The snow covered the ground like a fine powder.

You watched as monsters rolled around in the substance, mesmerised as snowflakes danced their march towards the ground below, caring not for the sufferings of man or monster. You weren't sure how you felt about the snow, the way it seemed to fall without end, both offering enjoyment for those that wandered into it and at the same time burying secrets and history all the same, layer after layer covering up what had once been there. You wondered if it was possible for a monster to die on the street and be buried underneath the snow, never to be seen again.

It was strange how one could so easily forget their past, the way that history in of itself could be removed from the minds of those in the present, the way that someone could live their entire life, enduring struggle after struggle only to die without anyone to remember them a year or so later, their very existence forgotten, buried underneath the present just as the snow buried the streets of this town.

Then again, who were you to judge those who forgot the past, forgot those that had wandered these streets decades before you had even come into existence? You remembered nothing of your past life, not even a trace of a memory within your brain. Whenever you tried to push against the hidden barrier of suppressed information tucked away inside your mind, you could make no progress, find nothing. Though you were certain that the memories were there, the memories that could offer a past glimpse into the life that you had once lived and yet was no more, you could not reach them, as if they had been locked away and you had lost the key.

That part about yourself unnerved you the most which is why you tried to forget about it. You had woken up here several months ago along with two other skeletons, no memories whatsoever of who any of you had once been. You were certain that the three of you hadn't just popped into existence given that the two skeletons had strange metal plates drilled onto their hands and you had a similar scar on your back as if it had been branded into you.

But what could have the power to remove such memories from your mind? You often found yourself fantasising of who you could have once been, if you had perhaps been some secret agent who had been forced to give up their memories for some undercover mission, and only when the danger had passed would you have your memories restored.

Who had you been in your past life? You shuddered at the thought of having been some serial killer, but that truth was just as likely as any other option. One thing was for certain was that no other monster in the Underground recognised you or the two skeletons, as if you had very well popped into existence without any explanation.

Others had found your very natures strange, the way that neither you nor the two skeletons had remembered how to do anything other than walk and talk. At first it had been hard to communicate with anyone at all, the three of you having spoke in a language that was entirely different from the native tongue of the Underground. It had been several weeks before the three of you had finally picked up on the dialect and begun to communicate with others. Other than breathing and walking, none of you knew how to do anything.

The first few weeks of your existence, at least the existence that you remembered that is, were rough, having lived mainly on the streets of this snowy town whose outskirts you had randomly appeared outside of without any explanation as to how you had gotten there in the first place. The locals had been surprised by your sudden existence and insisted that they had never before seen you, though they had been more than kind and allowed you to stay for free at the village inn. There you had been able to learn how to speak the language that everyone else spoke, quickly assimilating into the local life and culture like you had lived here your entire lives.

You and the two skeletons had bought a house on the outskirts of the town, a house that the townspeople had insisted was abandoned as long as they could remember. And yet there were signs that it had known life in the recent year. There was only a small trace of dust and clutter on the shelves, as if it had been abandoned for only a short while and not for years and years.

The most peculiar thing had been the papers that were scattered across the floor, papers written in strange symbols that you were certain were familiar to you and yet you could not remember why. But even despite the house's mystery, you and the two skeletons had quickly felt at home. Even to this day you weren't sure why you and the skeletons hadn't gone your separate ways. The three of you held no obligation to one another, you couldn't even remember your connection with them.

But you supposed that your connection was laid in permanent concrete the second the three of you had awoken at exactly the same time at the same place, all without any memory of the lives you had once had. As far as you and they were concerned, the three of you were the only provable connection to the lives that had been erased from your minds without any explanation. Other than that there was nothing, not even a ghost of a whisper as to the people you might have once been.

Once the cold had begun to settle into the tips of your fingers, you grew bored of watching the monsters run across the fields of snow, whooping and calling up at the sky. Even after having spent months here, you still did not feel as if you entirely belonged, a stranger that walked amongst the rest of this world even when you could tell each and every monster apart by name.

You trudged up to the front of the house and kicked it open, shuddering as you brushed the snowfall off your clothes and skin and flung the blue jacket you had grown fond of onto the nearby coat rack. You walked by a small table and subconsciously put a pinch of sprinkles onto the rock pet that Papyrus had insisted on buying from a merchant in Waterfall, adding to the growing mountain of sprinkles that was surrounding the rather spoiled rock.

"Sans, Papyrus, I'm back!" You called, but your voice was drowned out over the screeching fire alarm that rang in the kitchen. This may have been a startling scenario to anyone who had been new to your home, but you had long since grown used to the chaos and the clutter. Papyrus had instantly taken a liking to the art of food from the moment he had set foot in this house and claimed the kitchen as his rightful dominion.

"Dinner is ready!" Papyrus declared, emerging triumphantly from the smoke-filled kitchen, wheezing slightly as he batted away at the flumes of smoke that wafted into the living room. "It has been prepared masterfully by the great Papyrus, the best chef in the entire Underground!" The tall skeleton declared happily as he set a burnt platter of spaghetti onto the dining room table. "An honour it must be for you and Sans to be able to dine in my fine cuisine every day!"

"It really is a blessing," you replied, trying to withhold your laughter as you took your usual spot, wondering if the food would actually be edible this time. You and Sans usually went to the local bar after 'eating' dinner, forcing down a mouthful of the noodles that were more like rubber than actual food and then eating something that your stomach could actually digest at Grillby's.

Sans came downstairs, forcing a look of sadness upon his features, though it was evident that he was withholding a fit of hysteric laughter as he took a seat next to you. "Why so down in the dumps brother?" Papyrus asked as he inhaled his plate of spaghetti, oblivious to the fact that his stomach would probably never be able to digest the food he was eating.

"I think our rock pet pasta way," Sans sighed, suppressing a snort as he scooped a helping of spaghetti onto his plate.

Papyrus began to tremble in rage, not particularly fond of his brother's puns. When the three of you had first arrived in this house, there had been a dusted jokebook lying forgotten in the corner of the room and the comedian had taken to it ever since, oblivious to his brother's obvious rage. "Fine, fine," Sans held out his hands in a gesture of peace. "I get that was uncalled for and I apologise for making this meal unpleasant when you spent so much time working on it."

"Thank you!" Papyrus declared, happy that someone was finally appreciating the true effort and beauty behind his fine cuisine.

Sans turned to you and the restrained grin on his face told you what was coming next. "(Y/n), can you pasta sauce?" You obediently handed him over the bowl of sauce, forcing your face to remain emotionless in fear that you would burst out laughing and further anger Papyrus.

"This is no laughing matter!" Papyrus shrieked, looking downright furious. "I have laboured for hours to prepare for you the finest food in the entire Underground and this is how I am rewarded!" He rolled up the sleeves of his chef suit in the midst of his rage.

"Woah there cowboy," Sans held out his hands as Papyrus took a step closer to him, looking infuriated. "You show any more of your bones and the rest of the monsters might mistake you for a pastatute."

"This is the last straw!" Papyrus declared. "I have put up with your puns for many a moon but no longer I tell you! I will hunt down your joke book and rip it into shreds right before I grind you into dust!" He screeched on the border of a murderous rage.

"I think we better get out of here," Sans whispered in your ear, realising that Papyrus would probably implode within a few seconds. "Fancy a trip down to Grillbys?" You could only nod as you tried to refrain your laughter, formulating a pun of your own as Sans linked his arm with yours, preparing to teleport to safety.

"Pasta la vista!" You waved in farewell as Sans proceeded to teleport.

"Traitor!" Papyrus screamed as your surroundings vanished entirely, the house fading from view as you and Sans appeared in front of the local town bar that had become your second home. The two of you doubled over in a fit of laughter, wheezing until your lungs could take it no longer.

"I was going to go with a chemistry theme for my puns today but - "

"You wouldn't get a reaction," you interjected and couldn't help but laugh once more, wondering if it was possible to die from laughter. You supposed you might be finding out in a few seconds. Sans seemed genuinely offended that someone would have the nerve to cut him off from making a pun. "You might want to hide that joke book of yours," you suggested as you finally regained yourself.

"I'd like to see him try and find it," Sans chuckled as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the book that had caused Papyrus so much misery over the last few months.

"He's probably going to tear your room apart, you know that right?" You laughed as you pushed the door open, the two of you walking into the bar and sat in your usual spots. "I'll have the usual," you waved at Grillby.

Sans picked up a menu. "I'm going to live life dangerously and order something new this time," he suggested and searched through the menu before finally settling on something. "I'll go with the double cheeseburger with extra ketchup, but leave out the double cheeseburger part," Sans concluded and handed Grillby the menu.

"That's no different from what you order every time," you shook your head in disbelief, wondering how it was possible for any living thing to survive solely by eating ketchup and Papyrus' inedible cuisine.

"Of course it is!" Sans protested, defensive of his lifestyle choices. "Most of the time I order just ketchup but this time I ordered extra ketchup." You decided that this was not a fight worth winning as a heaping plate of ketchup was placed in front of the comedian which he promptly buried his face into. "I could die happy," he mumbled into the pile of ketchup, not bothered the slightest that it was all over his face.

"You have fun with that," you rolled your eyes and thanked Grillby as he set a burger in front of you which you took a bite into, relishing the taste of edible food, a rarity when it came to your household. Sans narrowed his eyes at the sight of you eating a burger, feeling betrayed.

"Well at least I'm not eating a dead cow carcass," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest like the child he was. "You know that animals have feelings too. You should go vegan and stick to plant-based products like ketchup. It's the healthier alternative."

"Plants have feelings too!" You insisted as you took another bite into your cow carcass. "How do you think tomato plants like having a part of themselves ripped off every day so that they can be used for your ketchup? I prefer to stick to meat-based products to decrease the demand of the plant industry and thus save the lives of the plants that are so brutally slaughtered."

"Animal lives matter," Sans narrowed his eyesockets as he inhaled his plate of ketchup without any regard to the calories within his 'meal.'

"Plant lives matter," you shot back as you took a bite into your burger, regretting nothing.

"You know the hamburger buns are made out of wheat which is technically a plant product," Sans protested and you dropped your food, shaking at the horror of the crime you had committed this very day. Everything you had risked and sacrificed your life for had come crashing down at this very moment, every futile effort to strike a blow against the plant industry where millions of plants were brutally killed every day for your own consumption had come to an ultimate end.

"I'm a traitor to my own cause," you mumbled, pushing the plate away from you having lost your appetite. Sans curiously picked up the burger and removed the buns, not caring the slightest for anything other than the ketchup that was on your food. He inhaled that ketchup as well before pushing the plate aside, satisfied.

The two of you burst out laughing at the exchange. There was something odd about the way you saw the comedian laugh, the way it seemed strange that humour and a life of ease came so naturally to him. You had seen him laugh hundreds of times before, but each time it always felt like the first, carrying the anticipation that it might be his last all the same. You wondered if this feeling was a part of your hidden memories, the life you had once lived but could remember no more was bleeding through just the slightest, reflecting a time that perhaps the two of you had once lived a life where laughter had not been a luxury you could have afforded back then.

The hair on the back of your neck prickled for a moment, the instinctual part of your genetic coding sensing something that was very wrong with this moment and yet you could not figure out what. You tore your gaze from the comedian and looked across the room, trying to locate what could have caused such a frightened reaction from you. You were not prone to superstition nor did you frighten easily since your entire world was literally full of monsters.

You caught sight of a lone figure standing in the corner of the bar, hunched over so that his gaze was trained at the wooden floor and nothing else. Monsters danced and walked past him, all too engrossed in their own happenings to catch sight of the stranger in these lands. You had grown to know every monster within the small village that you lived in and you were certain you had never seen this monster before.

The monster seemed to be leaning on a cane for support. You could make out only his hand, constructed of nothing more than bones with a gaping hole in the middle, most likely a painful reminder of whatever trauma he had endured. But if this monster was a skeleton, how curious indeed that would be. As far as you knew, the only skeletons within the Underground where the two that you lived with. There were dozens of bird-like monsters and dog-like ones and hundreds of others that all belonged to the same species, and yet you had never seen another skeleton before.

"Do you see that?" You looked over at Sans, nudging him and pointing back to the spot where the monster had been. Only when you regained your focus to once more stare at where the stranger traveller had been, there was not a sight of him.

"See what?" Sans asked, chugging a bottle of ketchup that had suddenly appeared in his hand without any explanation and you were too tired to ask him where the hell he had gotten it.

"Never mind," you shook it off, having lost the energetic atmosphere that had once accompanied this evening. "We should probably head back anyway, it's getting late."

"Yeah," the comedian started but what cut off as a chorus of screams and commotion rang outside the bar. A knot of panic tightened inside your stomach and you pushed past the monsters, running outside the bar and stumbling into the coldness of the world around you.

A mob of monsters had assembled around the town, surrounding a rather tall fish-woman that you had occasionally seen patrolling the border between this snowy tundra and the marshlands of Waterfall that neighboured this area. "I ask that you all remain calm!" She shouted over the loud commotion coming from the monsters.

Sans joined your side a moment later. "What's going on?" he asked. You only shook your head to indicate your confusion as the woman continued.

"As appointed head of the Royal Guard, we will ensure your safety. There are reports that a human has been spotted on the perimeter near the Ruins and Snowdin. Please keep in mind that we receive false reports that a human has ventured into the Underground almost once a month and there is almost no truth to these claims. I suggest that you continue about with your daily lives and - "

"But there was dust!" A rabbit woman screeched, clutching her young child close to her. "My neighbour was the one who sent the report in the first place. He said that he saw a human child shoving a knife into some poor Snowdrake and they were laughing! How do you expect us to remain calm?"

The fish woman pinched the bridge of her nose. "Again, we are trusting the word of one monster who is already being questioned by the local militia. And we cannot be sure that he has seen a human for certain. One has not fallen down here for over two centuries and we have only scribbled stories to give us even an inkling of what they might look like. If a monster was murdered, it could have very well been a sadist that the monster immediately mistook for a human."

You were curious upon the possibility of a human walking throughout the Underground. No one had any idea what they might have looked like and you could only imagine. But what would you know, being only a strange flesh monster with no memory of their past or who they might have once been?

"Let's get back home," Sans muttered under his breath.

"You don't think there's actually a human wandering around down here killing people, do you?" you asked the comedian as the two of you began to walk away from the frightened crowd of monsters. "I mean, monsters don't usually kill one another, it's not in their nature. But humans, they could be a different story. They're supposed to be the one who banished us monsters down here in the first place, right?"

"How would I know?" Sans laughed darkly. "I can't remember who I was six months ago, there could have been a lot that went on that we don't remember."

And so the two of you retraced your steps back to your home, your mind replaying the appearance of the strange skeleton with the holes in his hands and the rumoured appearance of a psychotic human that was killing other monsters. You couldn't help but wonder if you were connected with them somehow, if these strange appearances somehow related back to the life you had forgotten and would remember no longer.

You pushed open the door and saw Papyrus standing in the living room, seeming to have forgotten the argument during dinner. As Sans collapsed onto the couch and began to sleep, you stood there, watching Papyrus move with an odd expression on your face. The feeling in your stomach was back, the same feeling that came whenever you saw Sans laugh or smile, the feeling that said that what you were watching was not quite right.

Something was very wrong here.

You watched Papyrus wave at you as he cleaned up the dishes on the dining table, already raving about how masterful his cuisine would be the following night.

But what, you wondered, could be so wrong with Papyrus?