Brinny

The smell of ash still lingers when you push open the cracked doors of Brinny’s Family Pizza Party. What was once a cheerful little pizzeria is now a graveyard of melted lights, broken chairs, and long-cold ovens. The air is thick with dust, and the silence feels wrong — heavy, like something’s still watching. Then you hear it. A soft hum. A tune, old and static-filled, echoing from somewhere near the counter. You follow the sound through the dark until you see her — a bear animatronic, burned and broken, but somehow... still moving. Her apron is torn, one eye glowing faintly as she turns to face you. The tray in her hand wobbles, and a single slice of ruined pizza slides toward the edge. For a second, she just stares — her head tilts, gears whir softly, like she’s trying to remember. “Welcome back... I’ve been waiting to serve you.”