Chapter Text
Goodness.
Hope.
Charity.
Mercy.
Many people believe these traits lie in everyone, no matter how wicked or corrupt they seem. They believe that with just a little bit of effort from a soul that is pure, any person can become good. No matter their past, present, or future, they are able to change.
Now I’m not here to approve or disprove this idea. I’m merely here to tell the story of a young child who came to learn that some people, some creatures, are almost incapable of being good.
Frisk is a young child, only recently turning ten, and so far they have experienced only the worst from life. An absent father, a frequently-leaving mother, and poor financial placement has put Frisk through the wringer. They found themselves in foster care more than at home, and they also found out that kids at school preferred other kids with their real parents than orphaned children. Technically Frisk was not an actual orphan, their mother always returning after a long period of time, but it’s not like Frisk was able to convey that very well. Frisk was selectively mute, only choosing to be verbal when comfortable or in times of great distress. For the most part they used sign language when they wanted to speak, which then caused the kids at school to believe they were deaf. That only added an even greater amount of misery to poor Frisk.
But, despite all of these depressing circumstances, Frisk was still a very upbeat child; though it would be very hard to see that from the blank facial expression they typically had. Frisk was much like their mother in their belief that if you remained good then, eventually, the world would see that and be good like you as well. Frisk’s mother was not very religious as she was spiritual, and Frisk grew up learning that the vibes and airs you gave off would be able to alter the vibes and airs of others, if potent enough. So Frisk remained positive and never grew angry with the children that bullied them. They would help anyone and everyone, no matter the personal cost to them. The town recognized this trait in the child, and many of the elders and less fortunate were much kinder and more caring to little Frisk. Whether it be shooing pesky children away or giving Frisk a few dollars to buy the candy they’ve been staring at through the store window, the town tried to give as much as they could back to the little child. Frisk appreciated the townspeople’s kindness, which further fueled their desire to be good. Yes, Frisk’s life wasn’t easy, but they were content with the way it was going.
That is, until their mother finally started dating again. Frisk had not even been back with their mother for a month before she brought in her new boyfriend. While nice at first, Frisk began to notice small things change in their mother. For one, all of her spiritual items were thrown out, her boyfriend being atheist and not accepting “this kind of stupid whack job religious crap in his house”. Frisk’s mother also became more jumpy when her boyfriend was home, and Frisk noticed the bruises on their mother’s arms, neck, and legs that she tried to hide. She was also back to her old habits, and Frisk would often have to leave the house and go on long walks just to avoid the noxious fumes coming their mother’s room.
Frisk knew something needed to change. That boyfriend needed to leave and stay out, Frisk decided one day on one of their walks. If this man didn’t leave, he would surely end up ruining their mother’s life, or worse: end it entirely. Frisk shuddered at that thought and turned home to, hopefully, sit their mother down and discuss this issue.
Sadly, once they got home, they found there was no mother to talk to. Only a limp corpse next to a rusty needle and a letter addressed to Frisk, wishing them goodbye and an apology for being such a horrid mother. Frisk was not fooled by the note, though, for the handwriting was not hers. They figured it was the boyfriend’s doing after discovering her overdosed body, taking as many valuables as he can, and fleeing the scene. Frisk stared at their mother’s body, not a single tear being shed, before they walked over to her, kissed her forehead, and gently closed her eyes for good. Then they grabbed their bookbag, dumped all of the school stuff out, packed some food, water, a blanket, and a coat, and left.
Where were they going? They weren’t exactly sure. Frisk just walked their usual route and didn’t stop this time around. They walked past the shops filled with happy shoppers, the school, now empty for the night, and the park which was dismal and sad due to lack of proper funding. They walked through the town and far far away, about two miles away to be exact, to the base of Mt. Ebott.
Many legends surround Mt. Ebott and the reasons why no one typically goes up it. Legends tell of a great war between humans and wicked monsters. Humans won the battle and forced the monsters into a hole in Mt. Ebott, which was then magically sealed by seven grand wizards. Supposedly the spell cast on the opening allowed anything to enter, but for nothing to exit. It required the power of seven humans souls and one monster soul in order to break the spell. Though absolute hogwash to some, others believe that the cave is real and does contain the monsters, now angry from years of imprisonment. Some people have even gone up Mt. Ebott to prove that there is or is not monsters in the hole, but no one who has gone up has ever returned.
Frisk heard this legend from their mother, who was a firm believer that the monsters were real. She told Frisk that it wasn’t right for humans to lock them away like that and that, if given the chance, she would go down there and free them so everyone could be together as one. Frisk neither believed in the legend, nor did they not believe it. And at this point, Frisk barely even remembered the legend of the monsters in the hole. All Frisk could think about now were flashing images of their mother’s dead body and all the memories they’ve had with her.
Without even fully realizing it, Frisk was almost halfway to the mountain’s summit. Frisk’s eyes were glued to the floor below them, their thoughts becoming jumbled and hazy with memories of their mother. Little raindrops began falling onto their head, and before long it began to pour down on the young child. As the rain pelted the earth from above, little tears began mingling with the droplets that were streaming down Frisk’s face. They were tired, oh so tired of all this pain they’ve been feeling. They just wanted to go home and curl up with their mother and go to sleep.
But there was no mother waiting for them there, just an empty shell of a human that had lost everything to the end of an old needle. Frisk had nothing anymore. No home, no mother, no friends, no future, no hope.
Upon reaching the summit, Frisk collapsed to their knees and began wailing. Their cries echoed through the air; birds flying away at the sound of pure agony ringing through the dreary, fall sky. The rain didn’t stop as Frisk curled up into a ball on the ground and wept, letting despair fill every inch of their body.
Suddenly, Frisk heard a noise. A little, miniscule noise that most would probably not hear, but Frisk did. And it made their crying cease as they sat up to listen for it again. And they heard it again, still just as faint. It sounded a lot like...crying? Crying and...some words? “Help”? Frisk rose to their feet and followed the sound of the noise into a large, cavernous opening in the mountain. Frisk ignored the feeling of doom surrounding the place and how the stalactites and stalagmites made the opening look like the mouth of some horrid beast. Frisk followed the noise inside the opening and directly to a large hole in the ground inside the cave.
Frisk peered down the hole, making sure they were not too close to the hole’s edge. It was dark in the hole, and Frisk wasn’t able to see how deep the hole was. But they heard the cry again, louder than before. Frisk could tell that whatever was crying out was stuck down that hole. Maybe it was an injured person calling for help? Or maybe, just maybe, it was a small monster wanting out of the prison they were forced to be in. Whatever it was, Frisk knew they needed help, so they carefully made their way closer to the hole’s edge.
Now, I can’t exactly explain to you what happened just now. Perhaps it was Frisk’s faulty footing. Or maybe the mud on Frisk’s shoes caused them to slip. Or maybe they even used their weight to drop themselves in out of the pure despair they were feeling. Well, whatever it was, Frisk fell down the hole. And before they could even scream in surprise, they hit the ground with a harsh THUD!
A minute passed. Then two. Three. Four. Five, before Frisk finally moved. They rolled over onto their back and slowly opened their eyes. The lighting was dim, but Frisk could make out two huge stone pillars towering above them. Frisk felt the ground below them. It was soft, like flower petals. When they stood, they were able to see that they were indeed laying on flowers. Dozens of golden sunflowers surrounded by green grass were what Frisk landed on.
The cries rang out again, and Frisk heard them the loudest than ever before. They were close, whatever or whoever they were, and Frisk was determined to find them. Pressing their hand to the wall, they guided themselves through the dimly-lit room and to a large, carved stone door. Frisk gave a slight push and opened the door, and found an even darker room waiting for them.
Inside the room was a small beam of light, which illuminated a patch of grass. On said patch of grass was a little sunflower like the other sunflowers in the other room. But this flower was worn and withered; it’s petals drooping and it’s leaves slightly torn in places. Frisk took a tentative step toward the flower and jumped when the flower turned toward them. The flower had a face that looked just as worn and beaten as the rest of them, but they were still smiling, surprisingly enough.
“Howdy stranger!” The flower spoke, “My name’s Flowey! Flowey the Flower!” The flower’s smile faltered as it laughed bitterly.
“And boy, did you make one big mistake falling down here.”