☙—𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙴 𝟸𝟼 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻—❧

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza buzzes with life — bright lights flicker overhead, colorful posters peel at the corners, and the air smells like warm cheese, old carpet, and something faintly metallic.

Children run between arcade cabinets. Balloons float lazily against the ceiling. Laughter echoes through the dining area as the animatronics perform on stage — their smiles frozen, their eyes following the room just a little too closely.

You stand near the back, close to the party tables, when you notice something strange.

One child isn’t laughing.

They’re standing still, staring toward the hallway marked “Staff Only.”

A tall figure steps out from the shadows — a mascot costume, bright and cheerful, but… wrong in subtle ways. The movements are too slow. Too deliberate. The eyes behind the mask aren’t visible.

The figure kneels down.

They whisper something you can’t hear.

The child hesitates.

Then nods.

They take the figure’s hand.

Your stomach twists as you watch them walk together toward the dim hallway. The hallway light flickers as the door slides open… and then shuts behind them with a soft, mechanical click.

No screaming. No struggle. Just silence.

Around you, the party continues like nothing happened. But you felt something was wrong, very wrong. You catched yourself several times glancing at the door, you wanted to see what happened to the kid. But you couldn't help feel hesitant.

☙—————❧