PREMISE: a young sans questions his origin with his kind but emotionally-distant father, dr. gaster. part of a(unfinished) flash fiction exercise from a book i rented. follow along if you wish! i would like to eventually complete this one.
return to a piece I have been struggling to finish. center myself on its image, emotion, or question. free write for a bit on an opposite concrete image or action. add original bits from the piece. edit down to under 1000 words if needed.
central image: a child and caregiver on a boat ride, discussing their relation to each other. what does family mean?
opposite image: the impersonality of the riverperson, the emptiness of the waterfall environment.
The abyssal waters shifted beneath their raft. The "stars", distant and artificial, glimmered overhead, dappling the boy and the man and their host with dim shards of light. It was cold. Ironic, Gaster thought, how winter managed to slip through the barrier, but never summer. The riverperson shivered and whistled.
"Drafty today," they noted.
Gaster gave a noncommital hum in return.
The wetlands were a middle ground between home and elsewhere. An unfortunate necessity. Sans enjoyed the skylights, but was wary of the water. "Too dark!" He once cried. He wrapped himself in Gaster's cloak and begged to never be let go. He didn't want the surface to rise. He didn't want to disappear.
Gaster was never known to make promises. When working with theoretics, it is hard to promise simple results, let alone something as necessary and complex as the safety of a child. Witnessing this genuine but infantile terror, he opted for a neutral response.
"I have you. Hold on."
Sans' fear waned as he grew older. But the water was still opaque and unreflective, and it wasn't until his teen years that he inched further from Gaster's side.
The riverperson briefly stepped away from their vigil at the head of the raft, threading the space between their passengers. They adjusted the sail. Kicked muck from the portside. Sniffed once and returned to their station -- where the equipment declined from minimal to none. They attempted to ignore a crucial conversation between boy and guardian by humming a private tune.
"Moni and her crew were laughing at me. Again."
Gaster sighed.
"She said... she said something really awful today. That we're not a 'real family' or whatever, 'cuz there's no mama monster." Sans puffed out his chest... "I said you were enough, Dings," ... and deflated. "But then she said that was proof, 'cuz I don't call you 'dad' or 'papa'."
"You can call me what you like."
Sans shook his head. "It don't feel right to call you that, though. Feels like pretend. You've always been Dings. Dubya-Dee." He grinned, and then paused, shifting uncomfortably away from his caregiver's side, before remembering the dark water. He leaned back in and whispered, "Is there something wrong with me?"
Gaster's answer was sharp. Surgical.
"No."
"Then why's everyone acting like I did something wrong?"
phew! thanks for reading, or skimming, or whatever occured here for you. it feels nice to have posted these, even if they're not "up to standard" for me. they're things i'm proud of that i just dont ever see myself finishing. and i'm sick of em burning holes in my hard drive! this will likely become a frequent practice, as my fanworks are regularly started and rarely brought to completion. look forward to it! or don't! i'm not your mom!
[END TRANSMISSION]