward as you frowned slightly. Specks of dust particles floated in an eerily serene manner, light spots of shadow forming where it blocked the sunlight from coming down. It was dark when you went up the mountain. You had passed out for more than seven hours. A day? No, probably not.

You glanced upward, still lightheaded and struggling to focus on the sky. If you had fallen as far as you thought you had, then how could the light still reach down to the bottom of the hole? The walls were dark and oppressive, lacking any form or structure and curving in like an upturned bowl ready to fall in upon itself, and you quickly got to your feet. You paused accordingly. Nothing was broken.

Strange, but nice. You'll leave that issue for later.

You trailed after the path, glancing behind to give the flowers one last stare. Nothing moved. You could feel eyes somewhere, assessing you just as you had noticed them, and carefully you shoved your hands into your pockets. You traveled up past the flowers and into the ruins.

The walls were dark, almost mahogany in color, but overall pleasing to look at compared to the entryway of the place you had fallen through. You peered closer, noticing that there were similar runes etched into the sides. These were lighter markings, very old and far simpler than the ones overhead. A circle with wings. A language you did not understand. It was difficult to divert your gaze and move past it, but eventually you did manage to continue on and down the hall.

Now that you were coherent, your ire towards the melting skeleton increased. He'd most likely gained a lot of ground. You had some questions for that guy.

There were patches of light up ahead that you noticed as you continued on. It made you smile a bit as you stepped through them eagerly, stepping from stone to stone. There was the faint sound of birdsong, but it seemed implausible and was more likely a trick of the mind. You blink once you notice what was off, hand coming up to rest against your side. The pain in your hip was gone, too.

The draft in the air was still coming from the direction of the opening, and its breeze lifted some of the leaves that had fallen across the patch of soil and shrunken grass until it all settled into place. The air felt mustier here, blocked off and hidden away far below, and you wondered who lived here. Or, at least, used to live here.

A yellow flower petal grabs your attention from the outer peripheral of your vision and your head instantly turns, stance changing. A lone flower had sprouted out of the soil there, harmless and healthy-looking. You take a glance at your surroundings again before it suddenly moves.

You stand, awestruck, as the ground around the plant began shaking as if it were straining to release its roots. Its petals unfurl with a swift (completely unnatural) movement, and when its head turns you can see two bright, beady eyes land on you.

"Howd-"

You flung your bottle at the thing and sprinted. You could hear the smash of glass shattering and loud shrieking, but you left no time to waste. Vaulting over a pillar, you ducked under for cover and picked up the closest thing to a weapon, which just happened to be a decently-sized rock.

"H-hey, hey, calm down, there," the voice said, but it seemed farther away this time. Good. "You can trust me. Can you, uh, come out?"

You tilt your head. The flower might be unaware of where exactly your location was due to the threat of the glass, and it may be biding its time. Ignoring for the moment how strange it was (a flower, you're fighting a fucking flower), you fling the rock somewhere to your right, behind a similar-looking pillar that would also have sufficed as a hiding place. The stone makes a loud clunk against the ground.

Immediately, five different thorny vines burst out of the wall and pierce themselves into the empty space where the rock had landed.

Okay, definitely an enemy.

There is a brief period of time as the flower waits, but nothing else responds. The vines slowly retract, and you watch carefully as you listen to the flower's angry muttering. Your eyes close and you continue to count down from twenty before chucking another piece of rubble you've found. It makes a smaller thunk against solid earth, but this time no thorns come.

You stand fully and creep away, making sure to stick to the shadows.

This all felt like a fever dream. In fact, you were counting on it being a fever dream. The lack of pain made sense as well. You reached down and pinched the back of your left hand, frowning when you felt the brief spark of discomfort. Well, not entirely.

Trust never came so easily. The flower's last question made you curl your lip in disgust, feeling for any scrapes on your palms from scrabbling for something to throw. Asking for blind faith from a stranger, who dared to actually try that? You've managed to read the movements that gave false impressions well: it wasn't hard, after watching people's interactions for so long. That flower had been faker in both expression and voice than anything you'd seen before.

(That often meant they had something to hide.)

You kept bandages wrapped around your left leg for emergencies. You unwrapped them with ease, pulling tight as you wound them quickly around your knuckles and formed a fist. It gave a bit. Satisfactory, whenever you felt the need for hand-to-hand. Unfortunately, these creatures seemed to have some sort of long-range fighting.

You hear the swift patter of feet against tile, and you duck behind an upright pillar. A figure emerges from the corridor, horns tipped back and sleeves drawn to cover clawed pads. Your heart catches in your throat.

It's a goat monster.

The flower and the skeleton are no comparison to the sheer height the woman has. Although all senses point to her being intimidating, you are tugged to your feet as she glances around carefully.

The symbol on her dress was the same as the one aboveground, something you decided to keep in mind. She gave off a kindly, maternal aura that the flower creature could not hope to replicate through body language alone: her shoulders were set forward a bit, as if careful not to be overbearing and watchful of smaller humans.

Children, perhaps.

You were no longer a child.

Once the creature had taken note of her surroundings and eyed the new cracks in the wall warily (you noticed the older ones as well: at least you knew where they came from now) she left just as quickly, robes swishing behind her. You maneuver around the pillar and continue on your way, one hand to the wall as you continue along the path.

The monsters you encountered were passive, mostly: you fled before you could spend too much time with any of them. The puzzles and traps were not too troublesome, but setting off the spikes made too loud a noise for comfort, so instead, you held onto the side as you dropped below or jumped over them using momentum.

Twice, you had seen yellow flicker in the corner of your eye, but when you turned sharply it was gone. The flower was definitely still tracking you, due to the lack of golden flowers further down the ruins as the light begins to fade. You keep yourself tense.

The brief fluttering of translucent cloth beckons you. You squint as you tread closer, unsure whether or not it was just a stray piece of fabric. A ghost lay in your path, eyes shut and snoring. Well, more like saying the letter "z" repeatedly without a pause in breath.

"Hi" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and the ghost jerks a bit as his head turns to you. Inwardly you can feel yourself relax. Seeing so many monsters around was nerve-wracking, to say the least, but this one seemed docile right off the bat: the closed eyes, relaxed expression, and the lack of nervousness of interaction. It's an innocent position, and you are briefly reminded of the boy whose wounds you'd tended to.

You lean back a bit so you aren't peering down right over him. "Are you okay?"

"Oh..." The ghost seemed rather surprised by the question, nodding forward as continued to lay on the floor. "N-no. But thanks anyway..."

You sit down beside him, leaves shaking a bit as you do so. "What's wrong, dude?"

The ghost is surprised as you sit down, but as the question registers he sighs. You've heard that tone before. You laugh a bit, which seems to cheer him up. "Tough day, huh? That's cool. We all have bad days."

"I..." He looks up at you this time. "Thank you...I've never had a conversation last this long before..."

You laugh louder this time, grinning widely. The ghost seems to smile a little.

"Haha! Well, I can fill up a whole conversation by myself, you know. Don't worry about talking too much with me, because that's all I'll be doing."

The thought comes through unbidden - you've had a kid like this before, a child you'd taken in that had spoken little but spoke through hands, and the caretakers had been worried that no one would adopt a child with such a shy disposition. You'd filled up the spaces by talking, and although she didn't respond much she seemed to enjoy the company. You'd taken to her with the ease of an older sibling, and she'd grown attached faster than anyone had expected. You'd appreciated her sentiment.

"You're doing great, kid." You gaze off into the distance a bit distractedly, unaware of the way he startles a bit as he starts and listens to your words, intense. "And you're gonna do great in the future, too. Don't sweat it too much, a'ight?"

"You're..." You pause, looking down at him again. He's shuffled up a bit so his back is to the wall, but he's levitating slightly off the ground. You have no clue whether or not he's able to phase through the wall if he's not careful enough. "You're a human, but you're so nice... Thank you..."

"It's fine, dude." You tip your head forward slightly. "I'll see you around."

"I'm Napstablook," he blurts out before you get up again. He floats a bit higher now, and his expression seems a bit lighter as well. "Oh no...don't feel pressured to tell me your name, though..."

"Call me Z," you say, your smile turning amused. Napstablook "eeps" and begins to fade away. (You wonder whether or not his physical appearance is connected to any tangible object or whether it was related to magic. Light particles didn't need to exist, apparently.) "Bye-bye!"

"See...you..."

The last "Z" was a quiet murmur, fond in its inflection, and you chuckle under your breath as you pass through the narrow entryway.

And all the while, the flower watches.

ok wow im writing undertale in 2018 what is this

goodbye