Before we begin, I would like to thank Michael_V for letting me use his Fredbear model for the cover, he has been a huge help with this!

Also, expect another story from me soon- it's in its planning stages right now, but I can assure it'll be heading to and my own personalized website once it's 100% ready! Enjoy the story ;)

As I heard my own breathing, there I was- standing inside the one restaurant from my childhood, now rotting in the middle of no-where. Not to mention the large destroyed bear ripped straight from my forgotten memories standing right before me- staring at me with his cold, dead, animatronic eyes. It was him, the old yellow- now partially stained green- mechanical robot who constantly haunted my dreams in pursuit of something within my own mind.

I began to run away from the vision of the bear and into a curtain perfectly hiding me in the next room. I was on the stage, the exact stage blurred in my dreams- the one where the incident took place. I honestly would've preferred the blurriness rather than seeing it in all it's old glory. However, the soft touch of the curtain gave me the substantiation of calmness as I heard the squealing distant thuds of the bear suit touching the stained ground. The thuds grew louder, he must be getting closer- I would have to run soon, regardless of the current state of my feelings.

"Why did I come here, and how is he still here?", these thoughts blurred my mind as the thuds came closer. I needed to devise a plan, something to pursue if he found me. Other than the now-stained old cardboard clouds bolted on the stage wall, there was nothing to help me.

"I'm dead," I thought- "there's no way I will be able to survive this."

Just then, the curtain was tugged off of the stage, and I heard the metal beam which originally held the curtain in-place, fall to the ground. I was still facing the stage wall, but I could feel his presence directly behind me. I forcefully closed my eyes without facing him, hoping I could simply go down without a fight. Just then, I could recap every piece of information that went through my head at that exact moment, all the nightmares- all the visions, all of it. But here I am, actually inside the Fredbear building, and it was no nightmare, and the dream of the bite is nothing compared to this.

Welcome to the hell I've been experiencing for many weeks.

There he was, squirming inside the animatronic jaw as the group of children donning Freddy Fazbear masks laughed uncontrollably.

"I have to save them," I thought "I need to take him down from there."

However, I knew, deep inside I couldn't do anything. I would be too chicken to run and tell, and I was frozen with fear as the familiar Fredbear song playing through small speakers glitched out and the animatronic began to spin left and right. My guilt started to settle deep inside of me.

What happened next shaped the rest of my childhood: the bear's jaw closed. The child stopped trying to escape, eyes turning dull and lifeless. The teeth shoved through his little head, crushing it almost instantly, and I covered my eyes, terrified and regretful. The children's laughter turned into stunned silence.

This is nothing but a dream, a forgotten childhood memory that continues to bug me every night. I have tried to ignore it whenever it occurred, recently, but it never works. Although the memory is blurred, I can still make it out as much as I could all those years ago. The nightmares are, surprisingly, always exactly the same.

This time, I will finally let it out.

I flipped open a notebook full of past investigations. Without a moment of hesitation, I flipped to a new, blank page, and began to write.

"I am James Govere, an investigator."

No, that's not good enough. Who cares about my job? I erased my name and career and started over.

"My name is James Govere, 32 years old. For years, now, I have been having a horrific nightmare that has given me much stress- a memory that refuses to go away."

It felt great to finally let out the feelings locked within my brain. I actually managed to pinpoint a whole abbreviation of details within minutes. I was extremely anxious to share this experience with somebody, even if they thought I was losing my mind. I even took the time to draw a small picture at the bottom of the page, depicting the child inside Fredbear's jaws.

My eyes scanned the page one last time, to make sure I didn't forget any important details, before I shut the notebook. I pulled my watch out for the exact time- I was late for work. I hurriedly jumped in the shower, and afterwards began to eat breakfast. I quickly walked out to my car once I was ready, and put the car in drive.

I worked at a small building towards the end of town, and I have a few clients ready to talk about their propositions. I hope Darla, my assistant, somehow keeps them preoccupied. Halfway there, I was trapped in traffic so heavy that I actually wasn't moving at all. I banged my hand against the wheel and the car emitted a loud honk, indicating I was in a rush. Sure enough... the traffic refused to change, and I continued to not move.

I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket, and I assumed it was Darla. I picked up the phone and began the call with a swift "How do'ya do misses?". The voice on the receiving end - soft, hesitant yet determined, like always - replied with "Where are you?" I said the usual answer I gave when I was late - "I just- had to do some things before I left my house." By this time, she already heard that excuse a million times. After a short, impetuous conversation, Darla let me know that the clients have yet to arrive. That way, I wouldn't keep anyone waiting.

It was about a full thirty minutes before I arrived at the building. Once I did, I saw Darla was watching out the window holding a file in her hand. I stepped inside, onto the checker-patterned floor, and walked over to her. Darla was barely my height, I was about 5'9, meaning she was close to about 5'4- we always used to joke about how much taller I was when I first took up the job. Also, not to mention the fact that since she was the usual blonde hair, blue eyed girl that anyone in the country would recognize from a mile away, that was; until she dyed her hair brown. I always wondered if I was the reason why since I always joked around about her hair and eye combination as well. Not to mention a southerners accent that was so badly covered up over the years- although I never knew if she really was from the south.

"What is it?" I asked, briefly glancing at the file in her hand and then back at her friendly blue eyes. "Listen, James- a client stopped by; he insisted on me giving this to you-" she handed me a fairly organized, if small, file- "He wanted to file a missing persons report on a local pizzeria."

To be honest, I wasn't pleased with the case until I read was more of a local business, one of the last places I would have expected anything similar to a missing persons case to have happened. "Did he leave a number, or anything like that?" I asked. She quickly responded, saying every piece of contact information was inside. I let her know that I would check on this later, and I headed to my office to sort through any other cases that may require my attention.

I sat down on a chair next to my dusty desk, and pulled an ashtray close to me. I lit a cigar and began to sort through the past clients. The pizzeria report caught my eye most of the time, as I was anxious to see what was inside, but I promised myself that I would check on it later on.

After I had finished going through the reports, I glanced out the the window next to me; it was dark, and that meant it was closing time. I stood up, paused, and quickly sat back down- before I left, I had a promise to fulfill. I took the Pizzeria case, labeled under the "P" section in my divider, and began to flip it open. Nothing too interesting, simply a missing person report that went through the cops' hands without them even thoroughly checking it.

"The client says that he was related to the missing person," Darla stated, attempting to sneak a cigar out of my pack. She must've entered the room while I was busy contemplating on the file. I gave a little smirk as she moved her nimble hands over to the pack. "You're not going to try that, are you?" I asked. She seemed too young and full of life to be wasting her life on a cigar. She glanced at the cigarette, uncertain, for a brief second, before putting it down and continuing her initial sentence. "Apparently, the incident took place at some old children's pizzeria." My eyes lit up. Could it be?

"Some place called Fredbear's Family Pizza, uh- Diner. Something like that. It's been closed for a while."