A tangled mass of yarn and ribbon sounds more
like what you’d find in the back room of a craft store or a forgotten closet than a
mysterious creature worthy of investigation. And yet that’s exactly what SCP-066 appeared
to be, or at least it did at first glance. But the SCP Foundation doesn’t contain and
study just anything, and there was - and still is - something incredibly strange just below
the surface of SCP-066, also known as “Eric’s Toy.” At first, Eric’s Toy seemed to be completely
harmless and even helpful, a knot of string that produced strange but harmless items and
effects. But, the Foundation soon discovered a dark
side to SCP-066. While it may be referred to as a toy, this
is no mere plaything. SCP-066 weighs only about one kilogram and
appears to be a braided bunch of yarn and ribbon. Though there is no apparent musical capability
within the strands of yarn and ribbon themselves, music can be produced by moving individual
strands one at a time. When it was first being studied, this SCP
was composed of multicolored strings and ribbons, but it has since undergone a transformation
and now presents an appearance somewhat different from its initial description. The strands of yarn and ribbon can be used
to play the notes of a diatonic scale - C-D-E-F-G-A-B - though the research has not been able to
determine just how SCP-066 produces music, or any sound at all. SCP-066 was thought to be completely benign
at first and was classified as Safe, but following an incident known as Incident 066-2, its classification
was adjusted to a subcategory of Euclid: Euclid-impetus. Euclid is a classification given to SCPs that
are more difficult to contain than those classified as “Safe.” Impetus, in Latin, means “attack” and
specifies that SCP-066 is not only Euclid class, but on the more aggressive side. While 066 is not always aggressive toward
humans, the events of Incident 066-2 proved that it is highly unpredictable, and should
not be provoked. Like many SCPs, it proved that underestimating
its capabilities can be a dangerous mistake. Before the incident, SCP-066 displayed only
charming, if unusual, behavior. Various researchers spent their time playing
random assortments of notes using its strings, curious about what would happen and determined
to record anything this unusual ball of string had to offer. They did not yet know that the creature was
capable of any hostility, and went about their work with a lighthearted, carefree spirit. After playing an improvised six-note melody
with the strands, a researcher was thrilled to find that SCP-066 was capable of shapeshifting. Its appearance changed to resemble a small
calico kitten for seventeen minutes. The kitten was incredibly friendly, rubbing
its head against the researcher’s gloved hand and purring loudly. Ironically enough, the kitten also spent time
playing with a piece of string. After the seventeen minutes were up, the kitten
transformed back into SCP-066’s original form. A few days later, another researcher played
a different melody on the strands, and was surprised to find that, when they stopped,
the music continued on its own. The sound of an acoustic guitar kicked in,
accompanied by vocals, with no visible source for either sound. The SCP then played a four-minute song with
lyrics warning against the use of sharp objects without the supervision of a parent, especially
scissors. After the song ended, the SCP was silent for
the rest of the day. The following week, a research assistant used
the strands of SCP-066 to play the opening notes of “Happy Birthday,” and a chocolate
cupcake with a lit birthday candle appeared from within the braided strings. Against the warnings of his peers, the assistant
ate the cupcake. In response, the SCP played the rest of “Happy
Birthday,” and the assistant suffered no adverse effects from the cupcake. All of this fun was brought to a swift end
when one scientist suggested that a portion of SCP-066’s yarn body be cut off and removed
so that the specimen could be tested. On April 18, 2008, the event that would become
known as Incident 066-2 took place. A young man known only as D-066-4437, or D,
was assigned to the task. Naturally, he was a member of the highly disposable
D Class personnel. But D was grateful for the opportunity, as
most experiments of a similar nature involved quite a bit more obvious risk. It was a simple enough job: take a pair of
scissors, snip off some yarn, and bring it back to the lab for further study. It was hardly on the level of supervising
173 or being 682’s latest chew toy. He entered the containment room, where SCP-066
was lying dormant and still, and approached it with the scissors. He grabbed a small handful of string, and
started to cut. As soon as the scissors began to cut through
the fabric, the SCP rolled out of his grasp. It came to a stop one meter away, where it
started to make a high-pitched squeaking sound resembling the cry of a frightened rabbit. Unsure what to do and unprepared for this
scenario, D approached the entity again. He snagged another fistful of yarn and cut,
only for 066 to curl into a ball and roll away from him again, even faster this time. Once it was safely on the other side of the
room and away from the scissors it stopped moving. Only this time it didn't squeak. Instead, for the very first time since its
containment, it spoke in a deep, uncannily human voice and asked: “Are you Eric?” After recovering from his initial shock at
hearing a voice come out of a mass of string, D responded “No, I’m not.” This answer set something off in SCP-066,
and its form began to shift and change. The string wriggled around on the floor, unbraiding
and wrapping around itself into a mound. The colors, previously a rainbow of shades,
shifted until every strand was blood red. Much to D’s horror, the transformation was
not yet complete. Small bumps began to emerge from the spaces
between the strands of yarn, popping out all over the bright red mass. If that wasn’t terrifying enough, suddenly
all together as one, they blinked open, revealing themselves to be over a dozen small eyes. Every single eye was focused at D, studying
him, staring him down. SCP-066 then began to produce loud, abrupt,
dissonant notes like someone banging on the keys of a piano. D had seen enough. He abandoned his task and fled the containment
room. After this failed attempt to extract a sample,
SCP-066’s behavior and its treatment of personnel who interacted with it began to
change dramatically. Before the incident, the SCP was largely dormant,
only becoming active if a melody was played using its strands. Following the incident, and its change of
form, 066 began to move on its own. Long strands of its yarn body would move like
tentacles, writhing and wriggling around at a high speed. It no longer needed human interaction in order
to produce sound, or to produce any other effects. At the sight of any human, regardless of the
human’s behavior, the SCP would begin to react with sound and effect within six seconds. The first of these effects was noted by a
research assistant who entered the SCP’s containment facility a week after the incident
with D. As she approached 066 to take notes about its current state and its new ability
to move, a bee appeared out of nowhere. It stung the assistant and flew away before
it could be captured. Weeks later, a team of eleven personnel were
monitoring the SCP when it suddenly burst into a rendition of Beethoven’s second symphony. It produced this music at a volume of over
140 decibels, permanently deafening three of the personnel, and causing permanent hearing
damage in the other eight. It was theorized that the SCP did this as
an act of retribution for its perceived mistreatment. These personnel refused to work with SCP-066
again. When a new team was assigned to monitor the
entity, everything seemed to be going well at first. It was moving around, flailing its tentacles
of yarn at nothing in particular, and staring at the personnel with its many eyes, but otherwise
was on its best behavior. Then, suddenly, every light in the room went
dark, and there was a complete loss of visibility. The lights were unable to be turned on for
five hours, and any attempt at an alternate light source such as a flashlight was unsuccessful. It was as if the darkness in the room swallowed
any and all light right up. It was similar to the oppressive darkness
within SCP – 087, or the unlimited black of SCP – 3001’s shadow dimension. The personnel in the room later reported hearing
the sound of loud, labored breathing just behind their shoulders, though when they searched
for a source of the sound, they could find nothing. There have been no recent anomalies reported,
or any additional hostile behavior. Instead, whenever it sees a new human, SCP-066
repeats the name “Eric” again and again in that same deep voice. Who is Eric? No one at the facility knows, or, if they
do, they have not reported it to any official channels. It is possible that the SCP was once owned
by someone named Eric and perhaps, given the circumstances under which SCP-066 first said
the name, Eric attempted to cut the threads of the entity while it was in his care. Unfortunately, there are no official records
of how SCP-066 was discovered, or why it was brought to the foundation in the first place. Its origins remain murky and as mysterious
as everything else about it. All that is known is that, whoever Eric is,
SCP-066 is determined to find him. Once the SCP’s class was changed from Safe
to Euclid, its containment procedures had to be adjusted. While it was previously kept in a simple room,
it is now contained in a tungsten carbide box at its site’s high-value item storage
facility. Once a month, the box is inspected for damage
to its interior, due to the SCP’s tendency to use its appendages to wear down the walls
of the box over time. If there is any damage, SCP-066 is to be moved
to a new box using a robotic arm that performs this transfer in less than three seconds. The Foundation has attempted to place recording
devices in the box with the entity in order to monitor its behavior when there are no
humans present. But the SCP destroys every recording device
placed inside of its containment box and any attempts to record its behavior when it is
not being observed by humans have been unsuccessful. Whatever it’s doing when there is no one
around it wants to keep a secret. On the surface, SCP-066 is one of the less
frightening finds contained within the walls of the SCP Foundation. It does not have claws, or teeth, or the ability
to cause mass deaths, but it has incredible, unpredictable capabilities, and seems very
capable of holding a grudge. There is so much that is unknown about it,
from its origins, to its form, to its ability to manifest matter from nothing, and there
is something deeply unsettling about this SCP’s unpredictable behavior and increased
hostility toward being observed. We do not know what it has done, and we do
not know what it will do next. All we can do is wonder. As we ponder the nature of SCP-066, it does
nothing but sit, staring with unblinking eyes, waiting for Eric to come back.
