Polly’s Party For Two (The Lost 1995 Tape)[]
Written by SapphireGem2002[]
The Tape of Polly's party for two
[Content warning: This story contains disturbing imagery.]
This is my first pasta so don't knock on it but if you do want to criticize it I don't mind[]
The Beginning[]
I always thought nostalgia was harmless. Something soft. Warm. Comforting. A little portal back to childhood, to simpler times. But sometimes, nostalgia opens doors you should’ve left shut.
My name’s Emmanuel—online, most people know me as SapphireGem2002. I’m 22 years old, and if you know anything about me, it’s that I’m obsessed with retro animatronic media. Particularly with an old birthday booth chain called Polly’s Party Booth. If you grew up on the East Coast in the ‘90s, you probably remember it. Or maybe you’ve tried to forget.
Polly was a Brown rabbit animatronic, always cheerful, always smiling. Her job? Hosting parties, leading sing-alongs, and teaching kids about kindness, friendship, and good manners. Alongside her were Haley Piglet, Rusty Lion, and the chaotic, pun-loving Lance Cheeseslice. It was like Chuck E. Cheese meets a Saturday morning cartoon.
For me, Polly was my childhood. I spent birthdays there. I collected the VHS tapes. I memorized the songs. I still own most of the merch, even if it’s stained or falling apart. But there was always something… off about Polly. Something people only whispered about in niche forums, old Reddit threads, and late-night Discord calls.
See… everyone knows about 1995. The year Aurora Nyx Blackwell, Polly’s creator and original voice actress, took a mysterious year-long hiatus. For that year only, a substitute voice actress—Samantha Linz—took over the voice of Polly. Samantha wasn’t bad at all; in fact, she sounded arguably more like Polly than Aurora herself. Sweet, airy, higher-pitched. Almost uncanny in how perfect it was.
Then, Samantha was never seen again. Literally. No interviews. No credits after 1995. Some say she quit the industry. Some say… other things.
I used to joke that 1995 Polly tapes always felt a little wrong. The vibes were different. Forced. Lonely. I never knew how literal that joke would become.
🩸 The Tape[]
It started like any collector’s story does—an eBay listing
It was labeled simply as
Polly’s Party For Two – TEST COPY – NOT FOR SALE[]
The thumbnail showed something strange. Unlike the usual black, white, or bright blue VHS shells that Polly tapes came in… this one was dark red. Like a dried-blood kind of red. And instead of the cheerful sticker labels, this one just had “Party For Two” scribbled on it with what looked like a dried marker. No artwork. No logos. Just… that.
It was only $8. I had to have it.
When it arrived, the first thing that hit me was the smell. Not moldy, but metallic. Old. Wrong. Like something that should’ve decomposed years ago but didn’t. I brushed it off—probably just the plastic degrading. Right?
I popped it into my old VHS player. Static. Tracking lines. A loud, high-pitched hum... then silence.
The tape started.
🎥 The Show Begins… Sort Of[]
The screen faded into the familiar set—balloons, streamers, bright yellow walls. The banner read
POLLY’S PARTY FOR TWO![]
But something was… off.
There were no kids. No laughter. No music. Just Polly, standing alone on the stage. She waved. Her servos groaned louder than usual. Almost like... she was tired.
Then Polly spoke.
Hi there, friend! I’m Polly, and this party… is just for us![]
It was Samantha’s voice. Sweet. Crisp. Perfect. Exactly like I remembered the 1995 tapes. A wave of nostalgia hit me... but not the comforting kind. It felt hollow. Artificial.
the tape rolled, Polly led typical routines. Counting games. A badly mixed version of The Sprinkle Song. She pretended to pour invisible tea, asking the viewer to “sip.” Everything seemed normal. But no background music ever played. And the camera… it never cut. It just… stayed on Polly. Static shots. No edits. Like she was staring right at me. Like it was just me and her.
💻 The First Sign of Wrong[]
Ten minutes in, something new happened.
A black text box suddenly popped up at the bottom of the screen. Plain white letters. It read
THAT’S NOT ME.[]
It lingered there for exactly five seconds… then vanished. Polly didn’t react. She kept smiling, waving, talking.
At first, I laughed nervously. Thought it was a weird production bug. A prank, maybe. But then it happened again. Randomly. Whenever Polly spoke.
THAT’S NOT ME.[]
NOT ME.[]
I’M NOT HER[]
text boxes appearing like closed captions from hell.
⏸️ You Can’t Pause This Party[]
I tried hitting pause to process this. I needed a second.
The moment I did—
FLASH.[]
Polly’s face filled the screen. But not the usual face—the eyelids were half-shut, mouth agape wider than its mechanics should allow, like someone screaming without sound.
dark, smoky background. No set. No colors. Just her face.
bottom in flickering red text
YOU CAN’T PAUSE THIS PARTY.[]
I ripped my finger off the button. The tape unpaused itself.
I wasn’t breathing right anymore. I should’ve stopped it. I should have. But I didn’t.
📼 When Aurora Returned[]
Twenty-five minutes in, the weirdest thing yet—Polly’s voice changed. Not a glitch. Not a sudden swap. It was gradual.
Samantha’s airy, cheerful voice drifted downward.
And it wasn’t a line swap—it was like Aurora was talking over Samantha, slowly drowning her out.
Polly walked closer to the camera, servo motors screeching louder than I’ve ever heard.
Then she said it.
It’s just us now... isn’t it... Celeste?[]
The air left my lungs. My spine felt like it shattered in my skin. My full name isn’t Celeste. That’s not me. I’m Emmanuel.
Except… when I looked down at my hands…
They weren’t my hands.
Smaller. Slimmer. Paler. My nails were longer. My wrists narrower. I ran to the mirror.
It wasn’t me staring back. It was... her. Celeste. The orphaned daughter of Aurora and Grayson.
I remembered reading about her. I remembered… her death. 2004.
She died in 2004.[]
🔚 The Final Words[]
On screen, Polly tilted her head. Her eyes sharpened. Not the normal LCD glare—real focus.
You always were the best part of me, Celeste...[]
The screen flickered. The background behind Polly turned pitch black. Only her face was lit.
We never really ended, did we...?[]
That broke me. I screamed, grabbed the nearest chair, and hurled it into the TV. The screen shattered in a burst of glass and static. Sparks flew.
The VHS player ejected the tape by itself.
But when it slid out…
It wasn’t the red tape anymore.
It was a normal, bright blue tape. Labeled
Polly’s Birthday Countdown – 1992[]
Perfect condition. No scratches. No marker. No blood-red plastic. Nothing.
🩸 Post-Script[]
I haven’t slept right since. I checked my hands. My face. A thousand times. It’s… me. I think. I hope. But sometimes… just sometimes… in the mirror, I catch a glimpse. Not of me. But of her.
And sometimes... late at night... I swear I can hear Polly’s voice whispering from the broken TV.