Realms of Frantastic Existance
A fanfiction based on:
Undertale by Toby Fox
Five Nights At Freddy's by Scott Cawthon
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Fran Bow by Killmonday Games
Wonderland
Yellow. Red. Blue. Violets and roses, reach to the sky, hands raised in an eternal pleading, for warmth, sunlight - life. Their stems carry their heads up high, fragile, but strong enough to brace against the wind. The cold wind of indifference, the dark heart which roamed wonderland, thought wonderland, dreamed wonderland - cared no more for life or love, or self. - But the flowers still bloomed, the grass still grew, and dreamers dreamed fantastic dreams. They waited, waited for the day when the wonder would return to wonderland...
"Howdy."
"Who said that?" asked a small girl's voice. She was surprised to hear it herself. Not the greeting, no that wasn't surprising. Though she didn't see the speaker she was used to the invisible eyes and ears of the forest, and the voices that sprang from every living thing. Everything was alive, or at least everything could be alive. One could not assume a simple rock was a rock, or a mouse just a mouse. Even a blade of grass could be a dreaming spirit, or a fantastic being.
No, no, indeed. What suprised her the most was the sound of her own voice. It had been so long since she'd heard it like that. Young - full of life.
"Who are you?" she called out to the unplaced voice, though she could just as well have asked herself that question.
Who are you? I used to know, but you're not the same Alice as before.
"I'm Flowey. Flowey the flower."
Oswald Asylum
8:45 PM June 12th (redacted)
Fran closed the book gingerly, as if it were made of glass and might shatter with even the slightest pressure. She held it close to her chest and closed her eyes. The dim overhead light flickered on and off, as she pretended to be elsewhere. Somewhere other than this dingy room, a world of her own.
"Oh, Alice," she murmurred, "I wish I could be there."
She had gotten a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland from a friend on the next floor. A little boy named Steven, whose parents had sent him with it. He said it was too girly, that Wonderland was for girls, but really Fran suspected he was just angry his parents abandoned him. He held on to the tattered old book until he realized they weren't coming back for him. Instead of facing his feelings - that he had feelings - he had to pretend he didn't like the book. Boys are so silly.
Fran glanced out the window, she could see the tall hedge maze in the distance, the playground no child was actually allowed to play on, the night sky draping over it all like a dense table cloth of fog and enormous blackness stretching out into infinity. Some of the lights had gone out, and she could see the stars just a little clearer. She could almost make out a constellation. She didn't know any of the constellations, but she thought; that one looked like a cat.
"Hello, Kitty," she said looking out the window up into it's great shining face. "You look like my kitty. Have you seen him?"
She hoped he had. Maybe the kitties up there knew where Mr. Midnight was. Maybe they were looking down on him right now, protecting him. She looked over to her bedside table. There was among other things, a crayon drawn picture of Mr. Midnight. She propped it up so she could see it from her bed.
"Your cat is dead." The memory of this statement echoed in her head, but it wasn't true.
Mr. Midnight was alive. Somewhere out there, and she would find him.
Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria
(redacted)
The girl shivered violently. She was so young, and so unaware. She had never known adults to be like this, so scary...so cruel. It was a place of innocence, of childhood joy, and fun, and this man - this man didn't belong.
He looked like he belonged. He dressed like someone she could trust, but his actions spoke louder than his uniform. Where were the other parents? Where were the other employees? Why was no one seeing this?
When he touched her, it hurt, and she told him so, but he wasn't listening. He threatened her. He said he was going to hurt her even more if she told anyone - and then it happened. Quick as a flash, there was the lurch of a dark shadow towards the man, a sickening crunch, the smell of iron, like the taste of copper coins on the tongue. Blood sprayed across the hall, splattering the children's drawings hung helter skelter on every surface.
The little girl blinked, and then she burst into tears.
"You'll never be alone. I am here."
She held tight to her doll. A beat up old rabbit, blue with a bow tie, and chubby red cheeks.
There was a knock on her door. She cringed and held tighter to the doll.
"It's me," said a voice her own age.
She loosened her grip. It would be a while before she could trust again.
"Fran," she whispered. She remembered Fran, she had given her her favorite green crayon and she was back again. Why?
Fran stepped in, boldly as always. She always walked with purpose, like she knew exactly where she was going, even when she was just wandering around past bedtime.
She took in the sight of the room as if seeing it for the first time. The scattered paper, the crayon scribbles on the wall, the horrible black monster that only she could see. She blinked away the vision, as the pills were wearing off.
"I saw your cat," says the girl who was not Fran.
"You did?" Fran gasped, snapping to attention "where? when?"
It seemed like a random outburst, but the girl figured that was the reason Fran had visited in the first place, and around here the children weren't much for small talk and pleasantries. Rather get to the point of it all.
"Yes, he was in the closet, he ran out under the table. He had a funny coat on, and a watch on a string."
Fran thought about this for a moment.
"Are you sure it was my kitty? Mr. Midnight doesn't wear clothes, or tell time, atleast that I know of."
"Maybe he does now?" suggested the girl, "he was all white, I thought he was a ghost at first."
Fran's shoulders slumped. "Mr. Midnight isn't white either...that doesn't sound like my kitty at all."
Fran was discouraged for only a second, but never one to be so easily daunted, quickly brightened up.
"Maybe your ghost kitty has seen him. Can you please tell me where he went?"
"There." the girl pointed away towards a painting on the wall.
"Where?"
"In there," said the girl.
"Oh I see... Well, I don't know how to get in there..."
The girl seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, pulling over a sheet of paper and handful of crayons, she started busying her self with her art.
"If you figure it out," she said not looking up "let me know. I'll go with you."