One Man's Trash...

"THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME..."

"AND FOR YOUR ANSWERS..."

"AND YOUR VESSEL..."

"YOUR WONDERFUL CREATION..."

"Will now be discarded."

"No one can choose who they are in this world."

...

Falling.

Falling. Who knows for how long?

Only time to think.

Why?

The questions. Go back to them. Find the answer.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR CREATION?"

What had they said? What was the wrong answer?

"...hope..."

Hope. Hope is wrong?

But you refused. The creator thought of hope. Don't let go. Don't give up.

Falling lower, yet lower.

Grab that hope...

ENTRY 17...

That hope... those... dreams...

"VERY INTERESTING..."

...hopes and dreams...

ERROR. Discard process corrupted.

"WHAT- TWO- THINK-"

WARNING. Anomaly detected-

...stay determined...

****

No longer falling. Open your eyes.

Faint sunlight above, beyond an eerie shimmering field. The ceiling is rocky. Lying down, no pain. Get up.

These flowers must have broken your fall. How do you know what flowers are? No answer. Look around. Cavern tapers off into a corridor. Nowhere else to go. Follow.

Floor surprisingly smooth. Must be in use regularly. People must live here. Archway. Clearly artificial. That emblem looks significant. Its power shines- No, it fills you with...

Keep walking.

A flower, all on its own. Almost looks like it has a face. Keep going.

"Howdy!"

Stop. Look down. Definitely the flower, no question. Not surprising, surprisingly.

"I'm Flowey. Flowey the..."

The flower stops. Looking at you closely. Suddenly angry.

"Is this a sick joke? What kind of freak are you?!"

Freak? Hope is freak? No, you refuse.

"You're like me... you don't have one either."

One what? Was it discarded?

"Were you born without it? I had one, but I lost it."

Something familiar about the flower. A name. Connection. No understanding why.

"So did you fall down just to mock me? First you humans kill me and then-"

You say the name. The flower looks shocked.

"How did-" Angry again. "I'm not HIM. He's DEAD. I can't be anyone but me. I can't choose who I am in this world."

"...wrong."

"YOU'RE wrong, sicko! Now shut up and leave me alone! I don't wanna think about back then."

You say the name again. A vine grabs you.

"Looks like I have to teach you a lesson! In this world it's kill or be-"

Fire. A shocked screech. The flower is gone.

"Hello?"

That voice is familiar. Look where the flower was. A goat woman. Concerned. Familiar. Comforting.

"What a horrible creature. Tormenting such an innocent-"

"Wrong."

"I am sorry?"

"...not horrible. Troubled. If you knew..."

She looks confused. "Well being troubled is no excuse for lashing out. Anyway, I am Toriel, caretaker of the-"

You grab her waist, hug tightly. This feels right. Trembling. Face wet. A fuzzy hand pats your hair.

"My goodness! There there, child, you are in no danger. I shall protect you. Follow me."

You obey. Feels right to be near her. Someone is missing, not just the flower. That should be fixed, but yet it rings true. Perhaps later.

She shows you this place, calls it the Ruins. Encourages you to make friends. You hug a dummy. You were meant to do that.

Leaves you alone now. You continue on your way. You meet a ghost. Also seems familiar, but in a different way. You decide you like the hat trick.

Reach Toriel's house. She offers you a bed. Pats your head again. This is right. Rest in bed. Hear a music box plays a tune that is also familiar, but missing something. Don't Forget. Wake up to pie. You eat it. Throat tightens. Toriel reads by the fire. Fire is wrong, should be television. But you don't mind. You feel safe.

You go to sleep again. Disturbing dream. A voice that should be here tells you to stay determined. The vivid memory shine-fills yet again. This household is scarred, but those scars are natural. Unlike you. Can be fixed. But by you?

Time passes. You stay with Toriel. Uncertain what lies beyond her house. No interest in finding out. Her past scars intrigue you, but you have no clue what to do. You catch bugs with her. You take her lessons without complaint. She smiles. She emerges from the basement with laughter in her heart. She has purpose she has been searching for.

Eventually, so do you.

****

You are asleep. The dream is more detailed. More missing voices. And Toriel's too. The last one resonates. The number six comes to mind. You wake up. You know you aren't alone.

"Hey."

You turn on the light. Flowey is sticking between two floorboards.

"I wanna ask you some questions while the old lady's asleep. How'd you know that name when we met?"

"...your name."

"WAS. Past tense. Now I'm Flowey. But how did you know?"

"I know... a different you..."

"A different me? You're like that guy who... what was his name, I can't remember..."

"Gaster."

Flowey looks shocked. "That's him. But... HOW?!"

"I know... a different him... discarded..."

"Alright, buddy, gettin' real tired of the cryptic stuff. What's going on?!"

"...I don't know..."

"Well golly, ain't that convenient?" His stem twists, approximating folded arms. "So what's you're end goal here?"

You didn't know until he asked. "This house is wrong."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This house is empty. You are empty. That should not be. Family must be restored. To be like mine. To let the power of family shine within you... fills me with determination."

Beady eyes narrowing. "You got the power to undo six or seven murders and a spare soul lying around, kid? You don't even have one for yourself!"

"...not my place to right this world's wrongs."

"Ugh, again with the cryptic crap. Why even bring all this up?"

"...this is not my story. It is theirs. Yours. I am a mistake. An anomaly."

"What, like the smiley trashbag yammers on about? Thought that was me..."

"The pieces are on the board. I cannot reach them all, but another can."

"Who?"

"Soon. They will come as I did, but it will be their story. You will help them help you."

"Only one person ever tells me what to do, bucko, and I got killed for them. I ain't helping nobody."

"Since when were you the one in control?"

Flowey freezes. Those words are familiar to him. Not to you.

"I cannot fix this world from here. I must go. I will find my own story. When you and Toriel next wake, I will be like Gaster. Gone. But once I leave, I can leave them clues. It may take time, but things will be put right here."

"Suuuuuure. Good luck with that, freak."

"And good luck to you, Asriel."

A moment's anger, but the beady eyes close. Asleep. A grey door appears next to the wooden one. You open it and walk through. Your bed is made as though you never slept in it. Flowey and Toriel's memories are gone as though you were never there. Your time to leave any influence is limited. You kept Flowey from resetting by sheer curiosity, and it was just long enough. They will be here tomorrow. You make your plans. They will revive this family, and you will be free to find your own.