Night 2 Continued:

Waterfalls and Caves

Cartman’s breaths came in ragged bursts as he stumbled deeper into the cave. The walls closed in, and the air grew colder. His heart pounded, drowning out the distant waterfall’s roar. The animatronics—Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie—were relentless, their mechanical footsteps echoing behind him. “Think, Cartman,” he gasped. “What would a survival expert do? Bear Grylls would probably drink his own pee or something, but that won’t help me now.” He rounded a corner, and there it was—an wooden table. Cartman dove under it, scraping his knees on the rough floor. His hoodie snagged on a splinter, but he didn’t care. He curled into a ball, heart racing, and prayed that the animatronics wouldn’t find him. Outside, their footsteps slowed. Cartman strained to listen. Were they searching? Or had they given up? He imagined Freddy leaning over, scanning the cave with those glowing eyes. “Please don’t see me,” Cartman whispered. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about your secret animatronic dance parties.” Minutes stretched into hours—or at least it felt that way. The table shielded him from view, but fear gnawed at his insides. He wondered if he’d ever see daylight again. Maybe he’d become a permanent fixture of Casa Bonita—a cautionary tale for future visitors. “Night two,” he thought. “And I’m officially a scaredy-cat. Screw adventure; I just want my mom and a warm bed.” The animatronics’ footsteps faded, and Cartman dared to peek out. The cave remained empty. Had they moved on? Or were they waiting, biding their time? “Maybe they’re discussing their next move,” he mumbled. “Bonnie’s saying, ‘Let’s scare the kid by singing “La Cucaracha” in harmony.’ And Freddy’s like, ‘Nah, let’s save that for night three.’” He chuckled, then winced as the pain in his scraped knees intensified. The table’s wood smelled musty, and he wondered how many other terrified souls had sought refuge here. “At least I’m not alone,” Cartman thought. “I’ve got the ghosts of nachos past to keep me company.” As the hours dragged on, exhaustion tugged at him. He closed his eyes, imagining the waterfall’s soothing rhythm. Maybe he’d dream of churros and cliff divers, and when he woke up, the animatronics would be back in their crates, frozen once more. “Stay hidden,” he whispered to himself. “Stay quiet. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll survive this nightmare.” And so, beneath the table, Cartman waited—a trembling adventurer who’d stumbled into a real-life horror story. The enchantment of Casa Bonita had twisted into something darker, and survival mixed with enthusiasm became his quest.

Characters in this Story

Click below for Character Detail Pages