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L’Manburg.
His unfinished symphony.
God, how he dreamed of blowing it to bits. He didn’t necessarily want to, but was there a point in keeping his creation alive when it had failed its core values? His psychotic break clouded his judgement.
On a stormy night, only a week before the 16th of November, he was on a walk before spotting an odd item on the ground of a cave. A… piece of paper? Upon closer inspection, it was… a handwritten musical score. He read the title aloud.
”On Mount Golgotha. Huh…”
It was written in an odd, dark red ink. It smelled metallic, the “ink” seeming to shine in the dim light casted by his lamp.
He felt compelled to finish this.
Over the next several days, he had lost his sanity. He obsessed over both unfinished symphonies. The musical score and his L’Manburg. He had started using the blood from his arms to continue the score, blood flowing from his fountain pen much like any other ink, but much more thick. Tommy had found the paper and asked Wilbur about it, but Wilbur only brushed him off. He needed to finish it.
When the 16th came, the events that played out had left an impact on Tommy and many others. But Philza didn’t kill Wilbur. Phil didn’t arrive.
Though Wilbur would die regardless. Fate had its ways.
On the 17th, he would severely mutilate his hands and arms while attempting to finish the score. He pushed through the pain until the blood loss started showing symptoms. He pushed and pushed until his grip grew shaky as he passed out.
Later that day, Ghostbur would materialize.