Horrors of The Past

When Michael finally decides to return to Fazbear's Fright, he expects things to be simple, and easy. He didn't consider that maybe, just maybe, HE, was back.


1. One

Chapter One.


I sigh, staring at the large building, it’s neon sign flickering.

‘Fazbear’s Fright - Your Worst Nightmare!’ reads the sign.

I’ve finally decided to return to this horrid place, the place it all happened.

I guess I came here hoping I’d find answers to the question that’d been plaguing me ever since I quit my job at this god damned place. They say I ran away, that I left them to die, to suffer. To… rot.

    I tried to ignore the voices, the voices of those who once welcomed me with open arms. They say it’s my fault they died, my fault they became who they are.

3 years ago, it all happened. And now, I was coming right back to the place that damn near cost me my life. I guess, I feel bad. I must of snapped one night, without knowing it. I gave in to their cries. I guess, I’m here to right my wrongs.

    I thought I would be helping out when I took that job, I thought maybe, just maybe I could see to it that they were freed, but in trying to help, I only made it worse…

I shake my head, and begin making my way towards the building’s entryway.

As I approach the doors, the wind seems to whisper in my ears, warning me to turn away, but I ignore it, as this, is what I have to do.

I push open the doors, the hinges squeaking from poor maintenance. The place had been shut down ever since one of the ‘attractions’ ‘attempted’ to kill someone.

To say ‘attempted’ is an understatement, considering the ‘attempt’ succeeded. It strangled a kid to death, then tore them limb from limb. The aftermath was… messy.

    I can say this only because I saw it happen. I’m the one who reported it.

He won’t be very happy with me, now that I think about it.

I sigh once again, as I step inside and turn to face the outside world. I take a good long look, as for some reason, I have a feeling it’ll be the last one I get.

A few minutes later, I slowly close the doors, wincing as they squeak. When they’re closed, I pull the key from my pocket. I had gotten it from my friend, the one who died. I still shudder holding the key, as the memories return. Sighing, I lock the doors.


    “Well, well, well. Look who’s back. Hello… Michael.”

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