A Week at Freddy's Night 1

“I’ve got to get out of here!”

Grabbing a broom nearby, the night guard attempts to break the window to the front door.

“HELP!”

…

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“Mr. Schmidt! Mr. Schmidt! MIKE!” my landlord yells. His hollering could probably be heard from miles away.

After what seems to be hours of his screams, I finally push myself out of bed and open the door.

“Mr. Schmidt. Your rent is due. And you haven’t paid me for two GOD DAMN WEEKS!” he shrieked, spitting saliva all over my face. 

“I told you, I’ll get to it.”

“No, no, no. You will be finding yourself out on the streets if you do not pay me BY THE END OF THIS WEEK!”

I slammed the door on his face. I heard his loud footsteps stomping down the hall of the apartment until it slowly faded away.

“God damn. That guy can’t go for five minutes without screaming.”

I walked to my “kitchen,” a small counter, with a microwave and minifridge, and made myself a bowl of cereal. Breakfast is the most of important meal of the day, huh?

After my “hearty” meal, I logged onto my desktop and scrolled through the internet to see if I could find any jobs. In reality, there were plenty, I was just lazy. And then, I began to doze out and start contemplating my life. Let me spare you the details of my crappy existence. I never saw my mother, my sister died in a freak accident, my dad, probably the world’s smartest engineer, is who knows where and finally my brother was murdered. Who was he murdered by? By four innocent kids. Were they ever arrested? No. How do I know about this. I killed him. This took “incident” took place ten years ago in 1983, at Fredbear’s Family Diner. Long story short, it was my brother’s birthday, he did not like the animatronic mascots there that my dad created. So, his birthday is pretty crappy. Then comes along my three friends and I who decided to scare my brother using paper masks that resembled the robots. He begins crying, which motivates us to torment him more. We picked him up, got up real close with one of the springlock animatronics (springlock animatronics are a unique model that can be used as both an animatronic and suit. They are known to easily switch to animatronic mode if exposed the slightest bit of liquids. And you would think that the managers would think twice before letting an employee enter one of these suits). You know how I said my brother was crying and that any form of liquid should not interact with the suits. Well, in a nutshell, chomp. My brother is killed. And that incident was called the Bite of 83 and the diner was closed forever. A similar accident happened to my sister. After the diner was closed, two new branches were created. Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza and Circus Baby’s Pizza World, both restaurants animatronics being supplied by Afton Robotics. The company that my father, William, and his friend Henry Emily founded. One day, my younger sister was attending a birthday party at Circus Baby’s Pizza World. Turns out, one of the “star attractions,” Baby (an animatronic) had a scooping machine inside her mechanisms. So, when my sister, Elizabeth, got just close enough to Baby, Baby killed her. This caused Circus Baby’s Pizza World to close. But guess what, there is more! At Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, another kid got too close to one of the animatronics and was killed in the same manner my brother did. This event was called the Bite of 87. But that is not the end of the ride, folks! Cause one of the workers, a complete psychopath, decided to lure kids and murder them and stuffing them inside the animatronic suits that would perform in front of live audiences. When people started complaining that the restaurant was too fetid and the overall atmosphere was suspicious, police decided to run a search and guess what they find. Fun times for the 80’s-

BAM! BAM! BAM!

‘Great, the landlord.’

I get up from my seat and walk to the door. I opened the door, rolled my eyes, and said:

“What do you want this time?”

No one was there. Just a newspaper on the ground. I picked it up and brought it in. I quickly flipped to the job listings page and skimmed through the availabilities.

And then at the bottom of the listings, there was somethings that would almost make me hurl. There was a job stating, “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza: ‘Where fantasy and fun come to life.’ Night Guard Duty” A third branch. A THIRD BRANCH! After all the murders. I rush over to my laptop and Googol the place. Dozens of five-star reviews are attached to the pizzeria. However, I scroll down to a link stating, ‘Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza: Another Bite of 93?’ I carefully read the article and find that another five children have been killed at the new location. The restaurant is to be closed on August 30, 1993. Just a week from now, meaning that I will be the night guard for a week…

…

Well, that is if I get the job.

I call the phone number provided and someone immediately answers.

“Hello. Hello, hello?” the voice said.

“Hi there! I’m interested in the night guard job.”

“Sounds great! You can come in at twelve a.m. today!” His voice boomed through the phone, “I’ll just leave the door open and your uniform in the guard room. Also, you can just follow the map to find the guard room. The shift is from twelve to six for five days. I’ll pay you one-twenty at the end of the week. Alright, adios!”

Relieved that I could pay off my rent, I took a nap without thinking much of what was soon to come.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

My alarm was blaring my ears. Drowsily awaking, the number 11:00 was shone brightly on my face. Time for work. I took bus 192 and traveled my way over to the restaurant. Why on earth did I take this job? And no, it is not to pay off rent, I could always visit my friend to crash over at, it is to redeem myself after my brother’s fateful killing.

I finally got off the bus after thirty minutes and arrived at the pizzeria. I looked up at the enormous sign, with a red LED outline. It displayed the restaurant’s four mascots, Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the Bunny, Chica the Chicken and Foxy the Pirate Fox. The walls of the outside seemed to be covered with moss and most of the paint was torn off. I walked towards the front door only to find it lock. It required a pin number to open it.

I sighed, fished out my phone and called the manager.

“Hey, I need the code to open the door. You didn’t open it like you said.”

“Oh dangnammit. Sorry ‘bout that. My mind is wandering places lately if you know what I’m saying? Anyways, the code is 3970”

I put in the code and the door opened. I hung up and entered this once “magical” place where fantasy and fun used to come to life…