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Fredbear's Family Diner.

The restaurant where I had to take my little brother Steve for his cake party. Eww. I always hated cake. It just seemed... pointless to me. I couldn't really explain it. Why, I was far more of a vegetable sort of person! I ushered Steve into the diner, where Fredbear Jr., a brown bear that looked almost the same as the main mascot, welcomed him in.

"You're Steven Matthews!" he said in a clear, almost human sounding voice. "This is your party!"

Steve's four friends, Freddy, Barney, Caitlin and Felix, were dancing around Spring Bonnie, a golden rabbit who in time I'd grow to hate. Caitlin paused on seeing my little brother, and beckoned him forth. She saw me in the doorway and waved. I smiled back at her.

"Steve, I'll pick you up later when it's over." I called, walking out of the restaurant.

It was just then that I realised that my mother had unintentionally driven away from the diner without me in her car. We lived miles away from the place too, and I had no clue of the route home. Unsure what to do, I slumped down into the corner and started to cry. Usually I don't cry, but I had to make an exception at a time like this.

It was then that the purple car pulled up, and a man as purple as the car itself got out.

"Hey you seem sad, lil' kid." he said in a caring tone. "What's wrong with you?"

"Mom told me not to talk to strangers." I muttered under my breath.

"Well I ain't no stranger. Name's Vincent. Vincent Purple."

He held out a hand, as if for me to shake it. I just backed up against the wall. I did not like this strange, purple man. But if you saw a
purple man, you'd be scared too.

"You ain't gonna be nice, hey? Then I ain't gonna be nice either!"

I didn't like his tone when he said that. I looked up, seeing that he had produced a sharp knife from his pocket. I wanted to run, but I was pinned down by fear. He drew the knife forwrds and cut into my cheek, dragging the knife from just under my eye to the top of my mouth. I screamed in pain, but no-one heard me. There was no-one there, no-one except this evil purple man. After he was done with that, he stood back to admire his work. "You ain't quite cryin' forever yet." he said with an evil smile on his purple face. He, this time, thrusted the knife into my right eye and continued to press until the entire blade was inside my head. I was still alive, trying to scream for help. I remember the blood splattering onto the diner's window. I remember Vincent drawing out the knife, covered with bloth blood and bits of my own brain. That was the last thing I remembered.

Then I was dead.

"Jack! Jack! Wake up!"

The voice was unfamiliar.

"You're next. Do you wanna go, or not?"

"Huh? Go where?" I said sleepily. I did not quite know where I was.

"To the Ghost King, of course! You've got to decide your afterlife!"

"So I am dead..." I whispered.

"Well yeah." said the voice. It belonged to a little green ghost. He was about the same size as a dog, and he fluttered around. "And before you ask, I know your name because it's already on our death records. Someone dies every three seconds, you see."

I stood up shakily and realised the pain in my face, particularly my right eye. I put a hand up to touch it before the small green ghost interruped with an "Eww. Don't touch that, it's GROSS."

I took his word for it and headed through the doorway down a long dark tunnel with a dim green light at the end. I ran and on reaching the end, I saw a massive greenish ghost reading a book.

"Sit there." he said, not looking up. "Well, your time has come. We've got some questions."

I wriggled back in the chair.

"First of all, what's your name?" The Ghost King, as I assumed he was, asked in his loud, deep voice.

"Jack." I responded. "Jack Matthews."

"And how old were you when you died?"

"Oh, not very old. Just thirteen."

"Let me tell you one thing." he said quite creepily. "You're not going to age physically. But you are going to age mentally. In six years' time, you can call yourself an adult."

That wasn't really surprising.

"Now listen close. Would you like to be a ghost, or-" - he points to a black, humanoid creature with silvery eyes and sharp, white teeth - "you can be that."

"I want to be that!" I said enthusiastically.

"Now, now, there's the pros and cons of both of 'em. Ghosts can go through walls and possess living beings. They also can't be hurt. But tgey're invisible to everyone except the person who killed them."

Hmm. I didn't really like the idea of only being seen by Vincent.

"But the others? Well. You can fly. You're immortal. You can teleport. You have even more than that. But, now listen, there's a price to pay. There's one thing you must do every day. If you don't do it, you'll be banished here forever. There'll also be one thing that will make you so angry, you'll kill the nearest human. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Yep!" I said happily. Little did I know I'd rarely be happy from now on.

He looks up from his book at my face. "Dear mighty me!" he screams. "How in here did you die?"

"Murdered." I said.

"If you ever want anyone to look at you again, you'll need this."

He tossed me a white mask with purple stripes that matched my tear-like scars. I put it on before a purple tornado surrounded me.

I hated what followed. I felt like I was being torn apart. My teeth, which had always been slightly crooked, seemed to elongate and only worsen their appearance. My skin gradually changed from olive to an inky black, and my fingers intertwined until only three remained. They sharpened into claws. My hair just sort of grew back into my head, like it was never there. My nose also seemed to just sort of... go. The King handed me a mirror and I was shocked to discover that where I should've had a silver eye, there was just an empty socket. As I looked into the glass, the world seemed to twist and bend around me.

"Mom?"

"Hee hee! Don't be tho thilly! He's not your mom!"

"That raises the question: what is he?"

"Darling, I bet under that mask is a beautiful face."

"Hahaha!"

There were so many different voices. I opened my only eye to see five inquisitive robots. There was a blue bunny wity big green eyes. There was a yellow creature who looked like a chicken without a beak. There was a light brown bear in a top hat, and a pink and white fox wearing lipstick, and a young boy holding a red balloon. They were like twisted versions of the Fredbear crew.

"I think we thurprithed him." observed the chicken. "I'm Chica!"

"Name's Bonnie." says the bue bunny.

"I am Freddy Fazbear." says the bear calmly. He didn't seem excited about my arrival.

"I'm Foxy, darling." the pink and white fox says. "I'd like to know you better."

"Hi." says the kid. "I'm Balloon Boy, but you can call me BB!"

"And you are...?" Chica asks. "Are you a puppet?"

"No, but call me that. I'm Puppet." I say with confidence. "Do any of you know how to make cake?"

At this, Chica rushes off.

I was starting anew. And for now, it was only going to improve.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Fredbear's Family Diner.

The restaurant where I had to take my little brother Steve for his cake party. Eww. I always hated cake. It just seemed... pointless to me. I couldn't really explain it. Why, I was far more of a vegetable sort of person! I ushered Steve into the diner, where Fredbear Jr., a brown bear that looked almost the same as the main mascot, welcomed him in.

"You're Steven Matthews!" he said in a clear, almost human sounding voice. "This is your party!"

Steve's four friends, Freddy, Barney, Caitlin and Felix, were dancing around Spring Bonnie, a golden rabbit who in time I'd grow to hate. Caitlin paused on seeing my little brother, and beckoned him forth. She saw me in the doorway and waved. I smiled back at her.

"Steve, I'll pick you up later when it's over." I called, walking out of the restaurant.

It was just then that I realised that my mother had unintentionally driven away from the diner without me in her car. We lived miles away from the place too, and I had no clue of the route home. Unsure what to do, I slumped down into the corner and started to cry. Usually I don't cry, but I had to make an exception at a time like this.

It was then that the purple car pulled up, and a man as purple as the car itself got out.

"Hey you seem sad, lil' kid." he said in a caring tone. "What's wrong with you?"

"Mom told me not to talk to strangers." I muttered under my breath.

"Well I ain't no stranger. Name's Vincent. Vincent Purple."

He held out a hand, as if for me to shake it. I just backed up against the wall. I did not like this strange, purple man. But if you saw a
purple man, you'd be scared too.

"You ain't gonna be nice, hey? Then I ain't gonna be nice either!"

I didn't like his tone when he said that. I looked up, seeing that he had produced a sharp knife from his pocket. I wanted to run, but I was pinned down by fear. He drew the knife forwrds and cut into my cheek, dragging the knife from just under my eye to the top of my mouth. I screamed in pain, but no-one heard me. There was no-one there, no-one except this evil purple man. After he was done with that, he stood back to admire his work. "You ain't quite cryin' forever yet." he said with an evil smile on his purple face. He, this time, thrusted the knife into my right eye and continued to press until the entire blade was inside my head. I was still alive, trying to scream for help. I remember the blood splattering onto the diner's window. I remember Vincent drawing out the knife, covered with bloth blood and bits of my own brain. That was the last thing I remembered.

Then I was dead.

"Jack! Jack! Wake up!"

The voice was unfamiliar.

"You're next. Do you wanna go, or not?"

"Huh? Go where?" I said sleepily. I did not quite know where I was.

"To the Ghost King, of course! You've got to decide your afterlife!"

"So I am dead..." I whispered.

"Well yeah." said the voice. It belonged to a little green ghost. He was about the same size as a dog, and he fluttered around. "And before you ask, I know your name because it's already on our death records. Someone dies every three seconds, you see."

I stood up shakily and realised the pain in my face, particularly my right eye. I put a hand up to touch it before the small green ghost interruped with an "Eww. Don't touch that, it's GROSS."

I took his word for it and headed through the doorway down a long dark tunnel with a dim green light at the end. I ran and on reaching the end, I saw a massive greenish ghost reading a book.

"Sit there." he said, not looking up. "Well, your time has come. We've got some questions."

I wriggled back in the chair.

"First of all, what's your name?" The Ghost King, as I assumed he was, asked in his loud, deep voice.

"Jack." I responded. "Jack Matthews."

"And how old were you when you died?"

"Oh, not very old. Just thirteen."

"Let me tell you one thing." he said quite creepily. "You're not going to age physically. But you are going to age mentally. In six years' time, you can call yourself an adult."

That wasn't really surprising.

"Now listen close. Would you like to be a ghost, or-" - he points to a black, humanoid creature with silvery eyes and sharp, white teeth - "you can be that."

"I want to be that!" I said enthusiastically.

"Now, now, there's the pros and cons of both of 'em. Ghosts can go through walls and possess living beings. They also can't be hurt. But tgey're invisible to everyone except the person who killed them."

Hmm. I didn't really like the idea of only being seen by Vincent.

"But the others? Well. You can fly. You're immortal. You can teleport. You have even more than that. But, now listen, there's a price to pay. There's one thing you must do every day. If you don't do it, you'll be banished here forever. There'll also be one thing that will make you so angry, you'll kill the nearest human. Are you up to the challenge?"

"Yep!" I said happily. Little did I know I'd rarely be happy from now on.

He looks up from his book at my face. "Dear mighty me!" he screams. "How in here did you die?"

"Murdered." I said.

"If you ever want anyone to look at you again, you'll need this."

He tossed me a white mask with purple stripes that matched my tear-like scars. I put it on before a purple tornado surrounded me.

I hated what followed. I felt like I was being torn apart. My teeth, which had always been slightly crooked, seemed to elongate and only worsen their appearance. My skin gradually changed from olive to an inky black, and my fingers intertwined until only three remained. They sharpened into claws. My hair just sort of grew back into my head, like it was never there. My nose also seemed to just sort of... go. The King handed me a mirror and I was shocked to discover that where I should've had a silver eye, there was just an empty socket. As I looked into the glass, the world seemed to twist and bend around me.

"Mom?"

"Hee hee! Don't be tho thilly! He's not your mom!"

"That raises the question: what is he?"

"Darling, I bet under that mask is a beautiful face."

"Hahaha!"

There were so many different voices. I opened my only eye to see five inquisitive robots. There was a blue bunny wity big green eyes. There was a yellow creature who looked like a chicken without a beak. There was a light brown bear in a top hat, and a pink and white fox wearing lipstick, and a young boy holding a red balloon. They were like twisted versions of the Fredbear crew.

"I think we thurprithed him." observed the chicken. "I'm Chica!"

"Name's Bonnie." says the bue bunny.

"I am Freddy Fazbear." says the bear calmly. He didn't seem excited about my arrival.

"I'm Foxy, darling." the pink and white fox says. "I'd like to know you better."

"Hi." says the kid. "I'm Balloon Boy, but you can call me BB!"

"And you are...?" Chica asks. "Are you a puppet?"

"No, but call me that. I'm Puppet." I say with confidence. "Do any of you know how to make cake?"

At this, Chica rushes off.

I was starting anew. And for now, it was only going to improve.