Pension-Forbearance (4)

	A golden duplicate of Freddy fell into my office.

It began writhing, it's stomach bulging like a parasite, carrying life on the inside.

Five different voices cried out, as a golden head rolled off, and exposed a hole, whereas I expected a steel neck.

"The song" played again. Light shined through the joints of the suit, which didn't have as much material on it as the other parts.

I bent down, and shined my tablet inside.

Five different Freddy heads were playing their "tune" at the same time, their jaws moving them inside the chest cavity, and causing the fabric of the suit to ripple, like the surface of an ocean. Especially towards the abdomen. The gnashing of metal against metal provided a background to the track. I saw sections of the suit cave inwards, caught between the mechanical jaws. Transfixed by this performance, I didn't notice the now nightly ransacking of the kitchen, until the songs had drawn yet again to it's close and the severed heads had stopped moving.

I heard that damned rattling inside of the kitchen again. Buckets, pans, something metal striking metal. I flipped on the camera, an action that was now instinctive and routine, like brushing or catching the morning commute.

All three mascots were on stage, motionless.
Foxy was still behind his curtain.

The rattling ceased.

Placing my foot at an angle, where it would be impossible for it to fall into the abyss of the torso, I attempted to push the suit outside of the office.

The suit, despite being emptied of mechanical parts and re-purposed as a costume, was surprisingly heavy, weighing about forty to sixty pounds.  With proper distribution of my weight, I managed to push it outside of my door.

Most people don't understand the psychological impact of it, but darkness is suffocating. Stifling. Absolutely hate the dark, had nightmares from it as a kid. Humanity used to rely on their senses to survive the wilderness and whatever God could throw at them. Nowadays, the first-world takes it for granted. Maybe that's why people have repeatedly come back to this job. A sense of vulnerability within a hostile environment did give a sense of power when I thought I beat "them" at their own games.

 The golden suit was a lantern, the internal lights making even more of a contrast in lighting in the dark. I could only see about halfway down the hallway. Behind me were cardboard boxes,stacked against the back wall. I would've sworn that I had seen a mural the morning before in place of industrial concrete, but my memory's become flaky in the years since that one night. There are gaps of weeks, months, even years; where I am so close to remembering them, but they slip away, just out of my grasp. And it's a damn shame, because reminiscing is all I'm good for these days.

A good, powerful push with my leg rolled it against the wooden closet door, resulting in a loud, hearty knock that that echoed through the parlor. The right arm had fallen across it's shoulder, and combined with the prostrate position, similar to a corpse.

I hustled back inside of my office, and checked my cameras immediately, picking up the tablet.

The animatronics were still on stage, and the inert state slightly re-assured me at the time. Foxy had not left it's post, to my satisfaction.

I checked the camera at thirty second intervals for the next thirty minutes. The inactivity was only unsettling, and created an aura of paranoia, hoping to God that each time I check the cameras they would still be there.

At 2:46, and at a level of 37.56%, it happened.

I heard a slow and powerful groan to my left.

I saw the carcass writhe once more on the floor, flailing it's arms and legs now.  Like a puppet, it stood up on the balls of it's heels, as if controlled by strings, and turned to face me, through the door. The undulations of the stomach's contents created a disgusting mockery of the human form, the flabby gut tumbling in constant motion.

Paralyzed. I felt myself fading, a sudden wave of nausea and loss of reality, as if I could just float away. Or fall down, and never have to worry again. The night would be over then.

I saw more light poke in through the fabric of the costume, and saw it slowly tear and rip, as metal chewed through the cloth. Two eyes poked out from the gap in the stomach, like a lighthouse in the fog.

I slammed the door shut as I saw that abomination make a movement in my direction, and guided myself among the back of my office to the east door.

I collapsed, shutting myself off to the rest of the world. I sat with my back against the door, and did not look at my cameras for some time.