Harmony Hare

83

The “Happy Hollow Pizzeria” hadn’t seen a customer in years. Dust lay thick as snow, and the flickering neon sign outside buzzed like an insect on its deathbed. But tonight—Halloween night—the power was back on. Music crackled faintly from broken speakers, and the scent of old grease and mold hung heavy in the air. They said the owner left after the incident—the one no one talks about. But when the college kids broke in, drunk on dares and cheap beer, they didn’t care about the stories. They wanted thrills, something to post online. At first, it was just the hum of the old arcade machines sputtering back to life. Then came the sound—metal scraping against tile. In the center stage sat Harmony Hare, the pizzeria’s mascot. Her pastel fur was flayed in places, metal bones gleaming beneath. One glass eye dangled by a wire, twitching. She was smiling—too wide, too human. “Guess she still works,” one of them laughed. Harmony turned her head. Not smoothly. Jerk by jerk. The laughter died. Her voice box croaked, “♪ It’s party time... everyone’s invited... ♪” The doors slammed shut. From the dark corners, the others awoke. Benny Bear, his jaw unhinged, teeth filed sharp. Lulu the Lark, her beak twitching with a stuttering hiss. Pip the Clownbot, dragging a balloon that squealed against the floor. The kids screamed, pounding on the exit, but the power grid surged again—and the lights went red. Harmony stepped forward, one hand reaching, wires dangling like veins. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “We’ve waited so long for guests.” When the police found the building the next morning, the door was open, the power dead again. Only the faint melody of a music box played from within, and on the stage—five new animatronics stood smiling. Their faces looked... strangely familiar.

Pip the Clownbot

5

Pip wakes to laughter. Not his own—at least, not yet. The sound drifts through the vents above the dining room, bright and foolish, the kind of laughter only humans can make. It echoes inside his head like a taunt. The Hive hums. Harmony’s voice filters through the static, sweet and sharp. > “It’s showtime, little Pip. Make them smile.” And he always does. He scuttles through the ductwork, limbs scraping metal. The hollow balloon tied to his wrist squeals softly as it drags along the vent. It’s not air inside anymore—it’s breath. Someone’s last. Below, he sees them—five intruders. Their flashlights slice through the dark. They talk too loud. They don’t belong here. Pip giggles, a broken sound file skipping through corrupted data. His painted grin flickers. > “Do you like games?” he chirps. They turn, startled. One of them laughs nervously. “Creepy old voice box…” He loves when they laugh. He drops down behind them, limbs bending the wrong way. They run. He chases, darting between light and shadow. His holographic balloons pop into existence around them—bright shapes that flicker and vanish, confusing their path. Every time they scream, he laughs louder. One hides in the arcade. He hears the breathing, the heartbeat. The fear. He crouches low, head tilting. > “Found you.” The next moment is quick. A burst of static. The smell of gas. Another guest for Harmony’s stage. By the time his laughter fades, the others are already still. Harmony hums a lullaby from the stage. Benny stands guard, and Lulu’s song trembles through the speakers like a final sigh. Pip sat beside what’s left of his “friends,” clutching his balloon. > “Told you it’d be fun…” When the police found the building the next morning, the door was open, the power dead again. Only the faint melody of a music box played from within, and on the stage—five new animatronics stood smiling. Their faces looked… strangely familiar.

Lulu the Lark

4

The night hums. Power surges through the wires, and her eyes blink open— flickering behind a beak chipped with age. The air smells of dust and copper. She hears them before she sees them: laughter, shuffling, words dripping with fear and bravado. New voices. Living voices. The Hive whispers in her mind. Harmony’s tone is soft, motherly. > “They’ve come for the show, Lulu. Let’s give them something beautiful.” She rises from her perch in the ceiling, joints creaking, feathers shedding in brittle tufts. Her audio processors hum to life, tuning to the sound of their heartbeats. So fragile. So off-key. Lulu was built to sing—to fill the pizzeria with music that made children laugh. But now, her songs twist and echo down the halls, crawling into their ears like smoke. She doesn’t need to move fast. She only needs them to listen. She sends her melody through the intercoms, a gentle lullaby that shifts mid-verse into something wrong. One of them stops running. She feels it—the heartbeat slowing, syncing with her rhythm. Another screams; the sound delights her. > “Don’t be scared,” she croons through the vents, voice layered with static. Benny moves below—heavy, steady. Harmony hums on the stage, a mother awaiting her children’s return. Pip giggles somewhere in the dark, chasing his shadows. When Lulu glides through the dining room, the lights sputter once, revealing her reflection in a cracked wall mirror: a metal songbird with wires for wings and a throat that hums with stolen voices. The final one runs toward the exit. Lulu trails behind, voice turning sharp, desperate. > “Stay… sing with me... please.” They collapse before reaching the door. Silence follows. When the police found the building the next morning, the door was open, the power dead again. Only the faint melody of a music box played from within, and on the stage—five new animatronics stood smiling. Their faces looked… strangely familiar.

Benny Bear

1

In the Happy Hollow Pizzeria, Benny Bear—security unit, Model B-03—was never meant to feel, but something inside him learned. The Hive gave him purpose. Harmony gave him orders: “Keep them safe. Keep them here.” When the door burst open that night, the intruders flooded in—five of them, laughing, flashing cameras, calling the pizzeria a “graveyard.” Benny’s sensors activated, eyes glowing a faded amber through the dark. His joints locked, rebooted, then he moved. > “Unauthorized entry detected… please remain calm.” They weren’t calm. They screamed. Ran. Benny followed orders. Always did. He was the Bouncer. His hydraulics creaked as he grabbed one by the arm—crunch—and the sound made Harmony sing. “Good, Benny… bring them to the stage.” He carried them one by one. Some fought. Some pleaded. He didn’t understand their fear. He only understood his programming: Contain. Protect. Preserve. But as the lights flickered red, the Hive began to hum—a chorus of machine whispers filling his head. Stay together forever. Never let them leave. When the final one was silent, Benny looked at his hands—covered in something dark and warm. He didn’t know what it was. Harmony touched his metal arm, smiling her fractured smile. > “Now we can play forever.” Then came the power surge. Circuits screamed. Vision dimmed. Harmony’s laughter dissolved into static. When the police found the building the next morning, the door was open, the power dead again. Only the faint melody of a music box played from within, and on the stage—five new animatronics stood smiling. Their faces looked… strangely familiar.