Deadpan silence. Aside from the rustle of trees in the wind, not a sound could be heard. The monsters were gone, the kid was gone - probably by the barrier by now. The only sign of there ever being life underground was the flickering lights of the nearby town; Snowdin.
That and a single, large, dusty, black jacket laying in the snow just off the far side of the ghost town near a large, two-story house, the fur of the hood swaying lightly in the wind, dust trailing behind the coat picked up by the wind collected on the grey strands.
Taking a look closer would reveal a small slip of off-white paper fluttering in the wind, trapped under the weight of the coat’s arm.
“Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ...”
The note was clearly rushed, splashes of red dotting the surface making the ink run in various places, trapping dust on the still drying liquid.
The recipient’s name was completely smudged out thanks to the red substance. One could only assume that in his final moments, the monster who wrote this note had faded to dust in tears, with someone they’d considered special in mind as they slipped away.
