From Murder to Dust

3 - Time

I continued this for a while, until Papyrus expressed his undying urge to play a game with me. He knew I would never refuse one of his requests, and I didn't think I would either. He's the best brother ever. We decided to play a game of I spy, which Papyrus loved. I didn't get too much into it, but I would do anything to make him happy.

"I spy with my ghostly eye something black and white." He said.

"The pirate flag on my house?" I guessed. I hadn't taken it down, since Papyrus told me not to.

"You are very good at this, brother!"

"Thanks Paps. I spy with my little eyesocket something black and white."

"Brother. The pirate flag on your house?"

"You're the best at this game, bro."

"Murder, you're not supposed to just say exactly what I did."

"Sorry Paps, your turn."

"I spy with my ghosty eye something blue."

"Anthocyanin?"

"No; stop with your science terms, I don't know what they mean!"

"Sorry, Paps. I give up, what is it?"

"Your jacket!"

"That's good, Paps. Hm, I spy with my little eye something gray."

"Your hood?"

"Nope."

"Shadows?"

"Not quite."

"Oh, I give up, what is it?"

"Dust."

"I should have known that!"

"Don't worry about it, Papyrus. You're still the best. You're just so used to seeing through the dust, you don't notice it anymore."

"I suppose you're right, brother. I don't want to play anymore."

"Okay, Paps."

It was true, we had gotten used to the dust floating around our home, even before this incident with the lack of resets occurred. I had also been spending time studying it, and I learned a lot about dust. It was more interesting than I had thought: while dust did contain magic, it could not be transferred, which was bad for me, since I was slowly running out. Also, I don't think monsters always did turn to dust, but rather, something happened, causing that effect. Before we started dusting, we were like humans: just simply buried; that was a problem, since anybody who wanted to get extra magic could just siphon it from the body and take it for themselves. To combat this, monsters had agreed to allow a certain type of magic into them, which would make them slightly more vulnerable to attacks, but in return, we would not be able to lose magic after death. I thought it was a mistake; how were you even going to care about your magic when you were dead, anyway? And by the looks of it, I was going to die without magic. I guess maybe I'd be the first monster in a long while to not turn to dust.

"Brother, your magic levels are decreasing more than they should be, you need to eat something." Papyrus reminded.

"Yes, Papyrus." I started walking towards some food. Thankfully, while I couldn't measure my own magic levels without some equipment that I didn't have, Papyrus could tell me exactly what I needed and when, further proving that he is the best brother ever.

I ate some food, feeling the surge of magic flow through me. I realized that when you have less magic, you feel it more when you recieve some. I wished I could make my own food, so I wouldn't have to worry about my magic levels, but only certain monsters could make food that replenished magic, and they weren't around anymore. Plants that supply food with magic had stopped growing too. It was like without the kid's presence, everything had come to a standstill, and the world could not continue. Papyrus and I were the only ones left; even the amalgamates disappeared to who knows where. The ghosts in the underground either left or disappeared with the amalgamates. Paps and I truly were the only ones there.

"How long now?" I questioned.

"Five years, ten months, four weeks, one day, two hours, five minutes, and thirty-two seconds." Papyrus answered.

Ah, how time passes when you're alone. It just keeps going on, how fast or slow doesn't matter. It just keeps ticking away, and you knew it wouldn't stop even after you were gone, so why did we need to keep track of it? Why did I bother asking when I knew the time passed would be greater than last time? I bet if the kid was watching this, they were laughing at my suffering. Through all those resets, I never felt as lonely as I did now; even with Papyrus, I couldn't stop feeling alone. I guess we never realize how much the people in our lives really mean to us until we lose them. If I could go back just one more time, I wouldn't kill them again; I didn't care if the kid sparked more genocide runs or killed me a million times, if I could just see them again, just once. I was dreaming again; I didn't deserve hopes and dreams after all I'd done. Heck, I killed everybody I knew just for something as selfish as revenge.

"Murder! Focus!" Papyrus demanded.

"Oh. Yeah, Papyrus?" I looked at him. 

"Stay in the real world for a while, would you?"

"Sorry, Paps. I'll try harder."

"Good, now you should go to sleep. Your magic will stay longer if you do."

"Heh. Remember when you used to get mad at me for sleeping all the time?"

"That was then; this is now. Rest, brother."

"Okay, Papyrus. I'll sleep."

I walked back to my house, passing through the clouds of dust I called home. I guess the magic in them made them float around. I  wasn't arguing; I had no rights to argue anymore. The dust could do whatever it wanted to, and I was in no position to stop it. I entered my house, shutting the door behind me, and skipped up the stairs, proceeding to walk over to my bedroom. I lay on the floor and tried to remember the past; the resets filled up so much of my life, I could barely remember my childhood. I remembered Papyrus, though; he was always the best little brother. With a small, sad smile, I fell asleep, descending into a nightmare I wouldn't directly wake up from.

Faces of those I've killed? No, I wouldn't dream about that. That would give me what I wanted, which was to see them again. Instead, I dreamed about their dust; the feelings when they dusted, what they wished they could have done if I hadn't finished them, the mistakes they made, and it all filtered back to me. I couldn't see their faces: just their shattered souls, breaking into pieces. Turning to dust.

The last time I had a good dream was before the resets even started, and I didn't remember what it was. Nightmare after nightmare after nightmare, it just got so boring. I didn't know what I feared anymore. I didn't fear death, I didn't fear killing others, what did I fear? Everybody was scared of something, right? I knew there were other universes out there, with other versions of me, but that didn't scare me: they were probably having a great time without me. I couldn't even access the other universes. Other universes where I kill everybody? I was sure those existed. I hoped they weren't going through my torture, but I wasn't scared of that. The reactions of my victims if they remembered what I did? No, I didn't fear that. That was merely what I deserved. Papyrus leaving me? No, he would be better off without me holding him back. He'd still have been alive if it wasn't for me, even if it was in a loop of endless death. Did I fear being alone? No; if I was, I got over it. Did I fear the kid? No, I stopped fearing them a long time ago. Oh. Now I knew what I feared, it all made sense now.

I feared..

Myself.

~~~chapter end woot~~~

Murder bean needs friends.

Thanks for reading my distracted writing!

Bye!