What is Seen in Shadows...
A Darkened Room
The first thing Douglas Blackburn noticed was that he was cold. And stiff.
"Wha-where am I?" he yawned as if waking up from a deep sleep while his vision came into focus from pitch black darkness. Straight in front of him Douglas could make out faint shapes of tables and striped party hats while hanging, glittery cut-outs of stars and sparkles decorated his periphery. But it was all strange, for the eyes he was seeing out of were not his own.
"What the..." he started again before he was interrupted by a chilling sound that cut through the blackened room's silence.
"HaaHAaaa...!"
Staring through the large, rounded eye holes directly in front of his own, and taking note of the brown muzzle tipped with a big black nose that extended beyond the eye holes, Douglas slowly turned his head without so much as a breath.
WHIRRRRRR!
A mechanical whirring sound resonated through his head, which he found to be surprisingly rigid and heavy, as he moved it to his left. His sight continually flickered with little black and white dots all clustered together at once.
Static.
It was just like what he would see on his television screen when the reception was bad, his vision would twitch and blink and momentarily fail with bursts of it. But what was worse was that as Douglas moved his head, the strange sound he heard before kept punctuating the rising tension building within his unresponsive body.
"HAaahaAahaHAaa... HahaHA...!"
"Is that children?" crossed the thought in Douglas's mind while he turned his head. It couldn't be... could it? It was very much like a group of children laughing and singing as they played, but it was clearly not of this world. It was very high-pitched and sounded distorted and demented; barely human and almost mocking him in his efforts.
"But why would... Chica?" started Douglas, before his train of thought was derailed by the view of the yellow animatronic chicken with her white bib coming into focus on his left. She was silent and not moving; no indication of life in her, unlike him. "If you're here, then does that mean..."
WHIRRRRRR!
Douglas turned his noisy head as fast as he could (which was not very fast at all) to his right. A tall, purple rabbit animatronic stood closely to his right, clutching a red and white V-series electric guitar. "Bonnie? What is going on? Am I... Freddy...?"
"HAhAhaHaahahaaaaaaaahaAAaaaaaAaaaaaaa... !"
But before Douglas could dwell on his current situation any longer, the immensely creepy sound suddenly became louder, more frantic and twisted by the second while Douglas's head began to vibrate and tingle. There was no stopping it as it grew in intensity.
Douglas could only move his new Freddy head side to side in vain attempts to shake the noise from rattling his head off; it was driving him insane and he wanted badly for it to stop. But before he could open his mouth to scream, a flat, electronic sound punched through the rising cacophony of torment and threatened to make his eardrums explode. Static claimed more and more of his vision and made the images of the party hats and animatronics disappear in a sea of frantic little black and white balls of light.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- BZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT!
And then there was nothing. Only silence. Only blackness.
August 19, 2013 – 8:00 AM – Capitol Heights, Harrisburg – River Plaza, Apartment #I3
Douglas woke up with a jolt and covered in cold sweat. He was breathing hard and staring straight ahead.
"Damn dream again." he grumbled to himself before letting out one deep sigh with the relief that he was safe from harm. Sitting up in his bed, he cast his brown eyes to the clock on his bedside table, the green digital numbers spelt out 8:00 AM. Time to get up.
Douglas yawned and then swung his legs off the side of the bed in preparation to begin another day, he exhaled and hung his head low to let the sleep and grogginess slowly drain from his body, and then with a stretch he rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom.
Reaching it, he flicked on the light switch and squinted his eyes when fluorescent light flooded the small green-and-white-tiled bathroom. When his eyes adjusted, he strode over to the sink and turned on the cold faucet, splashing his face several times with the icy, clear liquid to jumpstart his internal motors.
Douglas turned off the water and looked wearily at his reflection in the mirror. Light brown, almond-shaped eyes stared intently back at their master's face, taking in the features as they had always done for every morning.
With clear skin an even shade of caramel covering a slim five foot nine inch frame, close-cropped straight and wavy dark brown hair so deep it could almost be considered black, and a straight nose completing his otherwise Caucasoid features, twenty-six-year-old Douglas Blackburn could be described honestly of having exotic origins. Indeed, in many ways he did, for both his parents hailed from the small Caribbean island of Grenada, having moved to the United States in 1985, and having him as their only child who was an exciting blend of white, black and Indian racial flavours.
After taking a leak for relief, Douglas made his way back through his bedroom and crossed through his apartment's living room and kitchen to the front door.
"The paper should be there by now." hoped Douglas to himself, as he turned the lock and unfastened the bolt, opening the white-painted door to reveal the folded copy of The Pennsylvania Chronicle. Looking to his left and then to his right, Douglas, with barely a sound, scooped up the paper and disappeared back into the apartment.
"Another day, another job hunt," Douglas sighed, flicking on the coffee pot to start making his daily cup of Tim Horton's, "Please let there be something in here today..."
Sitting at his kitchen counter's bar stool, he quickly skimmed through the most important-looking stories until he reached the classifieds section where all the available jobs were listed. His eyes went back and forth across the pages as he searched fruitlessly and mentally crossed off the openings that were not suitable.
"Burger flipper... no. Waiter... no. House cleaner... no. Costumed performer for Cheeky's Chicken Barn... hell no!"
Douglas took a sip from his steaming mug and frowned, letting the opened newspaper rest dejectedly on his lap. Nothing again so far. But it was not that he was too proud and too high and mighty to work such jobs, rather, that he was concerned about the pay that came with them. Most of the jobs that paid well were things like travel agents, assistant managers, accountants or event organisers, but Douglas knew right off the bat that he was neither qualified nor had the necessary number of years of experience required for such a post.
But all the other openings were minimum wage jobs with no guarantee of overtime or any indication that it was even offered at all, and if that was the case, he knew it would not be enough to pay the bills and other basic living expenses. Rent, utilities, food and health insurance all added up, and it was not like he was a teenager just starting out who would be happy with any little space and eating cheap fast food every day; he was a grown man with responsibilities and a life he had already been building for five years now. To start over at this point would be a massive setback to everything he had accomplished since he finished college. He couldn't fail himself, and he definitely could not fail his parents, or their memory.
Douglas cast his gaze to the large family photograph taken when they had all just moved to New York when he was just seven-years-old. Lynn and Michael Blackburn happily hugged their son and only child close together at Madison Square Garden while an unknown photographer snapped the joyous family caught in their excitement at moving to one of the biggest cities in the world. All a distant memory now and one that would bring back the wonderful times but would subsequently be washed over with echoes of the night of January 16th, 2008. The night jetBlue Flight 595 went down.
The twenty-six-year-old pushed the memories from his head and turned his attention back to the paper. With another sip of coffee, he flipped over the large page, and what he saw next made his eyes swell with surprise and recognition.
Taking up a decently large section of the bottom center part of the page was an attention-grabbing advertisement with white capital letters on a black background flaunting their message:
COMING SOON!
Douglas raised an eyebrow and read on:
Fazbear's Fright:
The Horror Attraction!
Local amusement park is getting ready to scare your socks off with a new attraction based on the unsolved mysteries of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
Featuring actual relics from the decades-old pizzeria, this new attraction is guaranteed to bring back your childhood in the worst possible way!
Beside the ad was a colourless picture of a large and somewhat blocky head of an animatronic bear that Douglas remembered as belonging to the titular Freddy of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The head was one solid colour of what Douglas recalled as being a dark creamy brown with a lighter shade on his puffy muzzle, while three black freckles dotted both its sides. Freddy's large black nose was the same colour as his thick eyebrows, and squarish, human-like teeth protruded only from his lower jaw with none from his upper one.
The anthropomorphic bear's rounded, articulated ears, which could move back and forth and up and down, were nowhere to be seen as was his trademark black top hat and blue eyes. The friendly sapphire glass spheres now seemed to be replaced with two lanterns of some sort, and his mouth hung agape in a way that made Douglas feel that the once bright and cheery mascot was calling out for help.
Looking at the photo made something stir inside Douglas's mind... a faint memory languishing in the corridors of recollection. Pizza... candy... whizz-banging arcade games... cake and lots of singing; it was all just wisps, tiny breaths of remembrances from his early childhood.
He definitely knew he visited Freddy Fazbear's Pizza when he was a child of about five or six. The children's songs, the restaurant decor, the greasy food and the animatronics were rooted firmly in his mind and he knew that Freddy himself was always his favourite. Even now, he still held a certain fondness for the bear with his twinkling blue eyes, black top hat, bowtie and microphone clutched constantly in his right hand. But what really drew Douglas to Freddy was his deep and sweet voice which made him sound dim-witted, but nevertheless a loving and kind friend that made one feel like the most special person on the planet.
Yet, strangely, apart from the few echoes of times long past in his mind, Douglas could not remember anything else about that part of his childhood. Between the one or two visits he recalled and the move to New York back in late 1993, everything was blank. There was nothing.
But there was that strange dream he kept having every so often where he would wake up in a darkened Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, seeing through the eyes of Freddy himself with an inactive Bonnie and Chica at his sides and distorted, almost demonic-like children's laughter echoing throughout the room. All he could do was move his (or Freddy's) head from side to side to look at his band mates, and it always ended the exact same way – with the laughter becoming more frantic and crazed, static clouding his vision, and a dull but loud electronic sound pealing through his eardrums – and then he would abruptly wake up.
Douglas could never explain it, and when he first told his parents about it, they were very quick to dismiss it as nothing more than a dream of him wanting to go back to his old home in Pennsylvania and to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
But after the crash of Flight 595, and the burial of his parents, Douglas decided to sell his newly-inherited home of fourteen years and move back to Pennsylvania because while he was happy in New York, he always felt a longing for Penn State with its slower pace of life, friendlier people and quietness. It had been, after all, his place of birth.
Closing his eyes and shaking his head with dismissal, Douglas turned his attention back to the Fazbear's Fright ad. Beneath the announcement was an opening for a job written in smaller text. It read:
Help Wanted:
Opening for a part-time/full-time Security Guard for Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction.
Must be able to work night shifts 7 days a week from 12 AM to 6 PM.
. No experience required.
. Be authorized to work in the United States.
. Background check not required.
. Minimum age – 18 years and over.
Pay is $50 per hour.
Call today or leave a message at (717) 368-4527 to schedule an interview.
Douglas's brown eyes widened again when he saw the hourly rate of pay.
"$50 an hour?!" he questioned aloud in puzzlement, "I only made half of that at the magazine! Do these people realize how much money they're giving away for this job?"
He knew by doing some quick maths in his head that at $50 an hour, six hours a night every day for a week, he would be earning roughly $2100 a week for a grand total of $8400 a month! That would more than cover his bills and living expenses, and leave enough remaining for some savings. But there had to be a catch... if they were offering so much money, why would Fazbear's Fright need to put out an ad in the paper that stated no experience and background check were required? It seemed too good to be true, but Douglas knew he had to at least make the effort to see what Fazbear's Fright was all about; it was better than just sitting idly at home waiting for a job to fall into his lap.
Douglas picked up his black landline telephone and anxiously dialed the number in the advertisement. The phone rang once, twice, three times and then someone answered; it was a clear male voice with a light Texan accent mixed with a hint of a Wisconsin one.
"Hello, Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction. This is Neil Cave speaking. How may I help you?"
"Good Morning, Sir. My name is Douglas Blackburn and I am calling about the newspaper advertisement you placed in the paper?"
"Oh yes, the security guard opening."
"Right. Um, I would like to schedule an appointment, if possible, whenever it is convenient for you. I am very interested in the post. Is it still available?"
"It sure is. You are the only one who has called about it so far. You can come over anytime after 11, but Jason Simpson's the one you'll have to speak to; he's the owner."
"That'll be just fine. What's the address?"
"It's in the outskirts of Harrisburg at 1331 West Kirton Drive; it's next to some woods and has a huge sign with bright green letters. You can't miss it."
"OK thanks, Mr. Cave, that's not too far from where I live. I'll be there later. Have a good day and thank you."
"No problem. See you later."
And with that, Douglas hung up the phone and did a little fist pump in the air while grinning widely. This was sure to be a slam dunk!
"Well, I better get something to eat now and then get ready soon." he said as he looked up at the clock hung up on the wall which read 8:47 AM.
"This is gonna be interesting." Douglas added, not knowing that this trip to Fazbear's Fright would mean the beginning of many nights of terror to come. A door to the past was beginning to open now, and it was a door that he would never be able to close on his own again.
10:50 AM - 1331 West Kirton Drive – Outside Fazbear's Fright
"This is it?" emitted Douglas when the bus he was on rumbled noisily away down the street from the bus stop. "Where's the amusement park? The rides? The concession stands?"
There was practically nothing.
Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction was creepy, but a bit underwhelming. A dull and dirty-looking gray building spread itself imposingly like a sinister shadow over a barren wasteland of cracked concrete and half-choked weeds that sprouted provokingly through the spidery fissures.
Douglas stepped closer to the property for a better look and observed that despite its pitiful shortcomings, it more than made up for it in sheer size and foreboding atmosphere. The building itself was huge and took up practically the entire lot with only a ten-foot high chain-link fence encircling the entire compound and locked off only with a sole gate at the front. The roof was covered with sheets of corrugated galvanized iron that was reddened with rust from years of exposure to the elements, while spray-painted all over the facade were tantalizing messages in black, purple and red to draw viewers in.
BITE OF 87
IT'S ME!
LITTLE CHILDREN BEWARE!
READY FOR FREDDY?
YOU CAN'T
The phrases criss-crossed this way and that, some large and some small, others were barely legible. But the thing that grabbed Douglas's attention the most was the huge sign positioned brazenly over the solitary door on top of the roof. The sign read:
FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT: THE HORROR ATTRACTION
Get ready to be scared... really scared!
The letters were written in large, bright, slime green letters that looked like they were going to drip right off the sign, and Douglas found it resembled the Goosebumps logo from his childhood favourite series of books. But rising above the cheesy lettering were eerie depictions of the animatronic characters from Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy all manifested hauntingly in the form of shadowy silhouettes with only bright white teeth and menacing eyes of scarlet leering hungrily at passers-by. Looming above the shady quartet on the sign was a giant, decayed-looking pizza pie that dripped spookily with blood in place of tomato sauce and garnished with human body parts and skin in place of pepperoni and cheese.
"Well, if they really wanted to up the creep factor on this place, they sure as hell succeeded." confirmed Douglas. He also noticed there were no windows on any part of the building. It made the whole structure resemble an above ground burial vault ready to welcome one of the dearly departed.
"Here goes nothing." continued the man to himself before raising his fist to knock on the heavy metal door, when suddenly there came a voice.
"Hey, can we help you or something?"
Douglas swiftly turned around to spot a man and a woman dressed entirely in black heading his way on foot. The white-skinned twosome appeared to be a bit older than him in their late twenties and both were slightly above average in height.
"Uh, yeah... I'm here about the job opening? The security guard? I was the one who called earlier." explained Douglas as the man and woman finished walking up to him.
The fit and trim man was a few inches taller than Douglas, with short, tousled, light brown hair, and sported long and thick eyebrows that arched dramatically over celestial blue-coloured eyes. There was a certain sweet and gentle vibe he gave off that quickly put Douglas at ease, along with the friendly smile that spread on his face when he recognized the voice on the phone.
"Oh right, you're Douglas Blackburn. We spoke on the phone earlier." he noted before extending his hand for Douglas to shake it. "I'm Neil Cave by the way."
"Pleasure to meet you, Neil." greeted Douglas in response just as the young woman held out her hand as well.
"Nina Hunte." she declared, also shaking Douglas's brown-skinned hand when Neil was finished.
He noticed she was rather pretty with typical Nordic features and natural, full red lips. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back into a straight ponytail hanging almost to her waist; big brown eyes, rich as chocolate fudge, blinked unassumingly under thin-plucked eyebrows. But, unlike Neil, there was a certain undercurrent of seriousness about Nina that betrayed her youthful femininity, one that subtly let Douglas know not to push her buttons too far.
"Nice to meet you too, Nina." smiled Douglas, who surreptitiously eyed their outfits.
Both were dressed similarly in black clothing, perhaps casual uniforms of some sort, consisting of black T-shirts, black jeans, black and white Converse All Stars (low-cut in Nina's case, high-cut in Neil's) and black hoodies. On Nina's head was a black baseball cap that had her ponytail pulled through the back with the letters "FF" written in the same slime green dripping font as the building's sign. The same creepy letters were emblazoned in large across Neil's shirt whereas Nina's remained bare.
All the black clothing and dull colours of the surroundings made Douglas feel as if he was overdressed and out of place in his cream slacks and blue short-sleeved dress shirt.
"You're a little early." spoke up Neil Cave, checking his wristwatch, "Jason and Peter haven't gotten here yet. Do you mind if we call you Doug, by the way?"
"Sure, no problemo. I just wanted to get here a bit early, you know, make a good impression and all for your boss." answered Douglas, also checking his watch.
Nina folded her arms, "Trust me, all good impressions are lost on Jason Simpson."
"What do you mean by that?" queried a puzzled Douglas, also folding his arms.
"You'll see eventually. Don't worry." assured Nina with a hint of a smirk on her face.
"Well, what can you tell me about this place? This is the first time I'm hearing about Fazbear's Fright."
Neil began to explain, "You ever went to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza back in the day it was open and running?"
"Yeah, when I little."
"So you know about all the murders and missing children incidents and stuff, right?"
"No... I lived in New York for most of my life. When I came back, I was so busy with my job and setting up house, I didn't have much time to look up old news."
"OK, well, you see, it all started back in 1978 when Fred—"
BEEP! BEEP!
All three turned their attentions rapidly to the source of the sound that sharply cut off Neil, only to see a large black van coming at breakneck speed to where they were standing.
"Is he out of his mind?!" promptly exclaimed Nina, standing in front of Douglas and Neil and waving her arms frantically for the vehicle to stop.
SKREEEEEEEE!
The van came to a screeching halt mere meters from Nina and company; its passengers most definitely reeling from whiplash. Douglas took several discreet deep breaths to bring his heart rate back down to normal.
"What the hell was that all about? Who are these people?" he asked, stepping forward to peer through the van's tinted glass.
The driver's window rolled down and almost instantly the trio's nostrils were assailed with the overpowering scent of marijuana.
"Heyyyyyy... wassup dudes and dudette. Me and my bro Peter, were, like, totally riding some double overheads back there! Did you, like, see it?"
Douglas cringed inwardly and bit his lower lip to keep from grimacing when a stereotypical surfer dude-sounding voice, obviously high as a kite, issued from inside the van and played havoc with his eardrums. A moment later, the voice's owner stepped out and Douglas had to clench his jaw shut to keep his mouth from dropping open.
If there could be one person who embodied every aspect of surfer dudes seen on film and TV, it was this guy. Everything from his mop of peroxide-bleached blond hair to his well-tanned, toned body and the flip-flops that slapped the pavement as he walked closer just screamed, "Look at me! I surf!"
Now that he was right in front of Douglas, the latter could not help but notice how much the man reminded him of a younger version of Owen Wilson. With strikingly similar features, bone structure, hairstyle and even the same shade of blue for his eyes; he could almost pass for the actor's twin.
He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties, and was clad in a pair of sunset orange swim trunks covered with designs of white coconut trees with a black Fazbear's Fright T-shirt pulled over his lean, buff body. A white puka shell necklace encircled his neck, while both wrists had several colourful hemp bracelets fastened round them. A pair of folded sunshades hung from his shirt's neck.
"I thought people like this only existed in movies! Who the hell is this idiot?!" thought Douglas, unfolding his arms and smiling insincerely when the guy flashed him a row of bleached pearly whites.
"Oh yeah, we saw it alright." confirmed Nina in a sarcastic tone, "We nearly got run over by it, too."
"Sweet!" grinned the surfer dude, turning his twinkling gaze to Douglas whom he towered over at six feet three inches. "Who's the new dude, sistah?"
"This is Douglas Blackburn." Nina relayed. "He's here about the security guard job. Neil called you about it earlier this morning."
"Oh shit, yeah, totally, I remember now." chortled the towhead. "Name's Jason Simpson, bro."
"Wait you're Jason Simpson? You're the owner?" questioned Douglas in a dumbfounded voice.
"The one and only, dude. That's Jason as in J-A-S-O-N." he spelt out with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
"Thanks, I know how to spell "Jason." came the curt remark.
"Sweet." nodded the fake blond.
"Don't forget about me, bro!" called out another voice from the van.
Douglas turned his focus to see another man heading their way; he was a little shorter than Jason but sported a strong, stocky build with a brown crew cut and dark blue eyes. Whereas Jason Simpson strongly resembled Owen Wilson, this new guy was reminiscent of a less threatening version of the young Biff Tannen from "Back to the Future".
"Petey, my man!" hollered Jason joyfully. "Come meet the new dude, Dougie! He wants to work with us!"
"Awesome bro!" simpered Peter, giving Douglas a brofist to which the latter responded accordingly. "Hope you brought your brown pants cus we got some scary shit in there."
"I'm good thanks." Douglas replied, a little annoyed at Jason's patronizing use of the pet form of his name.
"Doug, this is Peter McNamee." introduced Neil, who had remained quiet until now. "He's been helping us set up Fazbear's Fright for the grand opening next week."
"Good to meet you, Peter." acknowledged Douglas, noticing that Peter was dressed identically to Neil but with white high tops instead of the Converses the latter wore.
"Look, if he ever bothers you, Doug, come talk to me." declared Nina, never taking her eyes of her co-worker.
"What do you mean by – ACK!" started Douglas, only to be suddenly put in a playful headlock from behind by Peter who started giving him a hard noogie, much to his chagrin.
"Aww... don't be like that, Nina." mocked Peter, stopping the noogie and hugging Douglas closer with his headlock. "Dougie and I will be best buddies from now on. Won't we Dougie?"
"Yes... just... best... buddies! AARGH!" he struggled.
"Knock it off already." glared Nina with a scowl. "You wanna scare him away or something?"
"Yeah, lay off for a bit, dude." half-ordered half-joked Jason. "Dougie and I gotta talk business."
"OK." said Peter, promptly releasing Douglas who coughed a bit before smoothing his messed up hair.
"So dude, you wanna be my security guard?" asked Jason, leaning against the building's gray wall.
"Well, um yeah, I saw the ad in the paper, but I've never been a security guard before, and I don't really fully understand what this place is all about." replied Douglas as he tucked in his shirt. "You said this was an amusement park... but where are all the rides and stuff? Is it all inside the building?"
"Oh no, bro, that's Phase II of my plan for Fazbear's Fright. We're still on Phase I which is, like, totally nearly complete."
"I see, well, Neil was about to tell me more about this place and Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Something about missing children and murders?"
"Yeah, but let me show you inside. It'll be better that way." said Jason, taking out a ring with three keys from his swim trunks' pocket and pushing one into the metal door's lock.
Douglas turned to Nina, Neil and Peter, "You guys coming?"
Neil shook his head, "Nope. We got a ton of stuff to offload from the van; we'll see you on the outside later."
GRRROOOOAANNNN... went the weighty door's hinges as Jason pulled the now unlocked entrance open. It was completely dark inside.
"Are you ready for Freddy?" he prodded in a scary voice often heard in carnival haunted houses.
"Bring it. I'm ready for Freddy."
Author's Note:
One of the things I changed was that instead of (presumably) Jeremy Fitzgerald having those strange dreams of the animatronics at night where he's seeing through Freddy's eyes, I decided to make it so that Douglas was having them for most of his life. There is a very good reason for this and it will become clearer later on as things heat up.
When I wrote the supporting characters, I did it as if I were casting a movie and so I imagined certain Hollywood actors in the roles -
Neil Cave looks like Chace Crawford, Nina Hunte looks like Bridgette Wilson-Sampras, Peter McNamee resembles Thomas F. Wilson, and Jason Simpson looks like a younger Owen Wilson.
As for who Vincent DiCarlo looks like, I will save that for later. ;-)
I hope you all are enjoying the story thus far.