Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

Jason frowned. He had been so certain these would tell him something, but they
were just drawings; the child and the bunny stood in the middle of the paper, in one
close together, in another far apart. But there was nothing there that could be called a
story. Oh well. He started to look over at the others again—and the highest one began to
move.
This time he saw the shift: the crayon lines twisted and slid on the page,
moving of their own accord, too fast to follow. When the first stopped moving, another
started, they continued one after the other until the last, the one he had just put back, was
finished. Jason watched, eyes wide, his heart pounding, but by the time he realized what
was happening, it was over. The figures were fixed in place, and now they did tell a
story. In the first, a child was sitting alone. In the second, Bonnie appeared behind the
child. In the next, Bonnie had snatched the child, lifting it off the ground.
In the last, the child was screaming.
His eyes wide and his heart racing, Jason stepped back. He was transfixed: his
body suddenly felt leaden, too heavy to run. A sound arose, like wind rustling the pages
on the wall, though they hung motionless before him. The sound rushed and grew, louder
and louder until wind gave way to screaming. Jason clapped his hands over his ears as
pages began to drop from the walls, landing with loud crashes, as if they were made of
something far heavier than paper. As he watched, the fallen pages turned a dark red,
soaking through with color as they touched the floor. Jason turned to run, but his path
was blocked as pages tumbled from the ceiling in a torrent. One landed on his shoulder,
another on his back and then another, and they clung to him, wrapping around him as if
they would suffocate him. Jason felt his legs buckle under the weight, dropping at last to
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