Poppy Playtime Chapter | 1

The Orientation

Your flashlight clicked on, a nervous heartbeat of white in the dark. The front desk was a graveyard of forgotten things: a coffee mug with a cartoon cat’s face, a name tag reading “Janice,” and a single, deflated balloon that whispered across the tile as you passed. The orientation booklet they’d given you—back then, when you were just another hopeful employee—lay in a puddle of water. You didn’t pick it up. You already knew the rules. Poppy Playtime Chapter 1

You crawled until your knees bled. Until the sounds of tearing metal faded to a whisper. You fell out into the lobby, gasping, alone. The Orientation Your flashlight clicked on, a nervous

The real shift had just begun.

Not a machine. Not a settling pipe. A slow, deliberate drag of something heavy and soft against drywall. You spun. The hallway behind you was empty. But the poster—Huggy’s poster—was gone. In its place was a dark archway leading to the warehouse. You didn’t pick it up

Scrape.

You looked at the front doors. Locked. Of course they were.