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Chapter Text

For the ten year anniversary of the horrible tragedy at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, we have decided to write a special story where we ask the family members of the victims (specifically those who were interested in having their stories shared) one simple question:

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

After all of the rumors of hauntings at the pizzeria since The Missing Children Incident back in 1980, we were curious if the families believed their children still resided within the pizzeria. So we asked the ones who were interested in sharing their stories with us, and the results may actually surprise you.

Samantha “Sam” Nichols was our first interviewee, given her older sister was the first victim of The Incident.

(This interview was conducted in the Nichols Family Home in Salt Lake City. Do not attempt to contact the Nichols family, or any family mentioned in this interview)

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INTERVIEWER: Would you mind telling me about Susie before she died? What was she like?

SAMANTHA: She was always so bright and cheerful…really creative, too. Imagination was always running, you know? It’s why she loved Freddy’s so much; it felt like something that would’ve come right out of her brain.

SAM: She…wasn’t the same after Peaches got hit in that accident, though…

INTERVIEWER: I assume Peaches was the name of her old dog?

SAM: Yeah. She always treated him like her baby. She’d always make up these stories about his life, what he was doing when we weren’t around. He wasn’t just a pet to her; he was like a member of the family.

[SAM sighs, petting the head of a Border Collie that’s sitting next to the couch.]

SAM: I still don’t really know what happened. But a couple of weeks before Susie was killed, some drunk asshole hit Peaches with his car. Dad was out walking him, and he slipped free and ran out into the road. Apparently, the guy who hit Peaches just…buried him out in the woods somewhere. Didn’t even give him back to Dad.

SAM: Susie was devastated. She kept going to Freddy’s almost everyday for the next two weeks as a way of coping. Played games in the arcade, watched the band perform…anything to take her mind off of Peaches.

INTERVIEWER: Some people suspected Mr. Emily of being the murderer. What are your thoughts on that?

SAM: To be perfectly honest…I could never see him killing any of those kids, but especially not Susie. He was nothing but an absolute sweetheart to her: she used to tell us that he gave her extra tokens for the arcade a few times she went. He even told her that she could talk about what was wrong, if she wanted. He saw a sad kid and decided to try and make her happy. Never crossed any boundaries, just kept his distance and did what he thought could help cheer her up.

INTERVIEWER: I see…Can you tell me about the last time you saw Susie?

SAM: Well…I guess she wanted to try and play with me a bit that day before running off to Freddy’s like she usually did. She hid our old doll, Gretchen, somewhere in the house and told me that if I found her by the time she got back, then she’d give me a prize from the Prize Counter that night before bed. [Laughs] Though, if I’m being perfectly honest, I think she would’ve given it to me anyway. [Pause] But...she never came back. Mom and Dad got immediately concerned when she wasn’t back by 8:00. Susie generally never stayed that late, and if she was running late, or had a reason to be staying out later, she’d call from a payphone.

SAM: [Pause] For a whole year, I never found Gretchen. Didn’t want to, I guess. It made me think too hard about her.

INTERVIEWER: …Alright, here’s my last main question for you. Do you believe in ghosts?

SAM: …This might be a bit weird, but…yeah, to some degree.

SAM: It was a year after Susie vanished. A year after all those kids vanished. Mom and Dad had divorced, and Dad took the twins with him when he moved to New Harmony. I stayed with Mom in Hurricane. She enrolled both of us into therapy. I shut myself off from most of the other kids during that year. Didn’t want to talk to anybody. Some part of me wanted to believe Susie would turn up again, looking just like she did the day she disappeared.

SAM: I don’t know why, but weird things started happening before me and mom were going to move here. Stuff started moving, I started having weird dreams…I started getting interested in finding Gretchen again.

SAM: So, I started looking through everything. Looking for her. I thought maybe my brain just wanted to find Gretchen before we left. So I wouldn’t lose one of the few reminders of Susie I had left. But Susie must’ve picked a good hiding place for her.

SAM: …Then I had a strange dream one night. Well, maybe it was a dream. I dunno. Mom was working that night, so she can’t help me figure out what really happened. But…I heard whispering, sat up in bed…and there she was. Susie. Just…standing in the doorway of our old bedroom. She ducked out of the doorway and started walking down the hall, so I followed her. Why wouldn’t I? My missing sister just showed up in the middle of the night, of course that would put me on high alert.

SAM: She kept luring me through the house, just saying things like “Follow me” and “This way.” I didn’t know where she was taking me, but I just wanted her to slow down so that we could talk. I-I had so many questions, I just wanted it to be real. That she was back home, a-and not- [Voice wavers] I just wanted my big sister. That’s all I ever wanted.

SAM: Eventually, she led me to Dad’s old office. Well, more like she led me in the general direction, and for the first time since she’d disappeared, that door was finally open. So I went inside…and there was Gretchen, in an old vent. Dad never was able to get that thing closed all the way.

SAM: When I left the office, I just…saw Susie outside. Weirdly, she was..there with Chica Cluckley. Y’know, the bird animatronic from Freddy’s? Well…she started taking Susie away, and I just- I didn’t want her to leave yet. I just…I wanted to talk to her, even if it was one last time. I called out to her…and it’s like Chica let her go. She walked back to me…and I just broke. I hugged her neck like I was scared she’d just disappear again if I let go of her. For all I knew, she would. I just wanted to know where she’d been, where she was going, why she wouldn’t just come home.

SAM: It felt like I was out there for hours, crying into her dress as she just hugged me. Eventually she just told me she had to go, but to let me know that she missed me, and hoped that I’d grow up to be happy. Then she let me go, walked back over to Chica…and it’s like the dead leaves on the ground swirled up and covered them both as they walked away, and then they were gone.

SAM: I woke up in bed the next morning, Gretchen in my arms. Mom thinks I sleepwalked and found her, and that the rest of what I’d experienced was just a really vivid dream I was having at the same time. And so, that was that for about four years. [Pause]

SAM: …And then they found Susie. Inside of Chica. She was pretty badly decomposed, considering it’d been five years and she was stuck inside of an animatronic. But they noted that she had three axe wounds on the back of her head and neck. They think she didn’t suffer too much, compared to…some of the other kids. I honestly hope she didn’t.

SAM: …Some days I wonder what really happened that night. I could’ve been dreaming, could’ve been sleepwalking. Sometimes, though, I think it really was Susie. Why else would Chica have been there? I didn’t have any reason to connect my sister with Chica, especially not four years before they found Susie inside of her. I think she came to tell me goodbye, because she knew we were leaving.

SAM: I still sleep with Gretchen sometimes. Gives me comfort on some of my worse nights. It’s like Susie’s still there with me.

SAM: …So I guess, long story short, I do believe in ghosts. To some extent.

INTERVIEWER: Very interesting, Ms. Nichols. Also a rather heartbreaking look into your life. Is there anything else you’d like to say before we end the interview?

SAM: …I’d really like to think that Susie moved on. That she’s in a better place now.

SAM: But some part of me thinks she’s still there. Still in that cursed fucking place. But I’m really hoping she isn’t. She doesn’t deserve something like that.

SAM: None of those kids do.

Chapter Text

Fritz Smith Sr. was, naturally, our second interviewee, given his son was the second victim of The Incident.

(This interview was conducted at Jr’s Bar in Hurricane, Utah.)

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INTERVIEWER: Would you mind telling me about your son before he died? What was he like?

SMITH: [Sipping whiskey] Fiery, but…lonely. [Dry chuckle] Takes after 'is old man. Liked runnin’, and he was on the high school track team. Liked pirates and all that. So quiet that…it worried me.

[SMITH downs the rest of his whiskey, before gesturing for the bartender to get him another drink.]

SMITH: …Do you know why Junior was livin’ with 'is stepdad?

INTERVIEWER: …I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Smith.

SMITH: [Starts sipping new whiskey] 'Is mother was sleepin’ with the guy when Junior was just a toddler. Got pregnant with David. I was mad, sure, but…not enough to want to divorce her myself. I dunno if she thought I was, or if she just didn’t want to be with me anymore, but she divorced me. Got primary custody of Junior, but she still let me see 'im from time to time.

SMITH: …What I did see whenever he showed up…it worried me a little, can’t lie. All bruised up, rangin’ from nervous to pissed off dependin’ on the day. It wasn’t a mystery or nothin’. But…well, what could I-a done? I don’t exactly have a reputable reputation ‘round town. I’m a drunkard. [Dry, empty laugh] I’m s’prised yer takin’ what I’m sayin’ with any value, Missy.

INTERVIEWER: Well…you were his dad. And one of the first few people actually working to get him found-

SMITH: [continuing off of previous tangent] Y’know, it s’prises me sometimes. Trevor’s audacity to come in here and sit next to me, knowin’ what he was doin’ to my boy at home. To 'is own boy, too. I honestly wonder why he thought anyone didn’t know. 'Is own boy was friends with that Afton boy and the Emily Twins. Seriously, did he think that was gonna keep it hidden-?

INTERVIEWER: [cutting him off] If I may ask…Some people suspected Mr. Emily of being the murderer. What are your thoughts on that?

SMITH: [silent for a few moments, takes a sip of his whiskey] Now…while I can see why some would think that…I have my own thoughts on who did it. We’ll get there, though.

INTERVIEWER: Can you tell me about the last time you saw Junior?

SMITH: [sighs, downing his whiskey again] Stopped by my house that mornin’. Usually did that sometimes, if he had somethin’ to tell me but he wasn’t stayin’ with me for a few days. Chatted for a bit, and he told me that he just…wanted to live with me again. Wanted to bring Dave with ‘im. [Laughs] Told ‘im that the closest I could do was get that kid in foster care and then take ‘im in…but I knew why he was askin’ me that. Guess he’d reached ‘is limit. [stares blankly at the wall] Told me he loved me, and that he was goin’ to Freddy’s. That was the last time I saw my son alive, Missy.

INTERVIEWER: …I see…Well, I just have one last question for you, Mr. Smith. Do you believe in ghosts?

SMITH: [starts sipping on another glass of whiskey] Oh, now yer askin’ a real good question, Ma’am. Listen, call me crazy if ye wish, but I don’t just think ghosts are real, I know they’re real. I saw one, and it was my son’s.

SMITH: Now, about two years after they found my boy’s body, in Foxy of all things, Afton apparently thought it’d be a wild idea to open up another Freddy’s, new designs and all. Place looked real shiny ‘n new, not gonna lie, but…well, you’ve probably heard th’ news already. Five more kids, the month it fuckin’ opened. Closed down for a few months as the cops tried investigatin'. But you see…on the last day it was open, that’s when I worked the nightshift.

SMITH: [Pauses, grimacing] A shame what happened to that Fitzgerald kid, though. Had to suck for 'im, losin' his sister back in ‘80, his mom in ‘81, and then havin’ hard plastic teeth sinkin’ into ‘is skull. Witnessed ‘im gettin’ put an ambulance comin’ in for my interview. Poor kid.

SMITH: [Sips whiskey] I guess it was partially to give Afton the finger, partially to see what’d happen, but I fucked around with them robots. Wanted to give myself a challenge, y’know? I think I was… severely underestimatin’ how hostile those things would be. They were angry in a way robots aren’t meant to be naturally. But I handled it like a champ.

[SMITH pauses. He seems lost in thought.]

SMITH: But…as for what I saw…Foxy was sittin’ at the end-a the hall, starin’ me down. And it’s like he recognized me. I kept flashin’ the light - that’s, apparently, what’d keep ‘im at bay  - but…he just kept comin’. He didn’t seem angry, not anymore, but he got practically right in the office with me. And…Christ, I’d heard that Foxy was pretty banged up, but…the thing was missin’ an eye, his old peg leg, he looked like he’d gone through hell. He just sat there, tiltin' his head like a confused dog. That little Balloon Demon Thing got in my office and started laughin’ at me, but Foxy just looked at ‘im and he left. Not sure how or even why he did that, but he chased it off. 

SMITH: He stood up, best he could, and hobbled up to the desk. He stared me straight in the eyes. I guess I tried to put the mask on as a last hope, but…he just took 'is hand and pulled it down. Then he just leaned forward, and pressed ‘is forehead against my own.

[SMITH sniffles, sipping a bit more of his whiskey. His hands are shaking.]

SMITH: …T-That’s what Junior used to do with me.

[SMITH seems to pull himself back together.]

SMITH: He left not too long after. Didn’t even give me enough time to ask anythin'. He didn’t come back the rest of the night. It was only 4:30 when that happened. When my shift ended, I confronted Afton about it. I’ll rip the band-aid off; I think that purple-wearin’ fuck is the one who killed my son. And all those kids. He can sit there and act like there’s nothin’ that points to it, but he knows just as damn well as we do that he’s only a free man because the cops think he’s some saint with no reason to lie. That he’s some pinnacle of honesty and morality.

SMITH: They fired me after they figured out what I’d done to the animatronics. Told Afton that I knew my son and all those kids were still there. [bitter laugh] The funny bit is that he called me a drunk. Like I haven’t seen ‘im at this bar more times than I’ve seen him at his business. Told ‘im to go to hell with my full chest as he just gave me my pink slip and cheque and shoved me out the door.

SMITH: So I don’t just believe ghosts are real, I know they are. I fuckin’ saw one.

INTERVIEWER: That’s…my God. Uh, well, is there anything else you’d like to say before we end the interview?

[SMITH nods, before holding his hand up and downing the rest of his whiskey. The bartender looks at SMITH, making it clear that he’s had enough for that night. SMITH then turns back to look at the INTERVIEWER.]

SMITH: Just one thing. It’s for Mr. Afton, if he’s readin’ this, listenin’ to it, whatever the fuck kinda format this thing’ll be in. This is a message just for 'im.

[SMITH pauses, as though to find his words.]

SMITH: I hope you fuckin’ ROT.

Chapter Text

For interview number three, we have Jeremiah “Jeremy” Fitzgerald-Hernández, the older brother of the third victim of The Incident.

(This interview was conducted at an apartment building in Alliance, Nebraska, where the Douglas Family resides. Technically, Jeremy is just the roommate of a family member there.)

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INTERVIEWER: Would you mind telling me about your little sister? What was she like?

JEREMY: Aw man…our lil’ ray of sunshine, that’s who she was. “Girasol,” that was Ma’s nickname for her. “Sunflower.” Optimistic, happy, little ball of energy…not a single concept of Stranger Danger in that kid. [stares at the ground] Wish we could’ve instilled it in her, though. Maybe then, she’d still…

INTERVIEWER: …Still be here?

[JEREMY nods, staring blankly at the floor.]

JEREMY: …You can keep goin’, y’know.

INTERVIEWER: Just wanted to give you a minute. Anyway, next question: Some people suspected Mr. Emily of being the murderer. What are your thoughts on that?

JEREMY: [scoffs] Oh, now that’s some bullshit right there. Listen, you wanna know what makes me think it wasn’t Mr. Emily? What makes me think it was his fucking business partner? Because Mr. Emily actually did everything he could’ve to help us find Gabi quicker.

JEREMY: Now, fuckin’ imagine you’re me for a moment. Your little sister fucking vanishes at her own birthday party. But, despite that, and the fact that she vanished with a whole ass other fucking kid, the cops aren’t doing shit. Like, I dunno if they thought they were being subtle, but they really fucking weren’t. It took them a full day and a half to actually do shit. And the only reason they did anything was because Mr. Emily threatened to sue their asses.

[JEREMY pauses, taking a breath to calm himself.]

JEREMY: You know, that’s the thing that made me respect him a hell of a lot more. And honestly? I think Mr. Emily did it because he knew how he’d feel in that situation with no one willing to help or stick up for him. He knows how much that’d suck.

INTERVIEWER: Well, that’s awfully kind of him. Now, can you-?

JEREMY: Hold up, my, uh…roommate’s coming through. Hey, Mike! You’ll never guess who’s here doing my interview!

[At that moment, MICHAEL DOUGLAS* came through the living room carrying a bag with him.]

MIKE: Hey, who-? [MIKE freezes up upon seeing the INTERVIEWER, giving her an awkward look.] Oh, uh… [He waves] Hey, man. It’s, uh…been a few years, huh?

INTERVIEWER: Yeah…uh, I heard you’re going to therapy now. Hope it’s going well.

MIKE: Yeah, it actually is! Speaking of, gotta go. Tammy Schmidt’s probably waiting outside, and I don’t wanna be late or anything.

INTERVIEWER: [mild surprise] Tammy Schmidt? The woman who…uh, used to work for your dad and Mr. Emily?**

JEREMY: Nice save.

MIKE: Yep, same one! Anyway, gotta head out, she’s taking me to therapy and taking me shopping later to “treat myself,” apparently. [walks over to JEREMY and places a hand on his shoulder] Be back in a bit. Mostly gonna buy myself a new tank top, some shorts, and some stuff for painting. Also some new journals, because the one I’m writing my music in’s almost full. You know why I need the other extra one. I’ll also get some stuff to make cookies with later.

JEREMY: [laughs] Oh, you big softie! Gracias, Mickey, can’t wait!

[JEREMY seems to pause, looking over to the INTERVIEWER, before muttering a “Fuck it” under his breath.]

JEREMY: Hey. [squeezes Mike’s hand] Te amo, Zorrito.

[MIKE seems taken aback, and a bit nervous, before he sighs.]

MIKE: [whispering] Te amo. [MIKE then steps away from the pair and rushes over to the door.] Be back in a couple of hours. Oh, [turns back to the INTERVIEWER] uh, could you say ‘hi’ to Sammy for me, when you get back to Hurricane?

INTERVIEWER: Not a problem.

MIKE: Thanks a lot. Anyway, bye for real now! [With this, MIKE leaves.]

JEREMY: [sighs, then says in an affectionate tone] Still ain’t used to me doing that too much in front of people. Pendejo. How’d I get so lucky?

INTERVIEWER: Well, knowing him…makes sense, Hurricane ain’t exactly a great place to be…’out’ if you catch my drift. Speaking from some kind of experience here-

JEREMY: [scoffs] Well, if anyone down in Hurricane’s got a damn problem with it, they can say it to my face. As far as I care, they can call me any name in the book they want and condemn me to Hell just as hard, but it ain’t gonna change the fact that I’m living the life and have a great boyfriend to live it with.

JEREMY: And I want everyone in Hurricane who’ll be listening to this to get it through their thick skulls: BOY friend. His name’s Michael you assholes. Mike, Mikey, Mickey, even. That’s a dude, you dumbasses. Half of us have been calling him that since ‘80, when are the rest of you gonna catch up?

JEREMY: Now with that out of the way, you can keep going.

INTERVIEWER: Actually, I have…another question. A more personal one, so you can decline to answer this one if you want. But…how have you been doing, Jeremy? I heard Mike was going to therapy, but how’ve you been doing since the Bite?

JEREMY: Oh, not a problem. I’ve been recovering pretty good. Had to try and unfuck up my balance from where the brain damage fucked it up. It’s never gonna be what it was, I’ve accepted that, but it’s getting slightly better little by little. That’s what these bad boys are for! [gestures to some arm crutches leaned up against the chair] Don’t need ‘em all the time, but…do need ‘em a good chunk of the time. Learning to live with just one eye’s also been rough, but eh, I’ll live.

INTERVIEWER: Yeah, I kinda noticed the edge of the scar…goes through where your eye used to be.

JEREMY: Yeah, there wasn’t any salvaging that. I wear an eyepatch whenever I leave the house, don’t exactly have the cash to get a fake eyeball or something. Don’t really want one, either.

INTERVIEWER: Interesting…anyway, back to the main interview. My next question was…Can you tell me about the last time you saw your sister?

JEREMY: Well, we were there at her party, and she wanted some soda, but…well, she didn’t like the orange soda at Freddy’s, so I went to go get some from a convenience store nearby. Ma and Dad were running a bit late.

[A pause.]

JEREMY: I was only gone for half an hour.

[JEREMY wipes away a tear.]

JEREMY: Y’know, back then, I was such a hopeful lil’ guy. So optimistic. I thought at the time, really thought, no one could be that fucking evil. That no one could be that fucking cruel.

[JEREMY starts crying, his breath shaking slightly.]

JEREMY: It was her birthday.

[JEREMY shakes.]

JEREMY: [angry tone] She was only five years old.

JEREMY: [sniffling] You- You wanna know the really fucked up bit? After they found her body inside that fucking bear, Dad asked the coroner what happened to her. I don’t fully know why he did that, maybe it was morbid curiosity, maybe he just wanted to know. But, well, the coroner didn’t really hold back. He was blunt, told it to him straight: she had four axe wounds, all on her back, or the back of her neck. The running theory about what happened to her was that, due to wear she was hit on the spine, she was basically paralyzed, but even worse, she basically couldn’t fucking breathe. But- But of course it couldn’t just end there. She also got hit in the fucking neck. So, long story short, while they can’t tell what exactly happened, they think she either died because the fucker effectively choked her to death, or because she drowned in her own blood.

[JEREMY now starts crying.]

JEREMY: Ma didn’t even get to find out what happened to her baby. She wasn’t able to handle it after a year. She wanted to go see her baby, that’s what she said in the note. [angry tone] As far as I’m concerned, that fuck took my mom and my baby sister from me.

[The INTERVIEWER tries to comfort JEREMY, and they sit in relative silence for several minutes. JEREMY eventually wipes his tears away and appears to have calmed down.]

JEREMY: I’m…I’m fine now. Sorry ‘bout that, you can continue-

INTERVIEWER: You don’t have to apologize for a thing, Mr. Fitzgerald. It’s okay to cry about something so heavy. But either way…one last question: Do you believe in ghosts?

JEREMY: Well…long story short, yeah. I never really saw a “ghost-ghost,” but I know for a fact that I’ve interacted with some.

JEREMY: So, you remember how I worked at the ‘87 Location? Well, uh, I worked there the final week it was open, but you get the idea. Never liked my…employer, we’ll say. Gonna be blunt, I think Mike’s dad did it, but we’ll leave it there. Still don’t like how he tried to act buddy-buddy with me knowing that I suspected him, but whatever, [under his breath] fucking pendejo.

JEREMY: I worked the nightshift, because my sleep schedule was fucked up back then, and uh…well, those animatronics didn’t act normal, I’ll say that. Especially not the originals. Y’know, animatronics that definitely weren’t supposed to be moving. [pause] But…the one that fucked me up the most was Freddy Fazbear himself.

JEREMY: Every time he’d come into the office, I’d put that mask on and pray I did it quick enough. He’d always lean in towards the end and just…boop the nose on the mask and laugh at me. Then he’d just…head out.

JEREMY: I dunno, just….it feels like something Gabi would do.

INTERVIEWER: Oh, that’s interesting. One of the shortest answers we’ve gotten so far.

JEREMY: Eh, most of my experiences were just “animatronic is moving when it shouldn’t be” and, y’know, that, so…short, sweet, and to the point it is.

INTERVIEWER: And that’s perfectly fine, man. Is there anything else you’d like to say before we end the interview?

JEREMY: Just…a message to Mr. Afton.

[JEREMY takes a deep breath.]

JEREMY: Hello, sir! I AM SLEEPING WITH YOUR SON-

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* While most in Hurricane know the man as ‘Michael Afton,’ he is currently, legally, anyway, Michael Douglas after being in the custody of his aunt, Maya Douglas.

** The interviewer’s odd, awkward tone in this question is due to rumors floating around town about Ms. Schmidt. For her sake, we will not mention those rumors here.