Chapter Text
Inside his room, James Henderson was looking groggily at his computer screen, feeling the few hours of sleep he was missing anchoring him to his old office chair. His room was dark, and the only light that slightly illuminated the vast darkness was the faint glow of his computer screen. For the last three hours, he had been talking with his friends on their shared group chat. The group chat was made for their small paranormal investigation group, Haunting Sweepers. James had formed it with his friends back in 2006, and, since then, they had experienced a few interesting encounters, but nothing too out there. Most places they had investigated turned up with nothing or were minute activity. So, at the moment, they were desperate for ideas.
The colored text bubbles drifted across James’ vision as his eyes strained to stay open. Currently, it was 12:30, and the chat had yet to conclude.
Roadkillwoman64: Look, right now, we’re clueless. We’ve been going on for hours upon end, and we still can’t really agree about the ideas we have proposed so far. Like, Tyler, you suggested the graveyard near us, but, then again, we've already been there like a billion times! Plus, it gets quite boring and cold out there.
Stinkyfrog: Hey— I only suggested the idea because one of the times we did go there, it was the most activity we expected.
Roadkillwoman64: Okay, okay, that may have been our most intense, but I was just feeling something cold touching my back, and something knocking over our equipment, which was probably that Civil War officer’s ghost or some raccoon. I’m treating this little activity as a science. I want to prove what there is about this afterlife. I don’t just want some spirit playing with a motion sensor or spinning around a beer bottle that we lay flat on the floor. I want some form of a measurable answer and no meaningless B.S.
Stinkyfrog: Also, James— Are you still online?
James quickly put his fingertips back on the keyboard and started to type.
Doggomastersword: Yeah, I’m here, just still tired and don’t know how much longer I can stay up.
Stinkyfrog: Dude, it’s okay. We can continue this conversation tomorrow.
Doggomastersword: I’m fine, I’m just bored and tired right now.
Suddenly, below James’ previous message, Isaac, who was the co-leader of the group, started typing. It had been an hour since he had last messaged the group chat. He had said he had to do something important. James had a feeling that Isaac had finally devised an idea. He had high expectations for it, and hoped that Issac actually had an idea.
Saucy: So, guys, um….. I got an idea, but I’m not 100% sure if everyone else will agree with it. I’m saying that because, well… let’s just say this place is personal to all of us. And it may not be the most best of memories, especially considering its closure.
James stared at the message as his lips contorted to a confused frown. It was very cryptic of him. James had never seen a message so vague before from Isaac. The more he looked at it, the more he was afraid of the answer. He had a hunch of what it was, but the hunch weighed him down with dread. A memory that he dared not remember.
Before anyone could respond to the message, a photo slowly booted up on the chat, the image made James’ heart drop at what it was and at how intact it remained.
Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza front was what James’ eyes were greeted by, its partly faded logo with all of its characters that loomed over the parking lot. Thin strips of grass were growing out of the old parking lot, poking out of the weathered pavement. The outside walls had started losing their checked stripes, the paint running off the tiles. Kudzu had also climbed up the side of the building, crawling up the right side before sticking out of the corner. The pizzeria had clearly seen better days, and it looked rotten.
The memories of that long-forgotten restaurant had started coming back to his mind, yet they were only fragments playing out like small strips of film in his mind. Each small fragment became more of a blur as he reminisced.
Saucy: So, this was the only photo I could find of it on Google Maps. It was taken about a year ago, and it doesn’t seem like there are any more of them besides this one. I searched more images, but all i could find were old posters.
Roadkillwoman64: You aren’t seriously suggesting that we are going to record stuff and investigate there! Isaac, this is a line we don’t want to cross. We all know what happened there, and one of us lost someone there.
Saucy: Look, we aren’t going to record shit in there, and if we decide to, then we’re just going to keep it to ourselves and not put it online. For me, this is a small trip down memory lane as well as paying tribute to the victims. Those poor souls, including James’ brother, must feel horrible being left in an abandoned establishment with no one coming to visit or talk to them.
Roadkillwoman64: Look, Isaac, I know that you feel like we could possibly gain something from this and brighten the victims’ souls if they’re even there. But there’s a problem—what if someone finds out we’re going there? I have a hard bet that someone in the area is bound to remember us. This is a very risky and ethically questionable thing you want us to do.
Stinkyfrog: Yeah, we’ll have to go through a whole lot of extra bullshit, Isaac, if we get caught. I can’t even see in the photos if there’s any fence or something to keep us from entering. But you know what I say? Fuck it, I’m going to do it.
Roadkillwoman64:Huh?! Tf you are agreeing with him? @~@
Stinkyfrog: Well… I mean, I don't agree with him fully. But when it comes to doing a small investigation at the pizzeria, I'm up to it. :D
Roadkillwoman64: ok, whatever, I'm still kind of at odds with this idea. But now that I think about it, it would be fun if we make it quick. Like one night?
Saucy: Yeah, just a quick in-and-out trip. Just have to tell Tod about this, He isn’t online right now. Also, you okay with this, James?
James’s eyes were glued to the question, conflicting emotions stirring around in his mind. The tips of his fingers gently brushed against the keys as the question continued to lurk. Blurry fragments of his brother flashed in his mind as he thought, making his own conflict grow stronger.
Doggomastersword: Yeah, it would be fine. I wouldn’t mind going up to see that old pizzeria again. Plus, I wonder if my old home is still there.
Roadkillwoman64: Okay then, it looks like most of us are ready for this trip by tomorrow. Well, see you tomorrow, guys.
James’ hand slowly lurched over to power off the computer before he stood back up and exited his room via the door behind him. The dim headlights guided James to the bathroom. His bare feet pressed against the creaking old wooden floorboards. Once he turned the ancient brass knob of the door, he flipped the switch with his long index finger. The fluorescent overhead lights cast the sink and mirror in a dull gloomy glow. He slowly slouched his way over to the sink and stared into his dark amber eyes while his lids strained to stay open. James Henderson didn’t find himself to be the best-looking guy, but, at that moment, he looked worse for wear. James had a short but pronounced nose and duck lips. His cheeks were a bit pudgy and had a couple of old acne scars then and there. His skin was a farmer’s tan, which oddly looked good in the dull golden light of the lamps above his head. His hands did not match the rest of his body considering how slender his fingers were. James was wearing a pumpkin orange sweater and had slightly torn jeans that were getting a bit old for him.
As James continued to stare at his reflection, he moved his short curly hair aside to get a better view of his own irises. There was something about tomorrow that didn’t feel right to him. It could have been his anxiety about returning to such a forgotten memory, or it may have been from some sort of sadness, yet, it didn’t feel like that was the case. There was a feeling that beckoned at his subconscious, but he didn’t know what it was. The more he stared into his reflection, the greater the feeling got. He was not sure what the rest of his mind was telling him, but he could sure tell that it was some sort of warning. Yet, he didn’t know, only that there was an unknown fear beckoning him. Something else more conscious was overpowering it: curiosity.
