This is just a one-shot that I wanted to write before Halloween. I do not own FNAF or any of the stories used!
~ Halloween night ~
"Why don't we tell ghost stories to keep us busy?" Becca asked as I finished my round for the night to make sure no one got in.
"I don't see why not," I replied, not really thinking clearly at that moment.
"Great!" Becca chirped. "Then you have to tell the scariest one you can think of!"
I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized what I had just walked into. After a moment, I was finally able to respond.
"Why don't you tell one first? I want to see what you come up with," I suggested.
"Alright, but let's go to the Office so no kids think we're handing out treats for Halloween."
We walked to the Office and sat down opposite from each other on the floor.
"Alright," Becca started. "Let's see… Oh, right!"
()()()()
About ten years ago, two men went into the woods, hunting for moose outside of the regular hunting season. They were tracking down a female when night fell on them quickly, as it usually did during the winters in New England. They set up camp in a little clearing surrounded by pine trees, one of them keeping watch for anything unusual while the other one slept.
Charlie, the man keeping watch, sat outside for many hours when he heard his name. It was just a whisper, and he believed it was the wind whistling through the trees.
The sound grew louder, and it became clear that it was not the wind that he heard. It sounded like a voice, calling his name from far away. "Chaarliiieee," it called. "Chaarliiieee." He looked around, but no one was in sight.
He thought nothing of it until the voice sounded closer, like it was just outside the clearing. "Chaarliiieee. Chaarliiieee!"
He became scared and turned to the tent his friend was in, entering it and trying to wake him up, but it was useless. His friend was in a deep sleep.
"Chaarliiieee!" The voice sounded closer, but when he went back out and looked around, no one was there.
Suddenly, he heard the voice right behind him. "Chaarliiieee!"
George awoke with a start as he realized something was wrong. He looked outside the tent, but nothing was there. And then he realized it. Charlie wasn't there either!
"Charlie?" he called. "Charlie?!"
He then noticed the tracks in the snow, going out into the timbers in long strides, as if whoever left them was running. He suddenly heard someone yell in pain.
"Charlie?" George called, only to be answered by Charlie's voice yelling, "My feet! My feet! My burning feet!"
George followed the footprints quickly, noticing that as he ran, the footprints he was following became longer. It was almost as if whoever left the footprints had been dragged. Eventually, the footprints became so long that they couldn't have been made by a human.
Still, he kept following them, listening as his friend continued to yell, "My feet! My burning feet!"
As George entered the timbers, the footprints became clear in the pine needles under the pine trees. The footprints were charred and some of the prints were still smoking.
He soon found himself outside the timbers, stopping where the footprints ended. They just ended, for no reason whatsoever. He soon heard his friend yell, but it seemed like the sound was coming from the air.
George looked up to see some sort of bird in the air, slowly descending towards the ground. It took a few moments for him to realize that the figure in the air wasn't a bird.
The figure hit the ground with a sickening thud, and George immediately recognized who it was. It was Charlie, lying on the ground. His eyes looked up towards the endless sky, but saw nothing. His mouth was forever stuck in a silent scream.
At the end of his legs, there were no shoes. There were no feet. All that was left were two bloody, charred stumps.
George ran to the nearest town as fast as he could, telling the people his friend had died thanks to an accident with their fire, but he knew better. He knew the only thing that could do that was the Wendigo.
Some say that the Wendigo still haunts the timbers and forests of North America, seeking its revenge on those who disrespect Mother Earth.
()()()()
Becca and I sat in silence for a long while before she spoke again.
"That's my story," she said happily, making me jump at the sudden noise. "Now it's your turn!"
I quickly checked the security cams before I did anything else. Chica, Bonnie and Freddy were in the corners of the halls, obviously listening to our stories.
I looked over to Becca and gave her our secret signal to be as loud as possible. She happily obliged, shrieking as loudly as she could and startled everyone.
I broke out laughing as Chica, Bonnie, and Freddy poked their heads in to see what was wrong.
"Sorry," I apologized. "I couldn't help it."
"Y-you scared us pretty good," Bonnie said.
"Ok," I said. "My turn, and I've got a good one."
()()()()
It was a clear, starry night. Greg and Alicia were sitting in Greg's car, listening to the radio. All of a sudden, a news announcement went out.
"Special report," the news announcer said. "Criminal on the loose. He has recently escaped prison and is highly dangerous. He is said to be armed with a gun and his right hand is reported to be a steel hook. Get inside as fast as you can and lock all doors and windows."
"Don't listen to him," Greg said. "He's just exaggerating. There's nothing to worry about."
"I don't know," Alicia replied, obviously very nervous at this point. "I don't think it's a good idea to be out here. The prison isn't that far away."
"Alicia, you're not actually buying that dumb story, are you?" Greg asked.
"I just don't think it's a good idea to be here. Just, please take me home." Alicia looked like she was about to cry at this point, so Greg had no choice but to take her home.
As he started the car, there was a thump by the passenger side door, and Alicia jumped in her seat. Greg immediately locked the door and drove off.
Once they reached Alicia's house, Greg turned the car off and got out to open the door for Alicia, only to stop in his tracks.
Alicia wondered what he was waiting for, and then realized that her door was still locked. She unlocked it, but still Greg didn't move. She rolled down her window to ask him what was wrong, and then noticed him looking at her door.
She looked down at the outside of the car, only to see a long trail of blood smeared from her door to the rear bumper. And there, hanging from the door handle, was a rusty, blood covered, stainless steel hook.
()()()()
All of a sudden, an arm with a hook as a hand shot out in front of me, making me and Becca scream. I heard laughter from outside the door beside Bonnie, and instantly I know it was Foxy.
"God, Foxy!" I said, laughing slightly and holding my hand over my racing heart. "You nearly gave us heart attacks!"
"Sorry lass. I couldn't resist," Foxy said.
"Have you heard any scary stories that you can tell us?" Becca asked. I was actually thinking the same thing at the moment, but she asked it before I could.
"Ay. We all have," Foxy stated. "I'll tell ye mine first."
()()()()
A long time ago, there be a man who lived out in the prairie all alone with his wife.
The lass was missing her arm from the shoulder down, so he gave her a solid gold arm for her birthday. But just a few days later, she died. He had her buried with that golden arm still attached to her.
About a month later, the lad was running out of money and could think of nothing to solve the problem. Nothing except digging up his wife and taking that golden arm from her.
That night, he walked to where his wife be buried and looked around to make sure no one be nearby to see him. Carefully, he dug up the golden arm attached to his wife's corpse and reburied her. He cashed it in the next day.
That night the lad went to bed early, exhausted from his work. He went upstairs, closed the door, crawled into bed, and was right about to sleep when he heard a noise.
It was a voice, whispering, "Who's got me golden arm?"
Hearing this, the man pulled his covers high up over his head and ears, hoping that whoever it be wouldn't find him.
He could hear footsteps down below him, shuffling around in the kitchen. The footsteps soon could be heard at the bottom of the stairs.
Again, the voice called, "Who's got me golden arm?" This time, the voice sounded louder.
The lad kept quiet as he continued to hide under his covers, thinking that if he didn't make a sound the other would leave.
He soon heard the footsteps clomping up the stairs and stop at the top of them.
The voice sounded from the hall nearby. "Who's got me golden arm?"
The footsteps soon started again and he could hear them just outside his door.
"Who's got me golden arm?" This time, the voice sounded angry.
The door opened slowly, and he heard footsteps enter his room. He heard them stop just beside his bed.
"Who's got me golden arm?" the voice said angrily.
Slowly, the lad peeked out from under his covers.
"YOU DO!"
()()()()
Foxy suddenly jumped into the room and grabbed Becca as he shouted those last two words, making both of us scream and then burst out laughing.
"Th-that's nothing," Bonnie stated. "I know a better one."
"Let's hear it," I said.
"O-okay."
()()()()
O-one night, a young girl named Avery threw a party and invited all of her friends from school. A-as the night went on, they began to tell scary stories.
O-one boy said he heard a legend about an old graveyard located near the girl's house. A-apparently an old woman had been buried in the middle of the cemetery and there were rumors that she was a witch. I-it was said that if someone stood on her grave at midnight, she would grab them and drag them down to the underworld.
"I would never go near that graveyard after dark," another boy said.
"Y-you're a bunch of idiots," Avery laughed. "I can't believe you'd take something like that seriously."
Th-the boy who told the story turned to her. "I think you'd have a different attitude if you actually went to the graveyard."
"I-it wouldn't make a difference," Avery stated.
"O-okay, then prove it!" said the boy. "W-we'll all go down to the cemetery and wait outside while you stand on the witch's grave."
"A-a grave doesn't scare me," she said. "I-I'll do it right now."
"Y-you'll have to prove you really did it," the boy said. "O-otherwise you might chicken out."
H-he took a knife from the kitchen drawer and handed it to her.
"S-stick this knife in the grave," he said. "Th-then we'll know for sure."
Th-the group set out for the graveyard, and when they reached the iron gates, they gathered in a circle. A-all of them stared at Avery. Sh-she tried to pretend she wasn't scared and hoped her shivering wasn't noticeable.
W-with the knife clutched in her hand, Avery walked through the old iron gateway and made her way through the darkened graveyard, the moonlight casting unusual shadows from the tombstones and trees. E-eventually, she found the old woman's grave.
"Th-there's nothing to be afraid of," she tried to comfort herself. "I-it's just a story."
C-crouching in front of the headstone, she whispered, "I'm not afraid of you."
Sh-she then raised the knife above her head and plunged it into the earth.
"T-take that you old witch," she chuckled.
A-Avery was about to turn around to leave, when she felt something tugging on her skirt. Sh-she couldn't move.
Sh-she became terrified and flew into a panic. "H-help!" she cried. "Sh-she's got me! Sh-she's got me!"
Wh-when she didn't come back, her friends began to worry. A-after a while, they cautiously entered the graveyard to look for her. Th-they found her sprawled across the old woman's grave. Sh-she was dead, her face frozen in a silent scream.
()()()()
"Not bad," Becca stated after a while. "I never thought you guys would learn stories like that."
"Ay, lass," Foxy said. "Many people tend to tell these stories around this time, and we tend to overhear them."
"Do you have any stories?" I asked Chica and Freddy.
They looked at each other.
"Can I go first?" Chica asked.
Freddy nodded.
"Alright, then. Here's my story."
()()()()
There was a young girl who was babysitting for a couple who lived in a large, isolated, old house. They were going out to see a movie that night and left the teen in charge of their young children.
The babysitter put the children to bed when it got late and went downstairs to watch some TV.
She was just getting comfortable when she heard the phone ring. When she answered it, all she heard was heavy breathing followed by a man's voice asking, "Have you checked on the children?"
Freaked out, she hung up the phone, trying to convince herself that it was just someone playing a prank on her and went back to watching TV.
About 15 minutes later, the phone rang again. She picked up the receiver and heard hysterical laughter from the other end. Then the same voice asked, "Why haven't you checked on the children?"
The babysitter slammed the phone down and picked it up again to call the police. The operator at the police station told the babysitter that if the man called again, she should try to keep him talking so that they would have time to trace the call.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again and when the babysitter answered it, she heard the heavy breathing again. The voice on the line said, "You should really check on the children."
The babysitter listened to him laughing hysterically for a long time. She hung up the phone again and almost immediately, it rang again.
This time it was the operator from the police station, yelling, "Get out of the house right now! The calls are coming from the upstairs phone!"
The babysitter dropped the phone in shock and she suddenly heard heavy footsteps walking down the stairs. Without pausing for a second, she ran out of the house as fast as she could.
Just as she closed the front door behind her, a man's hand slammed against the glass. She screamed and ran out onto the street just as a police car was pulling up.
The police searched the house and found the two children upstairs, hiding in the closet and crying. In the parent's bedroom, they found a bloody axe lying on the floor next to the upstairs phone. The back window was wide open and the curtains were blowing in the breeze.
There was no sign of the man who had made the phone calls. He had escaped when the police arrived and interrupted his horrible plan to kill the two children and the poor babysitter.
()()()()
"Hey," Becca chirped, turning to me. "That's kinda like what happened to-"
"Don't even start," I quickly interrupted before she could bring up the Night 4 incident. "So, Freddy, let's hear your story."
Freddy sighed quietly.
"Come on," Chica urged. "Just one."
"Fine," Freddy agreed reluctantly, though it seemed like he was putting on an act from the slight smirk that came to his face when he said it.
()()()()
There was a young woman who had just started a new job in a large office building. She was walking to work one day when a long black hearse drove up next to her slowly, matching her pace. She became nervous and anxiously watched it out of the corner of her eye.
The driver leaned out the window and called to her in a deep voice.
"Do you need a lift?"
She turned to look at him and got a terrible shock. The driver's face was terribly deformed. His skin was deathly pale and one of his eyes was noticeably higher than the other.
The man pointed to the rear of the vehicle, which contained a coffin.
"Room for one more," he said.
Frightened by his bizarre appearance and unwelcome suggestion, she refused the offer. The woman ran down the street until she came to the office building where she worked. For the rest of the day, she couldn't stop thinking about the strange man in the hearse, and was glad when work was finally over.
The woman worked up on the ninth floor and when the elevator came, it was almost completely full. She hesitated a moment before stepping away.
"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" asked a familiar voice. "There's room for one more."
The woman gasped. It was the hearse driver from this morning, eyeing her with his lopsided gaze.
She backed away, stuttering, "I-I think I'll take the stairs!"
The hearse driver just stared at her as the doors slid shut.
The woman had only taken a few steps down the stairs when she heard a chorus of screams followed by a deafening crash. She hurried downstairs and discovered the elevator cable had broken and all the passengers had plunged to their deaths.
And the hearse driver had disappeared.
()()()()
"Freaky," Becca said after Freddy's story was over.
"I'd hate to have been in her shoes when she met the hearse driver," I said, a shiver going down my spine. I soon looked at my watch and noticed my shift was almost over.
"Sorry, guys," I said as me and Becca got up. "We're gonna have to leave soon."
"See ye tomorrow, lass," Foxy said as he and the others began to leave to go to their spots.
"And remember," Freddy added. "Be careful not to upset those you shouldn't." He then laughed.
As Becca and I left, she asked, "You don't think Freddy was being serious, do you?"
"Of course not," I said.
Just then, a hearse pulled up next to us. The man inside rolled the window down and leaned out to look at us. He looked just like the man Freddy had described in his story.
"Do you two need a lift?" the man asked.
That's my story. I hope you liked it.