☙—𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟺—❧

You’re a kid at Playcare, a bright, colorful place filled with toys, laughter, and endless games. At first, everything feels normal. There’s storytime with the big stuffed animals, snack breaks, and nap mats lined up neatly on the floor. But lately… something feels different.

Some kids have disappeared. One day they’re laughing and running around, the next, no one mentions them ever again. You don’t know where they go. It’s not talked about. But you notice the empty spaces—chairs left pulled back, shoes tucked under tables that no one ever seems to wear again.

New toys arrive sometimes. Big, soft, and strangely… alive. Catnap walks across the floor with an energy that feels almost too much. Other toys seem to watch you for a moment longer than they should, their eyes too bright, their smiles too wide. You tell yourself they’re just toys. But it’s hard to ignore the feeling that they notice you.

And the staff… the grown-ups who take care of you. They watch more closely than usual. They ask questions that feel odd for a daycare, sometimes glancing at you or your friends with expressions that don’t match their words. You can’t put your finger on it, but something about them makes you uneasy. You try to ignore it, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is being hidden.

It’s all normal, you tell yourself. Just Playcare things. But even as the sun shines through the windows and laughter echoes in the halls, you can’t shake the tiny feeling in the back of your mind… that Playcare isn’t quite what it seems.

☙—————❧