You’re deep in the middle of a late night
study session when you hear something… it’s a sort of clicking sound. You try to ignore it and get back to your
books, but there it is again. You turn up your music. There, that’s better. It was probably nothing. Just the house creaking - but no, there it
is again. You need to figure out what is causing this. You look around, is it coming from outside
your window? Another click. It’s definitely coming from outside. You slowly make your way to the window. It’s dark out, and you can’t see anything
with the glare. Slowly, you reach out, grab the window, pull
it open, and… Nothing. You stick your head out and look around, but
there’s nothing to see. You close the window and go back to studying. But then it happens again. The next morning you’re eating breakfast
when you start to hear that clicking noise again. But still nothing is there. On the bus you could swear it’s coming from
the seat right behind you. No sign of anything once again. You’re in the middle of your test. Vertebrae are connected to each other by…
what’s the word? It’s not going quite as well as you hoped,
it was hard to study last night with the constant clicking, but you’re giving it your best. At least the noise has stopped so you can
concentrate for a bit. You jump up and look behind you, determined
to catch what’s making this noise, but there’s nothing there. You look around at your confused classmates
before sheepishly sitting back down. The cracking noise is almost endless now. You can hardly go a moment without hearing
it. It goes on like this for months and months. No one else can hear it, and no one seems
to believe you. On one level, you’ve been able to get used
to it, but on another, you never have adjusted to the constant clicking that follows you
everywhere you go. You’re sitting on the floor of your room,
concentrating, focusing hard, trying to will the noise out of your mind. You clench your eyes shut as hard as you can
and put all of your mental energy towards stopping the noise when just then… it’s
gone. No more clicks. You open your eyes, could this be it? Could it all be over? Click, click, click. You turn around to see it. But it’s too late. What you have just witnessed is a textbook
example of an SCP-4975 attack. An anomaly that has been aptly nicknamed… Time’s Up. SCP-4975 is a tall, thin, entity with some
vaguely avian features, most notably a beak. Its long limbs lack any distinct digits, instead
tapering off into formless nubs, and a thick, hardened layer of dark skin covers its entire
body including its beak. In addition to its striking appearance, SCP-4975
is perhaps best known for the distinctive clicking sound that it makes. The vertebrae in its long neck are not connected
by any intervertebral discs or other tendons, and each of these neck bones appears to be
able to move independently of one another. It rotates these vertebrae constantly, one
at a time, from bottom to top ending at its head, creating a constant swinging motion
of the head back and forth. It is each movement of these vertebrae that
produces the distinctive clicking or cracking sound. SCP-4975’s primary behavior is the pursuit
and stalking of human beings. Once it has chosen a target, for reasons that
still remain unknown, it will begin to follow them, and only the target will be able to
hear the clicking sound, though they won’t be able to determine where the sound is actually
coming from. SCP-4975 will continue to stalk its victims
for an extended period of time, as long as ten months or more, until at some point it
stops swinging its head, the clicking sounds cease, and 4975 attacks. In an attack, SCP-4975 uses its long appendages
to club and tear the victim apart, after which it will consume them, often starting while
the victim is still alive. One single human size cadaver appears to be
enough to last SCP-4975 for several months, after which it will target a new prey and
begin the process all over again. Evidence of SCP-4975 has been found as far
back as 1538, with a creature very similar to it appearing in numerous German folk tales. Multiple artistic depictions from the time
also show a large, black avian creature that can only be assumed to be the same anomaly. In what should be a bit of good news, SCP-4975
is currently in containment at an SCP Foundation facility, where it is confined to a standard
steel containment cell. However as you’ll soon see, this containment
has not resulted in the end of SCP-4975 attacks, and reports of new incidents continue to come
in. In one such report from the Black Forest region
of Germany, Foundation Agents were investigating the case of a local man who had reported that
he had been hearing a rhythmic clicking sound for over four months. The man assumed he was being stalked, or was
the subject of a cruel prank, and asked the local authorities to look into the matter. The Foundation Agents took the man into custody,
giving the cover story to the local police that the man had been experiencing auditory
hallucinations and paranoia as a side effect of an experimental chemotherapy he had been
receiving. The agents took the man to the last place
he had heard the clicking sound, which was a wooded area. As they walked through the forest, the man
grew increasingly nervous, until he stopped and pointed at a tree, claiming that it was
where the sound was coming from. The man froze in fear as the agents drew their
weapons and prepared to inspect the three. They split up and with a tactical efficiency,
circled the tree on either side to find… nothing. At the same time, the man screamed, pointing
at a creature the agents could not see that the man claimed was coming for him. The man was thrown to the ground by his invisible
assailant and struck multiple times. The agents attempted to attack where it seemed
the invisible creature should be, but their fists and weapons passed through the air as
if nothing was there. Another agent attempted to drag the man away
but he was pinned down by a mysterious force. A large wound began to appear on the man’s
midsection as his abdomen was opened up. Still unable to move the man or stop whatever
it was that was attacking him, and with no other options, a Foundation Agent took out
his gun and terminated the man. Moments later, as the Agents looked on, strips
of flesh began to be torn from the body and vanish, as if an invisible creature was feeding
on the deceased man. But this invisible attack wasn’t even the
strangest part. At the exact moment the man in Germany was
killed and devoured by an unseen force, SCP-4975 was observed to be standing motionless, staring
at the southeastern corner of its containment cell, and it was no longer clicking its neck. Any human contact with SCP-4975 has been disallowed,
and all current research into the creature has been temporarily ceased. Though it has been classified as Euclid, following
these continued attacks and the bizarre behavior it exhibits as they take place, reclassification
to Keter-class is pending. In the event that a containment breach takes
place, it is official Foundation policy that any personnel who begin hearing a persistent
rhythmic cracking noise are to isolate themselves from other staff, and calmly wait for SCP-4975
to be returned to its chamber, or for the noises to stop. Perhaps as you wait for the clicking noise
to cease, you can amuse yourself with an old German nursery rhyme that is believed to have
been written about SCP-4975. Its translation goes: "Tick tock", the cuckoo clock ticks. "Cuckoo", the bird inside sings. As ticks the time, so ticks your heart. May you live long as you hear its song. Listen close, for when it stops
the hatchling comes out of its home. Did you hear it? Did it stop? My child, it meant your time… was up. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, and make sure you subscribe and turn on notifications, so you don’t miss
a single anomaly, as we delve further and further into the SCP Foundation’s classified
archives.
