Work Text:
They say there are five stages of grief.
A child in a chicken mask sits at the feet of the chicken who has a likeness to the child’s mask. She wears a once pretty pink dress, now stained with dark blood. Her arms end at the ends of her arms, her hands gone. As if they’d been cut off. Behind the mask, the remains of a jaw sits against the child’s neck.
She doesn’t remember her name anymore. An always crying child. Sometimes, workers claim that they can hear her weeping in despair.
Denial.
A boy, not much older than the first child, stands in an area covered by curtains. He holds a yellow rabbit plush, torn between his fingers and teeth. Wearing a fox mask, similar to the Animatronic of the particular shut down mascot, only one eye gleams. The other a gaping hole. One hand and foot intact, the other missing. Like the girl, his clothes are stained with blood.
He also doesn’t remember his name. The workers claim they can hear his shouts of rage.
Anger.
A girl sits by a bear. She, too, dons a mask similar to the Animatronic beside her. The only wound that is seen is the awkward angle on her neck- and the discoloured bruises that accompany it.
What is her name? She doesn’t know. The workers sometimes hear her singing to soothe herself.
Bargaining.
A boy lays in the lap of an Animatronic rabbit. Like the rest, he too wears a mask. This time a purple rabbit mask. The only wounds he displays is a caved in skull- even if the mask wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have any facial features- and a skeleton of an arm… as if the flesh had been melted right off.
The workers most certainly hear him wailing at night. He has no name to claim his own.
Depression.
A music box sounds distinctively from a large blue and purple gift box. It’s a sad melody, yet to those who know it, can put a name to it. Grandfather’s Clock. It changes to a different tune every so often. Pop-Goes-The-Weasel.
The Animatronic within is the ‘caretaker’ of the others. The ‘bringer of life’. The ‘therapist’.
Her name is Charlotte. She remembers her name well.
The workers are wary of her.
Acceptance.
A lone Animatronic sits in the freezer- the one unused space of the kitchen. No one dares move this mysterious being. It twitches every so often. None ever hear a peep from it. They’re certain it’s also possessed.
“Well…” A very young child, with scars and wounds littered all over her body stands above a man. Her form slowly pixelates, drifting apart, before snapping back into place. She wears a golden bear mask that leers down at the man cowering before her. She holds a remote control.
“I think I’d like to add one more…”
She presses a button, and around them, the space fades into a cluttered office.
“Revenge.”