Poppy Playtime: Knight Light

Poppy Playtime: Knight Light Prologue

Poppy Playtime: Knight Light Prologue

Disclaimer: Poppy Playtime and it's characters are owned by Mob Entertainment. Most OCs are own by me. This story is an OC fanfiction of the game Poppy Playtime in an alternate timeline and not an official part of Poppy Playtime. It is not intended for commercial use or profit.

"Every night, it's the same nightmare. I'm four years old, running down the blood-stained halls of Playtime Co., the acrid stench of death filling my nostrils as I flee. Agonized screams echo all around, piercing my ears. I can hear that... that _thing_... rapidly approaching, its heavy footsteps pounding the floor as it chases me down. I dare a glance behind and see the horrific face of a large, pale cat-like creature grinning at me, its pale glowing eyes piercing through the noxious red smoke it exhaled."

Dante Allen paused, his voice trembling as he recounted the vivid details of his recurring nightmare. At 14 years old, he sat on the couch in the school counselor's office, his lean frame tense with lingering fear. With short, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses, Dante had the appearance of a typical teenager, but the haunted look in his eyes betrayed a deeper trauma.

"I slipped on the blood-slicked floor and watched in horror as the giant cat-creature pounced on me. Then I wake up, my heart racing," Dante said, turning his gaze to the blonde, middle-aged woman sitting across from him.

The counselor, Mrs. Jones, nodded sympathetically, her brow furrowed with concern. "Dante, I can only imagine how terrifying those dreams must be. The creature you describe sounds like CatNap, one of the Playtime Co. toys that was recalled due to children having similar nightmares." She paused, her expression grave. "But I want you to know that you're safe here. Can you tell me more about your connection to Playtime Co.?"

Dante shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tracing the shield emblem on his black t-shirt. "When I was four years old, my mother took me to the Playtime Co. factory for a tour. My father had already been killed in action before I was born, and after that, my mother..." His voice trailed off, the memories clearly still painful.

Mrs. Jones nodded, her expression understanding. "I see. Dante, what you experienced was a profound tragedy. I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you, especially at such a young age." She leaned forward, her gaze compassionate. "But I want you to know that you're not alone. I'm here to listen and support you, whenever you feel ready to share more."

Dante remained silent for a moment, his eyes downcast. "I... I don't remember much about what happened that day at Playtime Co. It's all a blur. I'd rather not dwell on the past, if that's alright."

Mrs. Jones nodded understandingly. "Of course, Dante. We'll take this at your pace. The important thing is that you're safe now, and I'm here to help you work through this trauma, in whatever way you need."

"Thanks, Mrs. Jones," Dante replied as the bell rang. "Well... I guess I better get going to P.E.," he said and grabbed his bag as he prepared to head out. But then he felt Mrs. Jones's hand rest on his shoulder.

"Dante, before you go, I want you to know that you can always come talk to me, about anything," Mrs. Jones said, her voice gentle but firm. "I know the memories of that day at Playtime Co. are painful, but I'm here to support you, no matter what."

Dante paused, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to face the counselor. "I appreciate that, Mrs. Jones. It's just... sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one who remembers what happened there. Like I'm trapped in this nightmare, and no one else can understand."

Mrs. Jones nodded sympathetically. "I know it must feel that way, Dante. But I want you to know that you're not alone. There are people who can help you work through this, to find a way to move forward."