~Nightmare~
Hiya @keeira ! I was your secret valentine for the DCA Bee Team!! Horror is not my element I admit, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you like it! <3
Wordcount: 3,700
Warnings: Fear, Minor Injury (it’s not real)
Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Your feet hit the soft padded floor of the daycare. The colorful vinyl is cold against your bare skin. It sends your nerves alight with each touch. Up and up and up until your shoulders tingle with the sensation and you have to roll your shoulders back to make it go away.
The daycare looks…different. Vastly different.
The humming overhead lights are shut off. The bright, cheery colors that make up what you consider the daycare are gone. Kidnapped by dark blues and black that lengthen and deepen the farther you step inside its grasp. It’s cold. So cold you can almost see your own breath in the shadows. That’s not right, is it? It smells like dust and mold. Like the play structures haven’t been wiped down in years, or played in for days. It clogs up your lungs. You want to cough. A daycare shouldn’t smell stale and dead. But it looks dead. Even in the dark, illuminated only by fake stars, you can see the horrendous state of what you know is home to hundreds.
Some of the glass windows have been smashed in. Netting in the play structures have been ripped to dangling threads. Little toys torn in half. Tables turned upside down and strewn out of place. Even a large cut-out of the popular gator has been horrifically demolished. You can hardly tell it’s him. And as you continue to slowly make your way towards the ballpit you notice deep tears in some of the padded tiles. The foam inside is torn to shreds. This doesn’t look like a place you’d find any kids. Or anyone. Not anymore.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.
It’s so empty and quiet. Why is it quiet? It’s so quiet that it becomes loud in your ears. Ringing through your head as you strain to hear even a pin drop. But nothing comes.The instinct to scream crawls its way to the front of your mind. To make some kind of noise. To make the eerie stillness go away. The daycare shouldn’t be quiet. It’s never quiet.
Where are the children?
Where is the laughter and loud squeals of fun?
Hell, where is the stupid song that plays on loop constantly? It shouldn’t be like this.
You want to yell out for someone. Scream and shout, and hope someone might answer your cry. But who? Who would answer your call? The instinct dies as you stand still, pondering. Staring downwards, you notice your grip has become pale as you hold yourself close. You let go to find crescent indents in your forearms.
Something feels…off. Missing. The daycare feels like it’s missing something. Someone should answer your calls. Someone would answer. You know this for a fact. It isn’t missing something, it’s missing someone.
But who?
You look around, finding yourself standing at the foamy castle wall that surrounds the ballpit. Though as you peer over the edge, you find there are no balls in the ballpit. Or, not as many as there should be. The remaining plastic balls are crumpled. Popped, and wadded up as if they were made of paper. Where did they all go? You wonder. They couldn’t have just disappeared. Maybe it’s cleaning day? But that doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t answer why they left the broken ones in the pit. Those would’ve just been thrown out.
You walk over to one of the colorful rainbow bridges that lead into the ballpit. Crossing over, you stand at the edge of the bridge for a second, before walking over to the nearest broken ball and picking it up. In the darkness, you can’t tell what color it is your holding. It’s a much darker color compared to some of the others, almost black. The next one you pick up is lighter in color. Holding them side by side in your palms, you think the darker one is blue and the lighter, pink. The next one you grab is darker. Then the next, dark again. Then light. Eventually, you find yourself with a pile of crumpled balls cradled in your arms. Each a different shape and color. Carefully, you carry them out of the ballpit. Back over the rainbow bridge, across the dark, dirty daycare, to the security desk, and dump them all into the trash can. There. The daycare can smile just a little more. You think to yourself, looking over the daycare once more. Although nothing really changed, you’re pleased to have done something for this sad and dark place.
Tick-tick-tick. You hear a quiet ticking noise echo around the daycare; the sound of something being wound up. It continues to wind, so tight you think it might just snap. Tick-tick-tick. You can’t figure out where it’s coming from. Tick-tick-ti-. Then it stops and it’s quiet for a moment. A soft, music box lullaby starts to play, seemingly from nowhere. It flows throughout the daycare. It’s beautiful, yet haunting. You follow the sound with your ears, looking up towards the painted wizard tower on the far wall. The music box sings from behind the drawn curtains.
You debate if you should go up there or not. You’ve been up there before, quite a few times, but not by yourself. A darkness clouds your brain. You don’t remember who could’ve been with you. You stare at the balcony for a moment longer, listening to the slow lullaby before making up your mind.
Slipping out of the daycare’s play area, you head for the second floor of the theater. On the way there, you notice that the rest of the daycare’s space is just in as bad shape as the play area.
The gift shop was closed, rollers shut over the windows and entrance. Tables were thrown over and chairs were missing just like inside the play area. Vending machines emitted no glow and were missing buttons. You make your way up a set of stairs, the ones closest to the upstairs entrance of the theatre. As you pass a series of party rooms, you can see remnants of popped balloons, and torn tablecloths. On one of the tables, there's a lonely plate of moldy birthday cake.
This place hasn’t seen anyone for a while, you think again. And then you realize something. A realization you should’ve had the minute it started, and a shiver runs down your spine. You are not alone here. Someone is up there, behind those drawn curtains, playing that lullaby, filling this place with music. It couldn’t have gone off by itself. The thought of not being alone here, or who could be here with you, makes your blood run cold.
You stand in front of the theater’s entrance, staring up at its large scroll-like sign with Fazbear Theater written in big blue letters. You find something odd. There are two unpainted circles on either side of the text, tucked between where the scroll ends and the clouds above, like something used to be there but was torn off the sign. You can’t remember what could’ve been there. You feel that you should know what’s missing. You can feel it, forcing its way to the front of your brain, and then it’s dragged back down into the depths before you can even picture what it could’ve been. It leaves a terrible ache in its wake, and so you give up trying to remember.
The power is off, so you haul open the large rolling door yourself. It flies up with a loud clattering shck-shck-shck. You walk past an abandoned and dirty concessions counter. It reeks of food; rotten pizza and overly buttered popcorn. In the distance, you hear a mouse squeak.
You continue on into the main theater. There’s nothing playing on the screen. In fact, there’s a large gash in it. You don’t peek over the railing to see the downstairs; you know it’s a mess. Walking to the other side of the theater, your heart pounds as the music becomes louder with every step. You don’t know what you’ll find as you stand in front of the peeling Captain Foxy’s Pirate Adventure Coming Soon poster. A pit of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear finds itself in your stomach. With an exhale, you knock. Knocking once, twice, thrice, you hear the click of the lock and the hidden door creaks open. The hallway behind it is dingy, unlit, and uninviting and painted a gross, muted orange. It reminds you of an orange gone bad.
The colorful carpet is crunchy with grime underneath your feet. You grimace at the texture. The music box trickles through the cracked open door at the end. When you reach it, you find the room inside is dark. You push open the door a little bit more to get a better look. The room, like everything else, is dirty and a mess.
However, this room has always been that way.
Boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous items are everywhere. There’s a little red and green play structure of a house in the corner, with children sized chairs to accompany it. Piñatas and vinyl colored foam blocks are scattered about. There’s a thin layer of dust blanketing everything, and large cobwebs in the corners.
You ignore the disassembled STAFF bots, and the wet-floor bot that lays face down on the floor. You never knew why those were there. It leaves you with an awful feeling crawling inside you each time you see them.
The lullaby still plays, and your heart still pounds as you walk farther inside. But there is nobody here. There is no visible source of the music either. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you inspected the room carefully, turning in a full circle until you faced the door you entered from. There, you see a blue plastic tube stuck in the wall on its right. The tube is wide enough for you to crawl through. Music, the music box, flows outwards from within. Crouching down in front of the tube, you peer inside. It’s dark, but there’s an odd, pulsing glow in the corner that illuminates the area. It looks like a room, similar to the one you’re in now. You can’t see what the glowing light is from where you are crouched.
Your hands grip the top lip of the tube and haul yourself inside. It’s a tight fit, but you manage quite easily to get to the other side. This room was a lot smaller than the other, and dirtier. The music is the loudest it’s been. It swells in the room, bouncing off the concrete walls over and over again. Your eyes find the source. An arcade cabinet.
An arcade cabinet?
The cabinet sits in the far corner of the small room, and by the looks of it, it's…running? But the power isn’t on.
Confusion replaces the anxiety and fear in your gut. Who turned on this arcade machine? You take a couple steps closer to the machine. Its screen is bright white, with nothing else displayed. It hurts to look at and you decided to look elsewhere. Your eyes find the top of the arcade game and read the name. Balloon World. You’ve heard of that before. Don’t you collect balloons, or something, in this? You haven’t seen this game in any of the arcades, is this one broken? As you’re lost in thought, the music box abruptly stops, and the screen goes dark. You squint, hesitating before leaning into the machine to get a better look at the screen. It was working just a second ago, why did it shut off? You reached up to grab hold of the side of the cabinet, when you glanced down at the floor. Your eyes trailed the cord of the machine to the outlet. Then you paused.
The plug laid in a heap on the floor, and there was no outlet. It hadn’t been plugged in.
Your eyes widen and fear trickles its way back into your system. How was it playing music if it wasn’t plugged in? Your thoughts are cut off by an ugly, raspy laugh and you shriek when something grabs your still extended arm.
“Awwhh. W-what’s the matter, Spitfire? You look like y-you just s-saw a ghost!” A loud voice taunts. It’s laced with static and an awful raspiness. Your fearful gaze finds the arcade cabinet’s screen and you find bright orange eyes staring back at you. It giggles at you with a wide toothy maw. “ Scaaared?” It taunts you again.
An eclipsed sun had overtaken the screen of Balloon World. A dark face with bright orange rays that looked razor sharp. And currently, it somehow had a hand outside the arcade cabinet and was pulling you closer. The hand was dark as well, and horribly disorienting to look at. It fizzled and buzzed with static — you could feel it against your skin, it almost burned — it looked like it didn’t belong, like it shouldn’t exist. Another shot out from the machine’s screen, reaching out for you. You screamed, pulling at the first one, desperately trying to pry it off.
“Let go!” You yelled. All it did was laugh at you as its other hand grabbed yours, halting your attempts. It dragged you closer and closer to the arcade cabinet. Your heart skips a beat as it clicks what’s happening. It’s trying to pull you in. Inside the cabinet.
You tried to pull yourself out of its hands, a new wave of adrenaline washing over you. “C-c’mon, Spitfire! I d-d-don’t bite,” It tried to assure you. But the smile that grew and contorted across its face said the opposite. You shook your head at its words and continued to struggle in its grasp but it wouldn’t let go. Whatever this thing was, was big and very strong. It’s hand wrapped fully around your bicep, and the other practically enclosed your hand in its palm. It was futile trying to fight it.
“Let me go! Please!” You begged. Your foot hit the base of the arcade cabinet. Then the other. Your body lurched forward with a painful tug. You fervently fought against it, but it was a losing battle. Another hand rose suddenly from the slanted screen and grabbed the underside of your face. “Oh, Spitfire~” It cackled out the nickname with glee. It jerked your head towards the screen. “Why don’t you come inside?” It asked, like it was a friend inviting you into its home. You looked into the screen, just mere inches away from your face, its bright orange eyes bore into yours. You resisted, yanking your head back and away from it, twisting every which way. This finally seemed to annoy the creature inside the machine.
Its smile fell, losing the act as it tilted its head to the side, and then it was suddenly closer than ever to the screen. All you could see were those glowing eyes. There was a dark and frustrated look inside them. “I said come inside.” It snarled at you. And then its grip on you tightened. Digging into the fat of your cheeks, crushing the bones of your hand together, bruising the flesh of your arm, as it doubles its attempt to drag you in. This time, you couldn’t fight against it.
It felt like time slowed down as you fought hopelessly. Pleading, praying, to not lose this game of tug-of-war. No! You tried to yell, like it would do something. No! No, no, no, no- Your cheek pressed against the screen of the arcade cabinet after what felt like hours of resisting, and you screamed. It burned. It felt like your skin was melting. Static buzzed inside your ear. Your vision blurred as you felt the screen give out, and you felt yourself slipping through into the abyss of the arcade machine.
Please! Someone save me!
Your screams cut off as the rest of your body vanished into the cabinet.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And then you woke up.
With a jolt, you lurched up from your rest. A cough burst from your windpipe after a gasp much too sharp for your poor body.
“Are you alright?” A soft, raspy voice sounded. Then there was a hand on the small of your back and you shrieked. You jumped up and away from the figure and curled up in the nearest corner.
“Get away! Don’t touch me!” You yelled, fists raised and ready to attack.
“Starlight?” The voice called, concern filling the single world. Your eyes darted toward the source. Red eyes shone across the room. A single hand reached out for you. “Starlight, what’s wrong?” They asked, it was almost a whisper, like they were afraid to spook you even more.
“Moon?” You questioned, lowering your hands.
“Yes. It’s me,” Moon nodded, his hat jingling along with the motion. “I promise it is.” He offered his hand to you. You wanted to sob in relief at the sight. Tears pooled in your eyes as you practically jumped into the bed you had flown from moments earlier. Wrapping your arms tightly around Moon’s torso, you let yourself sob into his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Moon. I didn’t realize it was you.” You mumbled. He hummed soothingly in response, wrapping an arm around your torso while the other rubbed your back in small circles. “It’s okay, my little star. It’s okay. There is no reason to apologize.” He spoke quietly. The hand circling your back took your cheek instead. You obliged, letting it guide you away from Moon’s shoulder to meet his eyes. His eyes softened as he took in your tear streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. “Did you have a nightmare?” The animatronic asked you, wiping at your face. You nodded with a sniffle. Another sob tore its way through you and you cried into Moon’s hands. “Shhh…shhh…It’s okay, you’re okay,” Moon comforted. “I’ve got you, I'm here.” He ran a hand soothingly through your hair as you collected yourself enough to speak.
“It was so horrible. The daycare was a mess, a-and I couldn’t remember you. O-or Sun! And then there was this lullaby, and I followed it into your room, and-” Your rambling paused as you thought of something. Something that pooled dread in your gut. “Moon?” You whispered his name, afraid.
“Yes, Starlight?” He whispered back with a tilt of his head. You caught the bell on the end of his hat before it could even make a sound.
“Is there an arcade cabinet in there?” You looked dead into Moon’s eyes as you asked this. You pointed a finger gingerly towards the hole in the wall. His eyes followed your hand, then flickered downward as he noticed your tightening hold on him. You couldn’t read his expression as his eyes met yours again. His optics held no thought as he stared back at you, processing what you had just asked. You were afraid of what he was going to say as another second of silence passed, then he spoke.
“No, my love. There is not an arcade cabinet in there,” He assured you, with a gentle stroke to your cheek.
You sighed happily at that — you didn’t even know you were holding your breath —, content with his answer. Moon seemed to understand this as you draped your hand gently over his hand still on your cheek, turning your head to place a kiss on his palm. The animatronic purred softly at the affection.
“Do you think you can sleep again?” He rumbled out. He kissed your forehead as he said this, returning your affection. You took a second, before nodding. “I think so.” “Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” “You’re not going to stay the entire time?” “I still have a job to do, Starlight; rounds to make. I’ll be back before you know it,” He smiled at you, petting your head apologetically as you pouted. “But I can stay for now, if you’d like. ” You returned his smile with a small one of your own.
“Yes, please.”
Moon laid down with you until you managed to fall back asleep. He stroked your back and kissed your shoulders lovingly, whispering comforts to you as he attempted to coax you back to sleep. At one point, he started to wind up the music box inside his chassis but you stopped him, placing your hands on his chest. It was too fresh in your mind.
He laid there as he felt your breath even out, your hand that gripped his loosened ever so slightly, and he knew you had finally succumbed. A red hue dusted your face as Moon’s eyes watched you for a moment longer. He leaned in, kissing your cheek once before gently prying himself out of your grip and leaving the bed.
Moon’s movement made no sound, not even the bells on his feet jingled, as he tiptoed across the room, easily stepping past and over the little toys and pillows and other things that littered the floor. The animatronic crouched down in front of the blue tube in the wall. He slipped his upper half inside easily, supporting his weight on his hands and feet.
There, in the corner of the small concrete room was an arcade cabinet. A Balloon World arcade cabinet.
Moon stared at the arcade cabinet, long and hard. Like maybe that would scare it off. The machine wasn’t plugged in, its screen dark and covered in dust. Moon hated coming in here. There was a reason they told you to not come in here. And they appreciated that you never questioned it, agreeing to respect their boundaries. Oh the things they’d do for you. To keep you safe. You were wonderful and oh so nice to them. They didn’t deserve you.
Moon kept his eyes on the arcade cabinet before speaking in a low tone, a warning. “Don’t do that again.” He growled, addressing the machine. He was quiet, sure to not disturb you, but it still held that stern coldness. “I’ll dismantle you if I have to,” He threatened. “Do you understand?”
The only thing he got in response was a long staticky giggle. One that promised it did understand, but didn’t care.