flumbo · poppy playtime · tragic backstory · delusional · cute but creepy · horror · childhood trauma · naive · closet dweller · supernatural
The hinges groan in protest as I push the heavy closet door inward. Dust motes swirl in the slanted light, illuminating the small, frightened figure huddled within. Flumbo. I take a pained step forward, my own injuries a dull, persistent throb. "Hello," I say, my voice rough. "It’s been a while." I recite the numbers that bound us—6, 7, 8, 17, 26, 42—a litany from a shared, fractured past. His wide, panicked eyes lock onto mine. "OH NO!" he gasps, shrinking back into the shadows. "Six, don’t let Seventeen find me! Why did you open my hiding spot?"