A very strange anomaly sits in a humanoid
containment cell in the minimum security wing of Site 17. He walks, talks, and looks like a man, but
everything else is convoluted in a question mark. This is SCP-343 - Who, like his namesake,
God, is likely to cause arguments whenever he’s brought up. Is he the creator of all that exists? The basis for the Abrahamic Faiths? Or is he a pretender - A reality warper with
immense power and a predilection towards delusion? A courtesan of the House of Malidraug? Matthew? Methuselah? Yahweh? Who knows? Really, it depends on who you ask, and which
stories you choose to believe. And few people enjoy a good story more than
SCP-343 himself. If, one day, you take the time to visit him
in his room, and ask him to reveal a page in the long book of his personal history,
he might be kind enough to tell you a story. A story like this - Of an encounter with something
monstrous, that few others could hope to survive meeting face to face… Rewind a few thousand years. Nobody knows how many, exactly. God - as he chooses to dub himself - walked
across the cracked ground on worn sandals. It’d been some time since he’d seen an
animal around here, and even longer since he’d seen a human being. Not that this bothered him. He’d never been bothered by his own company
on a long walk like this. Of course, he could have sped up time or teleported,
but where was the fun in that? He was a tourist in the world of sensation. Of experience. Of flesh, bone, dirt, blood, and sand. After all, where’s the fun in creating a
whole universe if you can’t drop in now and then to visit and do as the Romans do? Not that the Romans would be around for another
few thousand years. Even Atlas must occasionally shift the weight
of the globe from his shoulders for a jaunt around the cosmic neighborhood, and whatever
passes for “fresh air” in the vacuum. God whistled a tune to himself. It was a craggy, mountainous region he’d
found himself in. The distant peaks had frosted caps. A breathtaking place, where many truly had
their breaths taken away. How humans will so happily risk their lives
to do something extraordinary. It never ceased to amaze him. His stomach rumbled. Oh, how he enjoyed that sensation. One of the funny little quirks of this human
form that he’d weaved for himself. It was no reason to be concerned - If memory
served, from his last trip through the area a few decades before, there was a friendly
village not far from here. They had always accepted him as a genial stranger,
having no knowledge of his true power. God had always believed that a person’s
goodness is defined by how they treat those from whom they had nothing to gain. So it caused him great concern as he approached
the village, and saw great plumes of smoke rising into the sky. He was so shocked by this that he decided
to break his rule about walking as a man, in case there was still some way he could
help. With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared
and reappeared in the center of the village’s town square. Total devastation. Huts and houses had been torn asunder. Broken weapons lay on the ground. Some places were on fire, others smeared with
streaks of blood, like some terrible battle had occurred here. But something was wrong. No bodies. Not one, from defender or assailant. How could a thriving village be so thoroughly
destroyed, and not leave a single corpse? It was an act so bizarre and depraved that
it even left God puzzling. That was another downside of his human form:
Here, on earth, he didn’t have access to true omniscience. How could a mere human mind, bound by the
constraints of linear time, ever truly comprehend the totality of existence? Even attempting to do that here would melt
the brain of his human body in its skull, and leave it dribbling out of his nose and
ears. Instead, he chose to walk around the ruins
of the village and investigate firsthand. Arrows and broken spears and swords littered
the ground. Some buildings were demolished, but there
were no tracks or stray projectiles that could suggest the presence of siege weapons. No, these buildings looked like they were
ripped apart. Some even still had claw marks… What terrible beast could have set upon this
town and done this? Then, he heard a voice, quiet and pleading
beneath some nearby rubble. A survivor! He rushed over to the pile and evaporated
it with a thought, Underneath, a feeble old man, covered in stone dust, was quivering. God helped him up and guided him into one
of the few remaining huts still standing in the village. They both took seats - God held up two hands,
cradling empty space. Two cups suddenly occupied that space, both
filled with warm, healing tea. He passed the old man one of the cups while
sipping from his own. He asked the old man if he’d seen what had
happened. The old man told him, no, he hadn’t seen
anything in decades. He’d been rendered blind in his youth. Little did either of them know, that very
blindness was the only reason he was the sole survivor of the massacre. The blind man told God that one of the village’s
scouts had gone up into the mountain with a small hunting party. The group was gone for days, until one of
the members - the youngest among them - returned, weeping, frostbitten, and covered in blood. He said that his friends had been killed by
a beast in the mountains. Something that looked almost like a man, but
terribly wrong. And its face. Its awful, awful face. He would never forget it. He was just lucky to escape with his life
when the others were torn apart. But when the young man returned, he’d brought
the shadow of death with him. It was a curse that doomed the entire village
- men, women, and children - to a terrible fate. And that fate was upon them a mere hour after
the survivor had returned. Of course, there were gaps in the blind man’s
understanding, given he was lacking one of his major senses. But the sounds he could describe with perfect
clarity. It was faint and distant at first. That awful wail, and the galloping. Hands and feet thundering against the ground,
faster than any horse could move. Getting closer and closer and closer. Another villager saw it approaching and screamed,
then it was upon them. The villagers screamed but it screamed louder. Always wailing and shrieking and sobbing like
a monster crawled straight up from hell. People tried to fight it, by the sounds of
it. The blind man, with teary, blank eyes, recalled
the sounds of arrows nocking and swords clashing against… Something. But even their greatest warriors had screamed
and died. Those who saw it and tried to flee and hide
were slaughtered all the same. Soon enough, there were only two sounds left
in the village. The monster and the blind man, both weeping. He didn’t understand why it never took him. It wasn’t fair. It took everything else. To leave him here, alive, when everyone and
everything he’d ever known was destroyed, was a greater punishment than even death. After killing all of these innocents, the
monster had simply wandered off to the mountains again, the sound of its quiet sobs getting
smaller and smaller until it was gone altogether. God comforted the blind man as he wept for
the loss of all his loved ones. He told the blind man that he would venture
up to the mountains himself and confront the creature on its own territory, and, at the
very least, find out why it had done this terrible thing. But first, he must relocate the blind man
to a safer place. He placed a hand on the blind man’s shoulder
and he vanished. He would appear in another friendly village,
miles away. God sent a silent message into the minds of
every villager: Take good care of this man. He has undergone horrors you can’t even
imagine. Your kindness will be rewarded later, for
that, you have my promise. God sighed and turned his tired eyes to the
distant mountains. A monster lurked up there - Perhaps one of
his own creations, or maybe a corruption of one of his creations. Either way, whatever existed without his knowledge
existed without his consent, and he intended to know of the beast in the mountains. Though given what he’d seen already, he
didn’t expect to receive a warm welcome from this murderous demon. Miles away, up in the mountains, the creature
licked the blood from its cracked lips. It looked like it might once have been a human
being or something that aspired to humanity, or mocked it with its very existence. It was a huge, gangling beast, skin alabaster,
eyes empty and soulless, dribbling rivulets of burning tears down a hideous, gaunt face. It crawled into the frozen mouth of a cave
with great icicle fangs, wheezing and weeping. All it ever wanted was to be alone. Why did they have to keep interfering? Didn’t they know what happened? All the terrible things they’d made it do… The creature curled its long, gangly body
into the fetal position, scratching great ruts into the sides of its bald cranium with
long, sharp fingers. Terrible things. Terrible, terrible things… And then there was a brilliant flash, just
a few feet away. The monster was surprised, it turned to see
a figure silhouetted in the mouth of the cave. He wore sandals and thin robes. His eyes glowed with a kind of power that
the monster didn’t recognize. This stranger stared at the monster without
an ounce of fear in his heart: He stared right into its eyes, unwavering. No! No, no, no, no! It could feel it again. The rage bubbling up, deep down. A cauldron of seething anger. It hated the feeling, like being lowered into
a vat of molten metal. Unspeakable fire and pain coursing through
every vessel. It began to weep and scream while the stranger
in the cave mouth just watched, not moving a muscle. “Do you know who I am?” the stranger asked with a deep voice that
betrayed almost infinite power, knowledge, and wisdom. But it wouldn’t change the outcome here. The monster bounded at him at speeds that
wouldn’t be seen again until jet planes and bullet trains are invented millennia into
the future. Its jaws were hanging impossibly wide, fangs
borne, its arms extended and deadly claws ready to strike. But before those terrible hands could close
around the stranger, he vanished. The monster stumbled and rolled across the
snow, confused. What trickery was being used here? “I’ll take that as a no,” said the voice
from behind him. “You ought to show your father some respect. More respect than you gave to those poor people
down in the village, at least.” Seething, the creature turned and saw the
stranger standing back in the darkness of the cave, staring at him. But the beast didn’t have the capacity for
awe or holy terror. Only violence. Boundless, limitless, unstoppable violence. It darted towards the stranger again, trying
to strike at him. Somehow, it was like fighting an empty robe. Not a single one of its deadly strikes seemed
to hit the stranger. The stranger leaped backwards, putting some
space between himself and the monster but still not breaking a sweat. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled. The breath came out like a mighty typhoon,
shocking even the monster with its sudden force. It was blown backwards, a leaf in the wind,
until its long claws dug into the ground and anchored it in place. The stranger gave a wry smile at this, impressed. “My, my, you’re certainly a tenacious
one, aren’t you?” he said. “Perhaps we can talk for a little while
instead of fighting. I want to know why you killed all those people.” No answer. The beast roared, its mighty limbs pounding
into the ground as it closed the gap between itself and the stranger in fractions of a
second. It would kill him. Rend him. Destroy him just like all the others. He’d left it no choice! Suddenly, the ground below it seemed to give
away. The creature was confused. It looked down to see that the ancient stone
below had somehow taken on the properties of a liquid, and it was sinking. The beast panicked and began to thrash. It was a strong swimmer, but it didn’t expect
to need to swim here. The shock was too much, and soon, the ground
submerged it entirely, muffling its terrible roars and shrieks. And just like that, the ground was solid again,
trapping the beast inside. The stranger stepped forward and looked at
the ground. “A much-needed time out,” he said. “You do yourself no good struggling like
this.” Despite its terrible capacity for evil, God
couldn’t help but admire the beast, at least on the level of construction. It was so pared down, so unburdened. A killer to the core, but seemingly unkillable. Had he made this creature? Billions of species and the species those,
in turn, had created through billions of years of breeding and evolution, and somewhere along
the line, this thing happened. It was easy even for the universe’s creator
to lose track of some of the tinier variables. And in the grand scheme of things, even this
monster was still a tiny variable. But right here, right now, it was still one
hell of a problem. The ground rumbled below God. Cracks formed. The mountain peak shook. God raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed,
as the monster ripped free of its stone prison and re-entered the fray. It roared and screamed still, its blank eyes
fixed on him. Its skeletal body throbbed and heaved with
power. Unlike any other creature in nature, it was
almost like, the longer their conflict went on, the more energized the beast became. God sighed. All those poor villagers. They never stood a chance against this monster. It lunged for him, even faster and stronger
than before. He teleported out of the way in the nick of
time and the beast’s claws cleaved through a nearby cave wall, effortless. God materialized nearby, but he didn’t have
time to speak. The beast lunged again, and again, and again. Every time he reappeared, the beast went for
him with impossible speed. Deciding to widen the playing field, God teleported
to the top of the mountain. The creature, somehow sensing his presence,
vaulted upwards and tunneled through the roof of the cave, bursting out of the ground in
front of God, who was floating just slightly off the ground. “It would be wise of you to stop,” God
carefully intoned. “All this time, you know, I’ve been going
easy on you. You don’t want to find out what the wrath
of God looks like.” Storm clouds were gathering above. Mighty thunder roared across the sky. The beast was undeterred. It roared and galloped towards God. And God, in turn, called down a response. A volley of lightning the likes of which the
world has never seen before or since struck down on the charging monster. The sudden white flash could sting the eyes
from miles away. The monster shrieked from the blast, feeling
its flesh lift off its bones and atomize in the sheer heat of the electricity around it. It could smell itself cooking. The lightning blasts only lasted for a few
seconds, but for the beast, it felt like an eternity. When the onslaught stopped, the air was still
heavy with electrical potential. God stared down at the black scorch mark on
the side of the mountain where the creature had been standing. All the snow within the mile had been evaporated
by the blast. It was a raw display of the power of nature
that would make even Zeus tremble in his sandals. And yet… There was still movement. Something started to get up from the burnt
patch where nothing should be left alive. A blackened skeleton, rising shakily from
the ash but still very much alive. As it started to rise, new flesh began growing
over the bones, little by little. Even God was astonished by the sight of it. He’d never seen a creature cling so ardently
to life in spite of having truly unsurmountable power amassed against it. It was up against God, and still, it fought. The monster tottered on its freakishly long
limbs, still disoriented, unusually staggered for a creature driven by such single-minded,
violent purpose. When enough of its face grew back to do so,
it began to weep and sob again, tears streaking down its terrible face. Looking at this creature, after all this,
God couldn’t help but feel a new emotion: Pity. He lowered himself to the ground and approached
the creature. Like none had ever done before, he gathered
it up into his arms and held it, feeling its heaving, wretched sobs against him. This beast was in so much pain. He could feel it, radiating from within. “Speak, my son,” God said in a soft, fatherly
voice. And for the first and only time, the monster
spoke, “Can’t look. Can’t see. Make me hurt people. Don’t want hurt people. Can’t look, can’t look. Please.” That was all it managed to choke out before
devolving back into unintelligible babble. But it was enough. Enough for God to understand its pain. He did not know if it would be right to change
the monster’s nature - is it ever right to truly change anyone’s nature? - but it was within his almost limitless power
to grant it one reprieve from its pain. He settled the beast in the snow below him. It was quiet and still. And God said unto the beast, “Rest now,
child. Rest for thousands of years, if you must. I hope only that when you eventually awaken,
you feel differently…” And so another story from the catalog of SCP-343. Of course, it leaves us with certain questions,
chief among them being: Is it true? Did 343 and 096 have this chance encounter
long ago, or is this just another tall tale from an anomaly who fancies himself a deity? We have our truth, and you have yours. Let us know what you believe down below in
the comments. Now go check out “SCP-096 Shy Guy ESCAPE
- Incident 096-1-A Containment Breach” and “Your Questions for God Answered” for
more fascinating tales of the anomalies featured in this video!
