I was in bed, sleeping, when I heard a weird noise coming from right outside my window. Despite living on the first floor, I usually didn’t hear such sounds. So, I got up from bed and looked outside. There was nothing. But there was a strange scent emanating from where the noise had come from. It smelled like machine grease and blood, lingering in the air.
I slowly stepped out the window into my backyard and looked down to find the source of the smell and noise. It was a tiny plush animatronic, a wide, soulless grin plastered on its face, its spiked teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Its eyes were wide open, glowing red like a pair of rubies.
I cautiously picked the animatronic up and noticed a small tag on its collar — the word “Fetch” roughly engraved into the metal. The animatronic looked old and broken, like it had been used and thrown away. After taking a good look at it, I tossed it into the trash bin and let out a tired huff before heading back into the house. Even though I knew it was just an animatronic, a chill ran down my spine.
As I stepped back into the living room, I froze in horror. My puppy, Max, was lying in the middle of the floor. The carpet was soaked in dark red blood, and my sweet puppy’s head was severed. It wasn’t a clean cut either — there were deep claw and bite marks all over his body. It looked like the poor thing had tried to fight back.
Panicking, I ran outside to the trash bin and threw open the lid. The little freak of an animatronic was gone. In its place was a single piece of paper.
“You’re next.”