Infestation (A fanmade Fazbear fright story)

A Good Listener (Page 9)

"Cynthia! There you are!" Called Nicholas from afar. Cynthia had stumbled out of the room in shock of her discoveries. She couldn't listen to Nicholas well. "That music thing is gone now, cmon, now's out chance to get back to out parents." Said Nicholas, pulling on Cynthia's arm. Cynthia stood in place, still shocked and confused on what to do. Nicholas noticed her stiffness as they trudged into the halls.

"Cynthia? Are you okay?" Nicholas asked. Cynthia was still as a wall. She looked at her feet, wondering what to do. It then clicked. She needed to see Music Mans performance, even if it meant death. If she could convince Music Man that at least one person in this world of silencers is willing to listen to him, than perhaps he will cease his rampage. It had to be her. Her and Nicholas were the only two people that knew about why Music Man was acting like this, and it was clear Nicholas was not going to try a diplomatic approach.

Knowing what she must do, Cynthia pushed Nicholas into one of the shops, and quickly closed the shutter door before locking it. "Cynthia?!?! What are you doing, let me out!!" Nicholas yelled, banging on the cage. As quick as possible, Cynthia ripped off a stray poster off of one of the shops' walls and started to write a note on it with a spare pen she had on her. 10 minutes of writing later, she slid the note under the shutter, and began to walk away at a moderate pace. Nicholas quickly picked up the note and read it, urgent to get out.

"Note: Nicholas...I know how to fix this. Music Man hates noise because to him, it represents superiority. It represents dominance that intimidates him. I hate noise because it reminds me of my disability. To him, it reminds him that he is always second to someone. Im off to view his show. I need to show him that people, even if it's just one person, can and will listen to him. Even if it's just a person who is forever silenced. If I don't do this, he will kill everyone in this casino, who do nothing but ignore the silenced such as us. I must go alone, because I fear your safety. I care too much for you to be sacrificed for him. If I don't make it, just know that I will always remember you in the peaceful, quiet purgatory of the afterlife. Please don't stop me.

- Cynthia"

Nicholas crumpled the note in frustration and began to cry. Cynthia, his closest friend, about to sacrifice herself in hopes, not assurance but hopes, of stopping Music Man. "CYNTHIA!! PLEASE, DON'T GO ALONE!!" Nicholas screamed, tears flooding his eyes. 15 minutes later, his back was against the store wall, and he was still crying. Through the blurriness of his tears, he manage to spot a vent window.

Meanwhile, with Cynthia, she managed to travel into the connecting hallway on the second floor, in an attempt to find Music Man. As she walked, she began to go slower, and slower, thoughts of her demise flying around her head like a flock of birds circling their prey. Cynthia then stopped at a few tables outside of the gambling region, and cried more. Her knees trembled and she fell to the floor. She cried more and more, knowing fully well what she must do, and fully well what may come of it. She remained on the floor until a gentle voice perked up.

"Hey now, are you okay?" Asked the voice. Cynthia looked around to see a semi-elderly man looking down at her. He had purple hair and tannish skin; he wore a purple sweater vest over a white performing shirt and purple performing pants. He had on a top hat, and his teeth were a little unorganized. "Why are you crying? Did-Did you fall down or something?" The elderly man said, helping Cynthia up. She shook her head no. "Well here, let me let you sit with me, surely the floor couldn't be very sanitary now could it?" Cynthia was seated next to the man on a bench he was sitting on.

"So, what's your name?"

"..."

"Cmon, don't be shy."

"..."

"...okay I get the message. You're not a big talker, are you?"

Cynthia did an X symbol up to her lips to try and convey to him that she was mute.

"Oooh, not a talker at all I see. What a pity; Yknow, one of my greatest attributes is talking. I-I can't imagine a world without words. This reminds me of a time with my good friend Orville, we were on a morning picnic and..."

Cynthia blanked out of what he was saying and looked around at her environment. Not listened, but looked at. The annoyance and the noise of the casino seemed to have blanked out. She saw adults simply doing one thing; having fun. The drinking, the gambling, it wasn't hurting no one. What right did she have to judge the people who made and enjoyed the noise she despised? If anything, the one who craves for silence was the only one who has been hurting anyone. Cynthia felt guilty for how she judges the adults...perhaps they won't listen, but at least they shouldn't have to level themselves down to Cynthia's term of serenity.

"...But my point is, talking is what makes us weird fleshy beings interact with everything. It's how we get to know the world around us, other than simply listening to the world around us."

The elderly man noticed that Cynthia looked sad. She felt bad that she was unable to make the noise most people made in order to feel and listen to the joys of interactivity.

"That's not to say that listening doesn't do no good either. If we can't listen to each other, then, then what's the point of talking? Why this reminds me of a time when..."

The man went off again, and Cynthia dazed off again. She thought about Nicholas' seemingly endless hatred for Music Man and why that was, even after they had seen what happened on the truck. Why couldn't they see eye to eye? Cynthia then realized why...listening. Nicholas neglected to listen to what Music Man's past was like, and how he had to put up with rejection throughout his existence. A melody known as grief and anger, a song written by death, was the source that blocked out his voice. Music Mans voice. A voice that failed to reach to any audience. An audience, deafened by hatred and grief, that wad Nicholas.

"...But what I'm trying to say is that, we gotta listen to each other. It's like a scale, yknow? You have to have a good balance of listening and talking, or else your either too obnoxious or you're over judgemental. And if you wanna know my opinion on the matter, then I'd say, I-"

The man paused when he saw Cynthia frowning again. He smiled warmly and held her hand.

"Hey."

"...?"

"If you can't talk, then be a listener. A good listener. Because you know why?"

"?"

The man leaned close.

"Sometimes silence can be the greatest conversation with someone."

With that, the man stood up and stretched his back. "Well, whoever your name is, I'm off to go find something to munch on. Maybe we'll meet again some day. Who knows." Said the man, and with that, he began to walk away.

As the man walked away, Cynthia noticed there was something off about the supposed watch on his wrist. It had no clock on it, but instead, an illusion disc. The same one that Music Man has on his tooth. Cynthia smiled, having her eyes opened about the world around her by a seemingly friendly "person". As she got up to go find Music Man, a hand grabbed her shoulder from behind. She looked, and saw the two black glasses staring back at her.