Romans & histoires Freddy Fazbear Music Box

Yoel growled impatiently, "What's the holdup? Is she still playing games? She is wasting Elaine's time!" The assistant, trembling, stammered, "Mr. Dalton, Mrs. Dalton... she's dead. There's no sign of life. The room smells of decay, and her body... It's starting to decompose..." Shock rippled through the room as everyone realized the truth. On the night meant to celebrate Elaine's birthday, a grim and horrifying reality emerged from the shadows. She was having fun with everyone at the party, and I had suffocated to death in the basement.

"I'm almost certain she has one exactly like this." Fred stared at the object as if it would come to life. He started turning the circles, like a nervous tic. He closed it, opened it, turned it one way, then another, until he smiled and wound up the box, making the music play. Then he went back to turning the circles. The music stopped, and he repeated the process. He did this about ten times. I was ready to tell him to stop with that irritating music when he wound it up one more time, turned the circles, and smiled.

“I will finish this. For Edgar. For Jonathan. And… for myself. Too many victims have fallen because of me and all these problems.” — Rain poured against the large window. Fredrick sat with his back to the table, staring blankly outside. In his hand, a small wooden music box—one of Jonathan’s childhood keepsakes. The music played softly: the gentle chime of “Clair de Lune”… Flashback Young Jonathan was five years old at that time. He ran through the backyard of their luxurious house, cheerful, his blond hair wet from the rain. He danced in circles, carrying the music box Fredrick had given him for his birthday.

Somehow, Freddy wasn’t that angry, he laughed quietly, it wasn’t a joyous laugh, from the look in his eyes, it was pure evil laughter. “You’re really a strong one for being conscious after receiving Hatake’s nab, it was meant to take you out instantly, but I’m happy you’re still conscious to hear me,” Freddy started, he took out another marijuana from his inner jacket pocket and lighted it up before he continued.

Sitting atop it was a carousel that played music as it spun. There was a small drawer beneath it. Leonardo came up to Tyr with the music box in hand. "This music box was your mother's favorite thing when she was a child. It has a recording function. The song that plays on it was something your mother had personally recorded." Tyr pressed the ‘play’ button on the music box. Twenty years had passed, yet it still worked. Soon the carousel began to turn and light up with colorful lights. At the same time, an ethereal voice rang out, singing a song.

But when I clicked the listing, one photograph froze me in place. A music box. Delicate, ornate, carved with detail so fine it was unmistakable. I leaned closer to the screen, my chest tightening. I’d seen it before. Not in person, but in a photograph. I pulled up another tab and searched, sifting through social media posts until I found it—an old picture of Scarlett and her mother in what was clearly her childhood bedroom. Scarlett’s smile in that photo was unguarded, free in a way I’d rarely seen since. Behind her, sitting on the vanity, was the very same music box.

The high-pitched ringing in my ears stopped, replaced by a low, rhythmic hum that felt like a mother’s heartbeat. In the center of the room was a simple, wooden cradle—the only thing that hadn't turned to dust or crystal. Inside the cradle lay a music box made of "Starlight-Iron." "It’s not a weapon," Félix whispered, his hand finding mine. "It’s a Dampener." I reached out and turned the key.

I swiped to answer. It was Silas. He was still in my office, but now he was holding a small, silver music box. My music box. The one my father gave me when I was four. "You have such a beautiful home, Hazel," Silas said. He turned the key on the box, and the tinkling melody filled the air. It was the same lullaby Damien had whistled. "It’s a pity I have to burn it. But first, I think we should talk about Bryan."

Baby shark doo doo doo doo doo doo… My head guard slowly looked up, his face pale with humiliation. “Sir…” he whispered, voice shaking. “It’s not a bomb.” The song continued happily. Baby shark doo doo doo doo doo doo… My jaw tightened so hard pain shot through my skull. Freddy hadn’t just fooled me. He had walked into my house alone, threatened me, kneeled me down, and offered me a devil’s deal. Then he walked out untouched and left me standing there listening to children’s music like a complete idiot.