Ghost Stories

It was a stormy night at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. Rain pounded against the restaurant’s windows in sheets, and thunder rolled, deep and long. The power had gone out with the arrival of the terrible weather a couple of hours prior, and as dawn crept ever closer five friends sat around a campfire in the Party Room. The fire, fueled by greasy cardboard pizza boxes and lit with a sneeze from Foxy, crackled merrily and cast long shadows throughout the room.

The five were roasting breadsticks over the fire, speaking happily with one another, when Foxy coughed. Once he saw that he had everyone’s attention, Foxy gained a serious look on his face and leaned over the fire. Shadows played across his face.

“You know,” said Foxy, “Nights like tonight be meaning only one thing.” The animatronic fox slowly looked into the eyes of the other four around him. The others leaned in, the atmosphere suddenly tense. “Ghost stories.”

Freddy and Bonnie gulped, but Chica gasped. Her feathery hand shot up as she squealed in excitement. “Ooh, ooh! Me first, me first, I got a good one!”

Foxy leaned back slightly miffed that his spotlight had been taken from him. However, he still gestured at the chicken to start her story. Chica obliged, quickly wolfing down her breadstick and wiping off the crumbs. She cleared her throat.

“Okay, so. Once, there was a sweet little girl at a birthday party, here at this very restaurant. But wouldn’t you know it, even though she was at a birthday party here of all places,” Chica leaned forward, “She was bored!”

Her audience gasped. Freddy shrank back, grasping his hat and trembling. “No!” he cried.

“Yes,” said Chica. “She was bored. She was all by herself, ‘cause the birthday boy’s parents made him invite her even though neither of them were friends. She was fine at first, putting together an official Fazbear jigsaw puzzle, but then she finished it, and didn’t have anything else to do.”

Bonnie’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Wow, even I’ve never finished one of those.”

Chica continued on as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “At that moment, outta the blue, an employee walked up to her. “You’re looking lonely there, little miss,” he said. “What’s the matter?” The girl looked back up at him and said,” Here Chica adopted a falsesetto. “”I’m alright, mister. I’m just bored ‘cause I finished my puzzle.” The man laughed, and told her they had a puzzle in the back. So, the two got up and went into the backroom.

“Sure enough, there was a puzzle box sitting on a table covered in so much dust she couldn’t even see the cover. The girl squealed and ran over and immediately started putting it together. However, the more she solved the more somethin’ was buggin’ her.” Chica looked around at her captive audience. “Can you guess what it was?”

The animatronics all shook their heads in the negative, not able to find their voices.

“Well,” Chica continued, “She realized that the picture the puzzle was showing was that very room she was in. As she put more pieces together, she saw a little girl sitting at a table,” Chica’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Solving a puzzle.”

Freddy and Bonnie grimaced and hugged each other. Foxy, meanwhile, was chewing nervously on his hook.

“The girl was scared, so scared she was covering her eyes with one hand and peeking through the cracks of her fingers. When the girl put the last pieces of the puzzle together, she saw, on the table next to the little girl… a pineapple pizza!”

Freddy let out a strangled screech. Chica laughed. “But that’s not all! She put the last piece in, too scared to even look next to her. Suddenly there was a noise behind her. Then… she smelled pineapple.”

A loud crack split the air as lightning struck somewhere nearby, and Chica’s listener’s jumped and screamed. Chica, for her part, merely laughed at all of them. “Haha, you should’ve seen the looks on you guy’s faces!”

Foxy cleared his throat while Chica was wiping away imaginary tears of laughter. “Yarr, t-that tale wasn’t even all that scary. Now mine, mine be a real doozy.”

Chica settled back and crossed her arms. “Okay big guy, if your story’s so good then let’s hear it.”

“Gladly. Now this tale starts in a bar on a coast. The crew had just docked hours before to celebrate the birthday of a crewmate. While everyone was downing grog and being merry, the first mate asked the captain to come outside with him. There, he said, a surprise present was waiting for the crewmember that the party was for.”

The animatronic audience was on the edge of their seats. Foxy took a moment to soak in the attention, until Chica kicked him and motioned for him to get on with it. Foxy grumbled but continued.

“Anyways, the captain followed the first mate out into the street. The first mate pointed him to an alleyway nearby and told him the gift was in there. The captain walked into the alley,” Foxy’s eyes narrowed, “And there was nothing there.

“Before the captain could turn around and ask where the gift was, the first mate…” Foxy paused to bask in the tension then thrust his arm forward explosively, making everyone jump. “…Ran him through with his cutlass!”

Bonnie covered his mouth in shock. Chica, meanwhile, was scarfing down breadsticks nervously, trying to out-eat her apprehension.

“The gift, you see, was mutiny,” said Foxy. “The captain turned around, anger on his brow, and chased his first mate to the end of the alleyway. There he collapsed, weak from his injury. The first mate walked back into the bar whistling a shanty, and the captain died hearing the sounds of merriment from the bar.”

“Oh no,” whispered Freddy, “How awful.”

“Indeed,” nodded Foxy. “Now, legend has it the captain’s ghost still wanders that seaside town, running back and forth down alleys, searching for his killer. And if you ever come across him…” Foxy swept his hook across his neck.

Freddy fainted. The bear crumpled to the ground, where Bonnie desperately tried to rouse him. While the rabbit shook his friend, Chica spoke up. “You were right, Foxy. That one was really scary.”

Foxy chuckled and put another breadstick over to fire to cook. “Aye, lass. ‘Twas a good one.” Once Bonnie had finished waking Freddy, he addressed the two. “Do either of ye have tales to tell?”

While Freddy was taking in some deep breaths Bonnie spoke up. “Actually, I do have one.”

“Well go on then, lad!”

Bonnie rubbed Freddy’s back a few times and then launched into his story. “A long time ago, there was a little boy who really loved a band. His best friend also really loved them, and for his birthday one year he got tickets to see them. The birthday boy invited everyone in his class to go see them perform. When they got to the concert hall, the whole group was blown away by the band’s performance, and none more so then the little boy.

“After the show, the little boy raced backstage to get an autograph. A guard backstage stopped him, but when the little boy told him why he was back there, the guard smiled and let him back. The boy found the band, and he was really excited.”

The rabbit’s ears drooped. “However, no matter what the boy said, the band never responded. They just ignored him. The boy wanted to cry. Suddenly, one of the band members bumped into the boy, and he went flying and hit his head.”

Some of the members of his audience were sniffling, and one of them was silently crying dark tears. “How cruel,” someone whispered, but Bonnie couldn’t tell who it was.

“There the boy was on the ground, crying. All of a sudden, the guard that let him back appeared above him, still smiling. He kept smiling, too, even as he wrapped his hands around the boy’s neck. That grin was the last thing the boy ever saw.”

Orange light flickered across Bonnie’s face. The rabbit looked to each and every one of his friends there. “Some say, late at night, the little boy’s ghost can be found roaming the halls of the building. If you run into him, you better have a pen ready, because he’ll ask you for an autograph. If you don’t give him one, then…” Bonnie trailed off.

Freddy let go of the breath he had been holding. “W-well, I guess it’s my turn now,” he said, voice strangely high-pitched. He took a moment to collect himself, and then he began his story.

“Years ago, in a pizzeria very similar to this one, a young child was having a birthday. He was having a great time, eating pizza and playing games. When he was all tuckered out from running around he went to sit at an empty table to catch his breath. A man in a costume walked up to him. “Hey kid,” he said, “I got an extra special cake for the birthday boy in the back, and it’s so big I need help carrying it. Will you help me?””

Freddy leaned over the fire until shadows obscured the top half of his face, leaving only soft white pinpricks shining from his eyes. “The boy, excited to see his cake, didn’t tell the man that it was his birthday, and got up to follow him. The two went in the back, and there was the cake sitting on the table, golden yellow and covered in white frosting. The boy only got a glimpse at it, though, when his vision went black. There stood the costumed man behind him, wrench in hand. He bashed the young boy’s head until it was as soft as the cake,” Freddy’s eyes drifted across the others circled around the campfire, “and do you know what he did next?”

Chica squeaked, feathered hands covering her face. Her eyes peered fearfully through her fingers. “W-What happened,” she asked, voice trembling.

“The man cut the boy up, put him in the cake, and served him to everyone there!” the bear yelled. Everyone jumped and yelled, terrified out of their electronic minds.

The group was quiet while they tried to get their nerves under control. Finally, it was Foxy who spoke first. “Yarr, that tale be the scariest one yet!”

Chica and Bonnie nodded in agreement, and Freddy softly laughed. “Well don’t worry guys,” he said, returning his hat to its usual place atop his head. “It was just a story, after all.”

The others laughed, tension easing out of them. “You’re right,” said Chica, “These were all just stories. None of them could ever happen.”

“Yeah,” agreed Foxy. “Especially your story, lass. I mean, a child coming to harm at Freddy Fazbear’s?” The fox scoffed. “Preposterous.”

Bonnie nodded. “There’s no way anyone would die here,” the rabbit said, slapping the fifth member of the group on the back. “Isn’t that right, Mike?”

The blood-covered Freddy suit collapsed forwards, nearly spilling into the fire. “Guess he got too scared,” chortled Freddy. The other animatronics laughed and agreed.