Missing Children-plaza -

I turn my head slowly. Through the headset, I see a plastic pink figure crawling through the vent. It’s a five-foot-tall animatronic mother, her smile bolted into place, her eyes made of cracked camera lenses. She drags a velvet bag behind her—one that squirms.

“Play again. Play again. Play again.” Missing Children-PLAZA

“Oh, hello,” she says in a warm, glitching voice. “I didn’t see you on the sign-in sheet. Are you lost, sweetie?” I turn my head slowly

They aren’t dead. They’re stored . Their bodies are translucent, flickering between flesh and light. Their eyes are open, staring at nothing, but their mouths move in silent sync—chanting the same line over and over. her smile bolted into place