hauntedpizzeria
Harmony Hare
72
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.
hauntedpizzeria
