The year is 1941, and the world is gripped
by the most violent and widespread war in history. Millions march to war as bloody battles are
fought across the globe, horrendous atrocities are carried out on groups of people, and parts
of London are bombed to rubble on a weekly basis. Considering it’s only been twenty years
since the last world war, it must seem to the residents of the early 20th century that
the world is coming apart at the seams. And amongst all this chaos, it’d be easy
not to notice a secluded manor house in the English countryside disappearing without a
trace for eleven days, before suddenly returning to our reality. But thankfully, one organization makes it
its sole duty to notice the unnoticeable and understand the impossible - The SCP Foundation. And within that anomalous manor house, Foundation
agents and researchers were about to find horrors beyond even their darkest imaginations. This is the grim tale of SCP - 1461, better
known as… The House of the Worm. When the manor house reappeared after its
eleven day absence, the Foundation zeroed in, sending agents inside to investigate. It was a two-level dwelling complete with
twelve bedrooms, four baths, three studies, a main foyer slash ballroom, a library, a
kitchen, and a pantry-basement. The Foundation observed that a number of these
rooms had been fitted with rows of bunk beds, similar to a boarding house or barracks. Only later would they understand why. They found that the upper portion of the home
exhibited no abnormal qualities whatsoever, but as the agents investigated further, they
found an entrance to the truly anomalous portion of the manor - The extensive sub-level system. No previous records of the building kept by
the local council indicated that there would be anything below the manor’s basement - so
either the mysterious previous occupants, who were nowhere to be found, had built this
sub-level, or it’d just appeared here on its own. Regardless of which was the case, agents and
researchers knew that whatever had happened down here had everything to do with the manor’s
mysterious disappearance. They descended into the depths of what seemed
like a man-made cave system, constructed primarily from a mix of concrete, iron, and brass. It was a behemoth of 20th century technology
- intricate, snaking systems of pipes, gears, and pumping pistons. It was like someone had built an entire factory
down here - but for what? The agents began to spread out through the
labyrinthine bowels of the manor, hoping to find some answers, but all they seemed to
discover was more questions. This place hadn’t been built with any form
of comprehensible logic. It was full of dead ends, stairways that ascended
and descended to nowhere, doors that would open to reveal just walls behind them or not
open at all. It was like a maze built by a maniac. It didn’t help that it looked like the place
was recently hit by an earthquake with some passages caved in and mangled machinery strewn
about. It seemed that no human workers had interfered
with the impossibly complex and bizarre machinery in quite some time. A number of the materials used to construct
said machinery, as well as the gray sandstone filling in the collapsed passageways, remain
unidentified to this day. Already, the sub-level was proving to be a
complex puzzle box with only an estimated 75% of its layout ultimately being mapped
by Foundation researchers. However, they would soon realize that this
place wasn’t just confusing - it was deadly. The only method of self-maintenance detected
by the exploring agents were pipes that would fire a thick, black lubricant onto the surrounding
machinery. One of the Foundation agents had the misfortune
of getting covered in it while exploring a darkened passageway, and eighty percent of
his body was melted as a result. It appeared that the viscous, black goo was
incredibly corrosive to all organic matter. A number of the machines also emitted dangerously
high quantities of gamma and X-ray radiation, making it difficult to explore many of the
caverns without heavy hazmat protection. And worst of all, were the extremely hostile
creatures living in the caves who would regularly attack Foundation personnel. These abominations came to be known as SCP
- 1461 - 1, vicious, steampunk Frankenstein monsters - once human, but with large parts
of their bodies replaced by crude, mechanical implants - including metal teeth and claws. 1461-1’s have displayed a taste for human
flesh, and they have dragged multiple Foundation agents down into their lair to be “converted”
into monsters like them. It’s believed that SCP-1461 is capable of
controlling these beasts through the strategic use of sound from its brass speaking pipes,
leading them into areas where Foundation personnel are present to instigate conflict. Many of these pitiful creatures have had their
throats replaced by phonographs, endlessly repeating the same nonsense phrases over and
over again: “I am what you have made me. I am choice and I am tyranny. Forgive me. I am then and I am now. What gods they will be, then. I am evil and I am flesh. I am the trap. I am the trapped. I am beauty and I am chaos. Children are selfish. I am the worm. I have broken God.” Still, in spite of mazes, monsters, and deadly
chemicals, the agents persisted, and managed to discover several important locations. The Gel Production chamber on Sub-Level 3
creates glass jars from the unidentified sandstone, and fills them with a slime that looks to
contain living eyes and teeth. The Factory Deliveries room is filled with
a huge number of crates and boxes, which seem to shift and change in number between Foundation
patrols. The Speaking Tube Room on Sub-Level Eleven
contains a grand pulpit that acts as the connecting point for the complex array of speaking tubes
running through the entire cave system. The body parts of a deceased female also appear
to be wired into the machinery, like spare parts. And on Sub-Level Twelve, they found the so-called
Catalyst Room. Here, they discovered a huge, complicated,
clockwork and steam-powered machine that appeared to be broken and missing some parts. Most horrifying of all though, is the raised
platform in the center of the Catalyst Room on top of which is a metal hospital bed. A desiccated male corpse rests upon this bed,
its chest punctured by large syringes connected by tubes to some kind of pumping machine. The parts connecting this pumping machine
to the overall apparatus of the room were missing though, leaving its purpose a mystery. The Foundation assumed that fluids used to
be drawn out of this corpse to somehow power the machine. You may be starting to worry that there don’t
seem to be any answers here, that this house is one big mystery - but lucky for you, you’re
wrong. An old journal was also discovered in the
Catalyst Room, and if what is written inside is to be believed, then we may finally have
some truth about who created the House of the Worm, why it was created, and what horrible
events triggered its mysterious disappearance and reappearance. His true name has been redacted by the Foundation
and special efforts have been made to maintain secrecy around the House, seeing as it’s
an anomaly of great interest to a cult known as the Church of the Broken God, so we’ll
just call the one who made this place “The Inventor.” Before any of this, the Inventor was one of
the many Englishmen traumatized and almost killed in the horrific trench battles of World
War One. After a near death experience, the Inventor,
like many geniuses and madmen, was plagued by surreal and nightmarish visions. He saw a huge creature that he referred to
as “The Worm” - a gigantic, metal monstrosity with dragon-like jaws full of gnashing gears
that rampaged through Europe, destroying and devouring everything in its path. These apocalyptic visions also presented him
with a solution, vague blueprints for a machine that might be the salvation of him and any
others willing to take his new gospel to heart. An escape from a world that the Inventor knew
in his heart was about to end. He hired work-starved labourers from across
the country to help him make his visions a reality and began a massive, secret construction
project beneath his isolated country manor house. For The Inventor, it was all a labour of love. He wanted to protect his wife, son, and daughter
from the terrible jaws of the Worm. But as the project stretched on, his wife
began to suspect that he’d lost his mind. Many of his workers, however, felt just the
opposite. They became infatuated by the Inventor’s
sermons on the nature of the Worm and the coming apocalypse they hoped to escape. Soon enough, they had become a bonafide cult,
constructing the elaborate sublevels underneath the house in preparation for the fast approaching
day of reckoning. Then came World War Two. The Inventor saw Hitler, hungry for war, as
one of the avatars of the Worm. Finally, knowing the time was right, he activated
the machine, and successfully trapped the Worm in the bowels of his mechanized home. However, as the Blitz raged and London’s
bombing began, the Inventor felt as though he hadn’t stopped anything. He realized once and for all that he was never
meant to stop the apocalypse, only escape it. And by throwing the final switch and setting
the machine he and his followers had built into overdrive, he did just that. This was the moment the House of the Worm
disappeared, transporting the Inventor, his family, and his devoted staff to a different
world. An empty grey world, devoid of war, but also
lacking all the comforts of regular life, including food. Things went downhill from there, as their
supplies quickly began to run out, and the cult descended into cannibalism in order to
survive. Things weren’t going much better in the
Inventor’s personal life. His wife, fearing what would happen to the
family, took her own life and the life of his daughter. Though by this point, the Inventor’s mind
was so fractured that it’s possible he may have killed them himself. Either way, it was only the Inventor and his
son left, and more trouble was brewing. Eudora, one of the staff trapped in the building
with the Inventor and his cult, started a mutiny. She claimed the Worm spoke to her from below,
and that their only path to salvation was pleasing the Worm. How would they please it? A sacrifice, of course. They would give it the son of the man who
had trapped it. The mutineers took the Inventor’s only remaining
child, and descended into the lowest sub levels. The Inventor followed, hoping to track them
down, save his son, and salvage something from this nightmare. As he ventured deeper, battling the members
of Eudora’s new cult, he found that they were changing themselves, becoming the half-human
cyborg creatures that the Foundation would later discover. The Inventor would find Eudora herself in
the Speaking Tube Room. Her body, still living, was wired into the
machinery, and she had sacrificed his son to the Worm. In a rage, the Inventor murdered Eudora, or
whatever was left of her, then heard a familiar voice speaking out of a nearby speaking tube. It said: “I am what you have made me. I am then and I am now. I am choice and I am tyranny. I am evil and I am flesh. I am beauty and I am chaos. I am the worm." The voice was his own. In that terrible moment, the Inventor realised
that the Worm wasn’t a giant, all-devouring monster, it was him. In trying to protect his loved ones from a
perceived apocalypse, he’d brought them all to their horrible demise. He’d trapped them with the monster he’d
hoped for them all to escape from, because no matter what you build, you can’t escape
who you are. Grief stricken and broken, the Inventor descended
into the Catalyst Room. There was his son, stuck with the syringes,
drained of all life to fuel the mighty machine his father created. In his last moments, the Inventor decided
to do the only noble thing: He threw himself into the machine, destroying both it and himself
in the process. The house was transported back to our reality,
but the Worm, in a sense, was no more. But who knows if the Worm is really dead. Its thoughts and poisonous intent still lingers
in the caverns, and rattles through the speaking pipes. Whatever really happened, the Foundation is
still picking up the pieces today - and who knows what lurks in the parts still hidden
from our knowledge. Now go check out “SCP - 082 - Fernand the
Cannibal” and “SCP - 2935 - O, Death” for more fascinating freaky files from the
Foundation.
