You came back home to your little town for summer break. It has been a long academic year, and you were happy to finally see the sign welcoming you. When you were younger, all you wanted to do was leave the small town and experience the big city. Now that you actually studied in a big city, all you wanted to do was to go back home where it was quiet and didn't smell like car fumes and meth.
The moment you arrived at the front of your parents' house, your mother came onto the porch. Upon seeing you, her eyes lit up. She stepped from one foot to the other, impatiently waiting for you to get out of your car.
You got out and immediately fell into her embrace. She wasn't a very big woman, but the way she crushed you with her arms; you would have thought a sumo wrestler was trying to squeeze you until you popped.
A laugh sounded from behind her as your father came out of the house. He stood on top of the steps, arms crossed, a lazy smile on his face.
-You sure kept us waiting, kiddo! – He said, after your mother finally let go of you.
You didn't even get to have a proper breath, when your father hugged you with the force double your mother's.
-Oh, God. – You struggled out, and your father laughed again.
-Nope, just dad. - He finally let go of you, and you rolled your eyes at his dad-joke.
When you were younger, you always thought that their love for you was embarrassing. Whenever you tried to make yourself out to be a badass in front of all your friends, the image shattered the moment one of your parents got their hold of you. But now it was different. You were twenty-one, almost twenty-two. Single (ready to mingle), and pretty friendless. It felt good to get a hug and some bad jokes from your parents.
-Alright guys, time to come inside. – Your mother waved you both in. – I made some food for us all to enjoy, while you, – She pointed her finger to you. – Tell us all about how your year went.
You smiled at her and nodded as you all went inside. In fact, nothing changed in your studies. You were a third-year criminology student. It was all the same things as last year, only now more detail-focused. Either way, you were going to tell them all about how you've been. After all, you knew it was just an excuse from your mother to start a long conversation between you happy three.
-Any new techniques for catching bad guys? – Your dad asked, a bit of your mom's casserole falling out of his mouth.
-Jesus, when will you learn to swallow then talk? – Your mother sighed, wiping a piece of food from your father's shirt.
-Isn't it better this way? At least you'll always know what I ate before I actually tell you. – He laughed, pointing to the stain.
You and your mom also laughed at the comment.
-Dad, I already told you that we're not the ones catching bad guys. – You said, for probably the hundredth time. You swore your dad kept asking this question on purpose. – We're sort of technicians, remember?
-Haha, sure kiddo.
You continued to talk about everything and nothing at the table. The food was long gone, and at some point, your mother started pouring you glasses of wine. The three of you sat at the dinner table, telling each other stories. Your parents told you all about what happened when you were gone, and in return, you told them all about your life as a university student.
When all of you got tired and well beyond "a little tipsy" (as your mother said while nearly falling over two times in a row), you decided to go to bed. Your parents clumsily made their way up the stairs, leaving all the dishes to be cleaned up by their future selves.
You opened the door to your room, and stuck a hand inside, grabbing at the wall to try and find the light switch. As you turned on the light, and your eyes adjusted to the change, real horror appeared before you – your cringe filled teenage-hood.
The walls were an ugly yellow color – your parents made the mistake of letting you choose the color of your own walls when you were a child. And those ugly, yellow walls were plastered with posters. Ugly, crumpled up posters, that were not even hung up straight, glared at you from their dusty spots. If you weren't so tired and drunk, you would have ripped those into pieces.
You walked over to your bed and fell on top of it. The poster from one of the games you obsessed over when younger, stared at you from the wall opposite. It was a FNaF poster...
That damn game flooded your teenage mind, occupying the precious space in your brain that you should have been filling with useful knowledge. It was nearly impossible to learn algebra, but you knew every FNaF theory by heart. You could perfectly recite all the awful fanfictions you've read back in the day, but couldn't focus on reading a proper book. You could perfectly redraw all the goofy fanart from memory, and they'd look more original than the originals, but you couldn't even make notes in class.
And then you fell off. Sister Location came out, and by that time you were so busy with school, and getting into your dream university, that you didn't even register those new games were still being made. After a while, you just weren't as interested. Of course, you knew the basic lore. Well, you mostly pieced it together after watching countless TikTok edits about the games...
Safe to say, you used to be obsessed. Then adulthood hit you hard, and you had to focus on the real world.
Your head spun, and spun as your eyes slowly fluttered shut. You must have drunk a lot today. After all, you were pretty used to heavy drinking, being a college student and all.
The image on the poster stayed almost glued to the backs of your eyelids, as you finally drifted off to sleep. A familiar melody filled the back of your head, but you were too drunk to notice, or care.
-Ow. Shit. – You cursed quietly, as a beam of morning sunlight hit you right in the eyes. You shut them closed even more, and spun to the other side.
Thump
-Oh, God damn it. – You whined, as you fell off your bed. Your poor ass hit the floor really hard.
You laid on your back, staring at the ceiling.
That's weird, the lamp looks goofy. You remember having two LED lights on your ceiling. This was a hanging lamp, in a kitsch-y orange color. Come to think of it, why did the light wake you up? You had blinds in your room. Maybe you were too drunk to draw them yesterday?
You tried to stand up, but a splitting head-ache kept you glued to the floor. You grabbed your head in two hands, and squeezed. Sometimes it helped.
After a while, you finally managed to lift yourself up. You groggily made your way to the kitchen, trying to grab a glass of water for your crippling hangover. As always, you reached for the cupboard. Your hands landed on a wall. You moved your hands to the left, but there was only more wall. To the right – same thing. You cracked one eye open; the other glued shut with eye boogers.
There was a wall before you. Wow, a shocker, you sure didn't expect that. But there was something weird about that wall. Your parents' house was painted all white, but this wall had the ugliest wallpaper that you've ever seen. It was like those popular eighties prints; shades of orange and yellow in a circular pattern.
With a bit of struggling, you cracked the other eye open. You swore you heard a sound like a creaking, old door when you managed to do that.
You touched the ugly wallpaper. It sure was real. You looked around. This looked like your parents' kitchen but... uglier. All of the furniture were these awful shades of orange-brown. The fridge looked as if it was pulled right out of an eighties sitcom. And worst of all – there weren't any cupboards.
-What the fuck... - You muttered to yourself, slowly spinning around the room.
Did someone fucking kidnap me?!
You thought to yourself. But this wouldn't be right, no. The layout of the house was the same as your parents'. You managed to make your way over to the kitchen with your eyes closed – it must have been the house you grew up in. Unless someone kidnapped you and placed you in a house with the identical layout, your theory wouldn't be possible.
Did your parents pull some prank on you? Were you in a coma? How long have you slept?
You forgot about having to drink some water, and stomped into another part of the house – the living room. God, was it even uglier than the kitchen. Everything was the same, awful brown-orange. Oh, and the goddamn flat-screen TV was gone. Poof, disappeared into thin air. Instead, there was a small box TV with antennas. It looked almost comical, standing on top of the tall and wide console table.
Your attention went to a calendar, hanging right above the small TV. You walked up to it, and your jaw would have dropped to the floor if you hadn't had... you know... hinges in it - like an average person.
The calendar read June 9th, 1984.
Huh?
1984?
This had to have been a prank. You weren't even a sperm in your dad's balls by that time.
Now, slightly panicking, you tried to call out to your parents. – Mom! Dad! – You yelled, yet were met with silence.
You rushed out of the living room, and tried to run up the stairs. In your foggy vision, you didn't see the wall that you collided with the next second. Your head spun, as you fell to the ground, landing on your poor, damaged ass cheeks.
Before you was an ugly, wallpapered wall - placed in an awkward spot, where the stairs should have been. You crawled on all fours slowly around the wall – four corners. No way to get upstairs. It looked like someone played The Sims with the house. Not only was the décor absolutely horrid, but now there were randomly placed walls.
With a grunt you got up, rubbing your hurting ass. You went straight to your room, this time watching for any new additions to the house you once knew. You swung the door open, and finally saw the entirety of your room. There were no posters on the wallpapered walls. And the worst part – your PC was gone. Your gamer girl™ chair was gone. Your cat ear headphones, that made so many discord mods (s)cream were gone. There was only an ugly, brown desk, and an even uglier chair.
You lunged for your bed, trying to find your phone. It wasn't anywhere to be found – under your pillow, under the covers, even when you flipped over the mattress; your phone wasn't there.
Resigned and breathing heavily from all the running around (you're a university student; your exercise is stealing traffic cones when drunk), you sat on the floor.
-What the hell is going on? – You asked. Not like anyone could answer; you seemed all alone in this.
Where were your parents? What was this place? What happened?
Those were the questions that occupied your mind currently. Suddenly, a fluttering sound startled you. It was as if someone threw a bunch of crumpled up pieces of paper around. You shot up from where you were sitting, and carefully peeked outside. Shit, you couldn't see anything from this angle.
You quietly left your room, praying not to get killed by some crazy kidnapper. Finally, you approached your dinner table, from where the sound seemed to come from. There were no dirty dishes on top of it. Instead, there was an open newspaper, laying as if waiting for you to read it.
You approached the paper carefully, your eyes widening upon seeing the image printed on one of the pages. There was a picture of the three animatronics from FNaF. Above it, a header: "GRAND REOPENING OF FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZERIA".
No.
No, no.
Definitely not.
Nope.
-Haha. – You laughed in pure disbelief. – Very funny guys, you can come out now! – You halfheartedly yelled into the empty house.
There was no response. Of course, there was no response. This couldn't have been a prank. This had to have been some sick kidnapping! Or... something! One moment you're drunk, sleeping in your own bed; next moment you wake up in a strange, The Sims-esque house, a newspaper announcing Freddy's reopening laying on your dinner table.
You saw that the newspaper was dated exactly a year before. What's an outdated newspaper doing here, open on this exact page? With nothing else to do in your current predicament, you continued reading the advertisement: "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria reopens today! Get the youngest members of your family, and come spend your time together with the band. There will be pizza, songs, arcades, and lots of fun!".
Wow, that sounded cringey. But oddly realistic. There was an address on the bottom of the page.
If there are no more clues here, then you need to get out. If you even can get out. This could decide if this was indeed a kidnapping, or something entirely different was going on. Maybe you're just in a weird dream? You pinched your arm and yelped, feeling the sharp pain. Yup, definitely not a dream. With the clothes you had on, still vaguely smelling of alcohol and a hangover, you approached the front door. You twisted the handle, and the door swung open. Fresh air and light hit you in the face, and you almost puked. You weren't used to fresh air anymore. It lacked that... pollution aroma.
In the driveway you saw a car. Not your car, and definitely not your parents' car. It was... a car. A very ugly car. Old, and in a weird shade of green. Puke-green.
You approached the vehicle, and pulled the handle. The door opened, and you noticed the keys were already in the ignition.
-Huh... - You mumbled to yourself. – Okay... - You sat inside the car, and twisted the keys.
The car hiccupped a couple of times, before finally starting.
You passed people and buildings on the streets, mindlessly driving wherever you felt was right. The whole town changed. The streets weren't the same as you remembered. The people looked weird, like pulled out of an eighties TV show. For a split second, you considered stopping some poor, random stranger, and asking them what year it was, and where you were. But you decided against that, not wanting to seem like... you know... a crazy person.
Oh, for God's sake, this whole situation was crazy! Just where the hell were you? And when were you?
Soon, you saw a familiar looking building before you. Big red letters spelled out the pizzeria's name, along with Freddy Fazbear's ugly mug next to them, all plastered on an old-looking signboard.
How did you end up there? You knew the addresses' name, sure. But you didn't know the directions. Yet, every turn you took led you right there.
You parked your car in one of the vacant spots. There seemed to be a lot of people coming there, even considering the place's history. If it was real, that is.
You left your car, and marched right through the front doors. They swung open with a whine, similar like the one you made when you fell off your bed. You were met with the squealing of children, music blaring from speakers, and the sounds of arcade machines.
Your head turned, and you nearly gasped upon seeing the stage.
There they were – the three animatronics. Standing, doing wonky movements. A paralyzed chimpanzee would dance better than those. A Chuck e Cheese animatronic had more work put into it than those. A monkey equipped with two rocks would make music better than this.
You needed to take a closer look at these freaks of nature. Just as you managed to squeeze through the crowd, you collided with someone.
-Oh, sorry 'bout that. – You apologized, looking up at your victim.
No fucking way.
Absolutely no fucking way.
As you were trying to say something, even catch a breath, the person before you spoke up. – Are you alright? – He asked in a disgusting, devious, revolting, sickening, nauseating, stomach-churning, outrageous, ghastly, offensive, abominable, distasteful, loathsome, vulgar, vile, scandalous, repugnant, odious, obnoxious, satiating, foul British accent.
There he stood before you – in all his lanky, tall, brown-haired, silver-eyed, evil looking glory. William God-damned Afton.
You were kind of used to his all purple, no thoughts persona from the early days of FNaF. You saw fanart of this normal version of him on (the most vile platform) TikTok, and you kind of thought he was hot. Yeah, he was a serial killer, but he was fictional. You never simped for the criminals you learned about, because they were real. And he was not. Not until now.
-Yup. Cool as a cucumber. – You managed to reply, still staring in disbelief. It wasn't even the right expression to respond with. "Cool as a cucumber". Bruh - that's all you thought at that moment.
- ...Alright. – He responded, looking very confused. And then he turned around and left. Somehow weaving through the dense crowd like it was just a walk in the park, and not a sea of blood-thirsty toddlers.
Oh god, you just embarrassed yourself in front of a hot person. Wait, no. How was he real? It didn't matter that he was hot. Now that he was real, his crimes were also real. Shit, you needed to figure out what to do with all this. And you had nowhere better to stay, then right there and investigate. There was nothing left for you to do at home, and you couldn't bear looking at the ugly wallpaper any longer.
You decided to sit at one of the vacant tables and gather your thoughts. This was just too confusing.
Well, at least he didn't look like Peter Griffin.