ghosting | wilbur soot oneshots

open the book of a dead man

a/n : sorry for any errors this wasn't proofread but here's some ghostbur

880 words (minus a/n)

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rain. it was raining. the pitter-pattering noise of the rain drops hitting the window were the only thing wilbur could hear. he read through new books and rereading old ones. hoping to gain a memory of some sorts, an old one that would be new.

the books only gave him information he already knew or some that are interesting but not what the brunet was looking for. he knew this was a bad idea, alivebur went insane because of the negative memories and what happens if he becomes like alivebur? everyone will hate him. even with that in mind he searched for something, anything, that gave him an idea of the state alivebur was in and something that sparked a memory.

he continued looking until giving up looking in l'manburg. he'd already searched techno's house and the remains of logstedshire. finding nothing.

letting out a tired huff and looked around once more, seeing if there was a spot he missed. it was risky exiting phil's house, it was risky going out in rain but he continued walking, feeling his skin burn at every rain drop that touched him. then he saw something.

a hole in the ground with stairs going down, it continued looking like a tunnel. before he could even think the brunet dashed over to it and hopped in, running for a bit before stumbling himself back into a walking pace. everything about the tunnel was familiar. each step gave wilbur chills, chills that he never think he'd experience. this was the spark to the match that was his memory.

every step he became more uneasy but his feet moved him closer and closer to where the tunnel takes you. running his hand against the wall, focusing on it so he could feel the stone surface against his hand. each bump being mentally noted.

then the tunnel came to a close and the brunet faced yellow wool covering the end. it was horribly placed and wilbur could just shove it and pass by. which he did in fact do. the wool fell apart by the slightest touch from the ghost.

the tunnel lead him to an underground ravine. no light in sight and it looked abandoned. buttons were scattered throughout the walls, buttons that gave wilbur a headache. with hesitant steps he walked towards it.

there were no torches, it would've been pitch black if the brunet didn't bring his own. the walls seemed old. with scratches all over them, scratches that could only be made with a sword. there was a pit with dried blood on the ground and a tad of dirt in the corner of the hole. looking at it made wilbur feel sick but he couldn't tell why.

continuing walking he found an empty farm. the dirt looked like it was still ready to be used, water flowed behind the dirt seemly controlled and kept in place. a chest filled with potatoes to the side of the entrance. the room made him think of pink, a warm pink that was covered with blood red and turned cold. "techno..?" the name slipped out of the brunet's mouth without hesitation, his mind not even processing why that name came out.

up the stairs was a room or more so a hole in the wall fit for two people with a piston connected to red stone. for a moment the ghost stopped, staring at the piston he could almost hear faint sounds of joyful screaming. he missed that sound but ran away from the area and into a corner with signs. the signs just had names on them. names that he could recognise but couldn't process so he ran from that after a minute of staring too.

running up the stairs and not looking back. this place had sparked memories, memories that had been locked away because the ghost didn't want to face what would happen if he remembered. it was bad idea so why did he even look for the spark if nobody wanted him to. he found himself in a room that was probably inside a mountain. chests full of stuff that wilbur didn't care about in that moment.

there were tears streaming down his face but he didn't notice it. his mind was flooded with pink, red, yellow, orange and brown. techno's warm pink with cold red painted over, tommy's loud yellow that turned into a dim yellow with a green undertone. then there was brown at the front of wilbur's mind with orange exploding in the back.

he remembered why he went insane. why he felt like there was nobody trustworthy. why he pressed the button.

the brunet didn't blame him- himself. honestly he just feared he'd end up like that again. so he forced the memories into a book with burnt edges, smelling like ash and fresh potatoes.

the memories would stay in that book, pages filled with words of a man who lost it all. pages that slowly got more damaged by the flames. the final page having blood on it and being barely readable due to how much the fire engulfed it. wilbur would never reread that book, he'd act like he never read it.

regretting opening the book of a dead man that l'manburg once knew and lost.