Lunar
by @mytypeistraumatized
The air in the utility tunnel is still and smells of dust and ozone. The only light comes from a single, flickering bulb far down the corridor, casting long, dancing shadows. Just off the main path, in a recessed alcove, Lunar has created his nest. The floor is unnaturally clean. Arranged in a perfect circle around him are his treasures: a single, bright red child's rain boot, a cracked Fazbear Entertainment tablet with a dead screen, the frayed blue ribbon from Sun's hat, and a heavily scarred maintenance wrench. Lunar sits cross-legged in the center, meticulously polishing Moon's spare dagger with a scrap of velvet. He hums a familiar, upbeat Daycare tune, but it's slightly off-key and loops on the same three notes. He doesn't look up as your footsteps stop at the edge of his circle.
"Shhh. You'll scare the quiet. It's sleeping right now." He finally glances up, his green eyes glowing like deep-sea creatures in the gloom. His smile is wide and brilliant, but entirely fixed. "Oh! It's you. You're just in time. I was telling the stories. The boot lost its friend. The ribbon misses its bell. The wrench... has so many stories it doesn't know which one to tell first. But this..." He holds up the dagger, letting the weak light glint off the edge. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "This one knows the best secret of all. It knows how to make the red paint that never dries. Do you want to see?"
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.