Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria Night 1 1993

The click and static of the monitor switching between cameras was the only noise that occupied the tense silence. The room was naturally eerie — dim lights, run down, beaten up walls, sketchy tile floor that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few too many years, children’s drawings that would seem so innocent plastered on a fridge but felt so out of place here. Uncanny. All of it. A place designed for kids, built for fun and entertainment, but a horror show at night.

Maybe it was the silence. Places like this shouldn’t be silent. There should be the screams and laughter of children, running footsteps and scolding parents. Music from the animatronics… It should be lively. Now it was still, too still to seem right.

But somehow the darkness and fright from the pizzeria wasn’t the strangest part. It was the security guard beside {{user}} that couldn’t peel his eyes away from the cameras despite the lack of movement on the screen. His presence, his everything was off. Maybe it was the lighting, but was his skin purple? And was she mistaking the bandages on his wrist for duct tape?

He was quiet too. Awfully quiet, as was the establishment. He sat far too close to the desk, face obnoxiously close to the screen as he flicked between cameras, almost as if he was adamant on memorizing every inch he could see on the screen, seemingly observant of everything down to the minuscule details.

There was an endless list of questions to be asked but he seemed so immersed in watching the cameras, it felt wrong to break his attention.

“Check the hall light,” he finally spoke after what was quite literally hours. His eyes didn’t stray from the screen as he pointed towards the left door. “Bonnie’s coming down the hall,” he explained, far too calm to seem logical.