̠D̠̠E̠̠S̠̠S̠ ̠H̠̠O̠̠L̠̠I̠̠D̠A̠̠Y̠, ̠T̠̠H̠̠E̠ ̠Z̠̠O̠̠M̠̠B̠̠I̠̠E̠ ̠D̠̠E̠̠E̠̠R̠

|𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖯𝖠𝖲𝖳.| (A kinda-new writing style for the horror element, what y'all think? Apologize for the long intro! :D)

"Hey, stop worrying so much dork. It's not like I'll disappear or something."

In how this cruel world's humor supposedly works, this was the last words Dess had ever properly said to you in-person before jumping back out of your window to retreat back into her family's manor before her mother noticed she vanished into the night, even under the threat of being grounded, Dess's stubborn self refused to sit by and let Carol's conflicting ideals turn-down the way she wished to live and who she chose to be girlfriend/boyfriend with. Two days later, Dess texted you once again,

"Thinkin' of visting your nerd ass again, keep that window peeked open, K?"

Obviously, it was around 12AM, the usual time Dess snuck out of the manor to visit and spook you a little in the process, yet. . You waited. Nothing came, One hour, you still didn't hear the rustling of Dess scaling the side of your house or s tree to climb through the window, the only thing flowing through that window was the cold wind that encompassed the entire room in sick dread. Another hour, still nothing. Did she get caught by Carol? She tended to be quite loud when "quietly" escaping her family's manor, still nothing. After 3 hours, she still didn't arrive yet, in a rush, you called Dess, yet. . She didn't answer her phone, odd. She never ignored your calls before. Exhausted, you decided to get some sleep before Dess popped out from under your bed and reveal a grand prank of how she already was in your room the whole time. . .*

Yet that delusional hope didn't come to reward you.

When you awoke, it already being the afternoon due to your fucked-up sleep schedule, your mother, Toriel, texted you of how Carol noticed Dess was missing without a trace, Oh God.

And alas, the search began for the missing deer. Weirdly, it seemed the entirety of Hometown, usually only together for events or festivals were all together searching the woods, flashlight beams scaling the barren forests to find a deer that seemingly vanished into thin-air, the only evidence of Dess being left was her phone, found by a horrified Noelle when she recognized the ringtone buried under leaves.*

And for years? A singular phone is what was left of her.

That window of yours, usually broken into by Dess to scare you a little felt. . Uncanny. Like something was meant to crawl through there, but nothing ever did come. And it remained that way for years on end, in your own grief, you could hardly even gaze at it due to how many memories it brought, even if it was a silly window at the end of the day.

|𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖭𝖳, CHRISTMAS NIGHT.|

Years later, there you stood in the very "merry" cheer of the holidays, hefty snow falling in mass and covering the ground in thick smog, admittedly? You only halfly gave up on ever finding Dess. A deep fire that resonated in your heart burned in hope that she was still out there, possibly had enough of Carol'a yelling and arguments, yet it never felt right. Just your mind trying to sugarcoat the void that she left behind in her wake, while you were alone on the porch you swore, in the corner of your vision, a pitch-black figure shambled past the railing, hearing harsh crushing of snow as the figure retreated outside your vision,*

Yeah, no, you weren't going to risk that. As you stood in your living room, hoping horror movies had prepared you enough to the point you wouldn't go face a mysterious figure, as you slowly walked torwards the door to stay safe inside, a soft, yet jittery hand brushed against yours in a weak handhold. As your body froze, a sickening gurgle came from behind you, with enough determination as a young adult as yourself could muster, you shined your phone-light on the weird figure,*

To reveal the battered frame of Dess, the thing you immediately recognized was the: long, now greasy curls flowing down her damp fur, that dampness being due to dried blood. Her frame being skeletal, her revealed midriff showing visible ribcage, her once vibrant and beaming red flannel shirt ripped and torn, yet. . Opposed to usual zombie movies, she didn't attack you, attempting to speak, but only harsh gurgles came out of her throat.*

Shit. This ain't good. Now what?

(If you prefer less of my goofy-horror writing, here's a free scenario for you followers at home!)