“Twenty-three… bust” the dealer says
before scooping up the cards from in front of the man who appears to be growing increasingly
angry as his stack of chips increasingly dwindles in size. Making matters worse for the man, are the
cheers of excitement coming from the nearby craps table, where it seems all of the luck
that he has lost has somehow been transported. As the blackjack dealer once again reveals
an ace and a king, another burst of noise comes from the craps game. “Seven again” the croupier cries before
placing a huge stack of chips in front of the young man playing craps who seemingly
can’t lose. The young man on the hot streak collects his
winnings and walks happily through the crowded casino floor right past the fuming man at
the blackjack table. The young man cashes in his chips and counts
the large stack of hundred dollar bills given to him before tipping one to the woman working
inside the cage. And this night is far from a rarity for this
young man. For his entire life, it’s been as if he
couldn’t lose. He’s not strong, fast, or especially smart,
but he’s always managed to excel thanks to his one incredible gift - his never ending
good luck. The young man soon recognized his ability
to consistently beat games of chance and went to the one place in the world best suited
for his skills - Las Vegas. And Vegas has been very, very good to him. He lives in an expensive hotel room right
on the strip, drives fancy cars, and treats himself nightly to lavish dinners and shows. It’s all possible because no matter what
the game is, it’s as if he can never lose. The young man is in the middle of another
hot streak, or rather, continuing his never-ending hot streak, this time at the roulette table. “How does he keep doing it?” someone in the crowd asks as the man hits
another number straight up, paying out thirty-seven to one on his bet. The crowd cheers and slaps the man on his
back as a crowd has formed who are following along with his every bet, piggybacking on
his luck as much as they can. The man is just about to place another large
bet when he’s suddenly interrupted by a strong hand gripping his upper arm. The young man turns to find a large, toothy
grin staring back at him. The smiling man continues to hold onto the
young man’s arm as he explains how impressed the casino is with his skill. He must be the luckiest man they’ve ever
had the pleasure to have visited their casino, and the fact that he’s been able to sustain
that same run of luck night after night has been truly awe inspiring. The young man thanks him for his kind words
and tries to turn back to the table but finds that the man won’t let go of his arm, gripping
it even tighter now than before. “We’ve been so impressed, in fact” the
man tells him, “that the owners of his casino have requested the chance to meet with you.” The young man looks down at the huge, powerful
hand holding his arm, and even though he’s unaware that it belongs to a former heavyweight
contender, he’s still able to recognize that this request isn’t an optional one. “Sure,” the young man tells him, “just
let me grab my chips and - “ but the man begins to pull him away from the table, telling
him that there’s no need to worry, the casino will take care of his winnings. “After all, we have cameras everywhere,
who would steal?” The young man is soon pushed through a doorway
into a space that looks like a police interrogation room with just a single table and a couple
of chairs, one of which a small, older man is sitting in. The ex-boxer wrenches the young man’s arm
down onto the table and holds it in place there. The young man screams as the boxer grabs a
hammer with his free hand and raises it into the air, ready to bring it down on the young
man’s fingers. “Well?” the old man sitting across from
him asks. The young man has started to cry a little
but between whimpers he manages to ask “well what?” The old man wants to know how the young man
is cheating. No one wins the way he does, over and over,
night after night, no matter the game. The young man insists that he isn’t cheating,
he’s just lucky, he always has been, but the old man isn’t buying it. He nods to the boxer who raises the hammer
up again, but still the young man doesn’t admit to anything. “I’m just lucky. I’m just lucky,” he keeps repeating over
and over in between sobs. The old man stands up and pats him on the
shoulder. “Maybe you are,” he says, before slipping
something into the man’s pocket. The police then enter the room and immediately
take a set of loaded dice from the same pocket. He’s in real trouble now. The young man is shoved into a holding cell
at the jail and looks around at the other men, wondering if his luck has finally run
out. He squeezes in on one of the benches lining
the wall and accidentally bumps the man sitting next to him, waking him up from his nap. The man is angry at having been disturbed,
but grows even angrier when he realizes who just woke him, it’s the man who seemed to
take all the luck. The young man doesn’t seem to have noticed
that he’s upset him at all though. What he has noticed, is that there’s a penny
on the floor in front of him. The young man bends to pick it up just as
the man next to him throws a haymaker. His fist slams into the wall right where the
young man’s head just was, shattering many of the bones in his hand. The young man jumps up with a fright and runs
across the small cell as the other men being held also leap to their feet, some crying
out in confusion, others cheering on the violence. The young man cries out to the guards for
help but no one seems to be coming to his aid. He looks around the cell but there’s nowhere
for him to hide. The angry man, now madder than ever with a
hand that is rapidly turning purple and blue approaches him. He lifts the young man up with his good hand,
holding him in the air by his throat. “I’m going to kill you!” the man cries before the door to the cell
opens. The young man watches as the TASER prongs
fired by the jail guards appear on the man’s chest, and he drops the young man to the floor
before falling backwards from the 50,000 volts coursing through his body. The young man would learn the next day that
the angry man was dead before he even hit the floor, the result of a congenital heart
defect, and a lot of bad luck. The young man stands before a judge who is
listing off the charges against him, which include cheating, a felony in this state that
can result in a sentence of up to five years in prison. “But this isn’t your first offense, is
it?” The judge asks. The young man tries to explain that those
previous times were all mistakes, he’s never cheated in his life, but the judge doesn’t
want to hear it. The young man is sitting in the hallway outside
the courtroom when his lawyer emerges from his meeting with the judge and prosecutor. “Boy are you a lucky guy,” his lawyer
tells him. He goes on to explain that even though the
case against him is airtight, the charges are going to be dropped, provided he admits
himself to a special program. The young man assumes it must be some kind
of gambling addiction program. In no way is he addicted to gambling, but
what choice does he have? It’s either that, or prison, the choice
is easy. As the young man exits the courthouse he is
approached by a man in a suit, who leads him to a black van parked nearby. The young man is placed in the back and immediately
notices that there is a cage separating the back from the front seat, like a prison transport
van. The young man is growing nervous, where are
they taking him? This all seems like it’s happening so fast,
can it even be legal? And what about his things that were taken
at the jail? “Excuse me,” he asks the driver, what
about my things? I don’t even have my wallet. “Don’t worry about that,” the man driving
the van tells him. “You won’t need any of that anymore. You’re a D Class now.” The man doesn’t have any idea what that
means, but he can tell it isn’t good. His luck may have finally ran out. The young man, who once lived the life of
a professional Las Vegas gambler, was given a new name - D-87465. But as you’ll see, that name wouldn’t
last very long, and soon would be known as SCP-181… or as the SCP Foundation staff
liked to refer to him… Lucky. SCP-181, was first noticed by the Foundation
following his being arrested for repeatedly defrauding the Nevada Gaming Commission. He was originally made a member of the Foundation’s
Class D personnel, the guinea pigs of the SCP Foundation who are used for various tests
with anomalies in order to better understand their properties. However it soon became clear that the man’s
ability to consistently beat the odds had nothing to do with cheating. In his first experiment, which took place
at Armed Reliquary Containment Area-02, where he and several other Class Ds were exposed
to an SCP that is known to to incite extreme anger and murderous tendencies in those who
come into contact with it. Just as expected, one of the other D Class
members became enraged and began rampaging, killing all of the other Class Ds present… all except for one. Through what appeared to be a stroke of good
luck, the frenzying D Class seemed to miss D-87465, who had laid down on the ground amongst
the other bodies and was playing dead. An armed response team soon entered the experimentation
cell and put down the rampaging D Class, sparing D-87465. He was next submitted to a test with SCP-075,
a creature that resembles a large snail with a muscular foot shaped like a six-fingered,
clawed hand. SCP-075 is much heavier than its small size
makes it seem like it should, weighing approximately 860 kilograms. Despite this, it is able to move at an extremely
high speed, quickly leaping towards anyone who comes near it and spraying them with a
deadly corrosive liquid. D-87465 was placed in a cell with SCP-075
as part of a test to measure its speed and reaction time, but despite SCP-075 having
immediately killed all prior D Classes during tests, D-87465 somehow managed to keep avoiding
its leaping attacks. He was always able to guess which direction
to move in order to dodge the deadly snail, like a soccer goalie who always picks the
right way to dive to stop penalty kicks. Having now survived not one but two experiments
that exposed him to Keter class anomalies, researchers needed to find out if D-87465
was himself anomalous, or simply a statistical anomaly. In order to test this, the D Class was placed
in the containment cell of SCP-082, better known to most as Fernand the Cannibal, a grotesquely
huge humanoid with ogre-like features who often dresses like a Victorian era aristocrat,
and will regale his guests with outlandish stories before inevitably eating them. But there was something different about D-87465. After a full month of survival in 082’s
cell, a length of time that had resulted in all the previous test subjects being consumed,
SCP researchers suspected that this D Class’s incredible ability to survive was much more
than just dumb luck, but they needed to test him even more to see if his powers extended
beyond just the ability to survive. D-87465 was removed from regular D Class duties
and researchers began performing various tests on him, watching as he flipped a coin fifty
times in a row, with it coming up heads every single time. Similar results occurred when they had him
roll pairs of dice that would always total up to seven, or when they had him pick random
cards out of a deck and he was able to pull all thirteen hearts in a row. Foundation researchers were now convinced
that this man was more than just lucky, he seemed to possess the ability to create an
unnatural effect on probability, though researchers suspected that he was generating this effect
without being aware of it. At this point, D-87465 was reclassified and
given a new designation - SCP-181. Further testing confirmed that SCP-181 is
able to affect causal probability and that it really does occur through no action of
his own. However there’s more to SCP-181 than simply
being lucky, as researchers soon found out. In an audit of death and injury rates at Bio-Research
Area-12, where SCP-181 is contained, it was discovered that both had increased dramatically
in the time since he was brought there. It seems that SCP-181 doesn’t simply create
his own good luck, he in some way saps it from others simply by being present. It now appears that every lucky moment he
experiences results in the opposite happening to someone else. For every seven he rolls on a pair of dice,
someone else gets snake eyes. And for every death defying escape he makes,
someone else must die. There’s no telling how far his ability might
scale. Could he survive a nuclear blast? And if he did, what would be the result in
order to “even out” the odds so to speak. In light of these new discoveries, SCP-181
was removed from his low level containment cell where he was allowed to occasionally
interact with D Class personnel for entertainment purposes, and was moved to Site-27, where
he was placed in solitary confinement and classified as Safe. All interactions with staff are now limited
to the bare minimum in order to ensure his survival and security, without risking any
events that might result in him “getting lucky.” Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-007 Abdominal Planet, another humanoid SCP that is even stranger
than this one, 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. The SCP Foundation personnel at Area-142 didn’t
understand what was happening. For days, researchers and guards had been
complaining about headaches and nausea. Soon the on-site water purification system
broke down, a researcher experienced multiple organ failures, and the on-site hangar completely
collapsed, causing the deaths of multiple airmen. What was happening at Area-142? Hi! I’m Dr. Bob, and THIS is SCP-1440, also
known as... The Old Man from Nowhere. SCP-1440 has the appearance of a human male
but its ethnicity and age are both unknown. When asked any details about itself, or its
past, including its name, birthdate, or place of birth, SCP-1440 refuses to answer, though
it’s unknown if it is refusing to give this information, or if it simply does not know
the answer to these questions. The aptly nicknamed Old Man from Nowhere appears
to be around eighty years old, but in the fifty years that the SCP Foundation has been
aware of its existence, SCP-1440 has not shown any signs of aging at all, and it has yet
to be determined whether it is aging too slowly for a difference to be perceived in that time
or if it does not age at all, and this is its permanent appearance. But SCP-1440’s lack of aging is not even
the strangest thing about it. It’s true anomalous nature reveals itself
once it comes into contact with a human population or any man-made objects, and remains in contact
with them for more than a few days. After several days of exposure, an acute adverse
effect on anything and everything directly connected to humanity occurs in the vicinity
of SCP-1440. Destructive events begin to happen and grow
increasingly disastrous until the man-made objects are destroyed or the people in close
contact are killed. The only exceptions to these destructive events
are SCP-1440 itself and its few possessions which consist of its clothes, a sack made
of unidentified material, a pack of worn playing cards, and a small glass cup. It's unknown whether these objects are somehow
protected from the destructive anomalous effects or whether they are not actually man-made
items. SCP-1440 seems to be aware of its anomalous
effects on human populations and objects, and appears to attempt to avert destruction
of them by avoiding human contact as much as possible. However, SCP-1440 is for some reason compelled
to travel in what looks like a highly complex pattern, one that always eventually leads
to it running into human populations, whether it wants to or not. The particulars of this pattern, both its
shape and the reason why SCP-1440 feels compelled to follow it, are as of yet unknown. And just like the other details of its origin,
The Old Man from Nowhere has not been able to provide any additional information or help. SCP-1440 has explained that the growing size
of the human population and its expansion into previously uninhabited areas has made
it harder and harder to avoid contact with humanity as it follows its complex pattern
of movement. SCP-1440 is not actively hostile, nor will
it resist or fight back against attempts to contain it. Unfortunately for the SCP Foundation, all
attempts to contain SCP-1440 have so far failed. These containment attempts have led to large
losses of personnel life and Foundation resources as a result of the destructive anomalous effects
that follow SCP-1440. The Old Man from Nowhere first came to the
SCP Foundation’s attention after SCP-1440 itself approached a foundation researcher
who was on her way to work. SCP-1440 somehow knew that this researcher
worked for the Foundation and requested her assistance. When the researcher asked what kind of assistance
it was looking for, it replied that it hoped the foundation would be able to destroy it. It was brought to an SCP Foundation site for
further questioning and study, which is where the destructive anomalous effects were first
witnessed. The entire site was destroyed, killing multiple
site personnel, as well as causing the destruction of six Safe and Euclid-level SCP objects. So far, all other attempts to content SCP-1440
have resulted in similar destructive events. SCP-1440 doesn’t resist the SCP Foundation’s
attempts to contain it. During the fourth such attempt by the Foundation,
SCP-1440 was brought to Area-142. The Old Man from Nowhere applauded the Foundation’s
ongoing efforts, but also expressed that it was for the best that it be allowed to leave,
as the results for the researchers would be the same as the previous three attempts - death
for all involved. SCP-1440 told the researcher interviewing
it that its First Brother had already arrived and was standing behind the researcher. It went on to explain that the brothers are
different, but one and the same. They are all cruel, vengeful, and capable
of holding a grudge for a long time. They are the cause of SCP-1440’s misfortune,
and therefore the cause of anyone who comes into contact with it. It then told the researcher that the Second
Brother had arrived and that time was running short, if it wasn’t released soon then the
destruction would start. The researcher asked about the Third Brother,
and questioned how much time they had since the third had apparently not yet arrived. SCP-1440 explained that the third, despite
being the cruelest of all, never arrives, and that it's actually the appearance of the
last brother that will somehow set The Old Man from Nowhere free. SCP-1440 has spent countless months and years
searching for the Third Brother trying to return something that he won from the other
two. It then made a reference to challenging Death
itself to a game of cards for its life, and that if the researcher is ever in such a situation,
they must not do what The Old Man from Nowhere did… win. At that very moment, the on-site nuclear device
stored at Area-142 detonated despite it having multiple failsafes in place that should have
made such a detonation impossible. Area-142 was destroyed and all on-site personnel
were killed. SCP-1440 was spotted a week later over 3,000
kilometers away from Area-142, showing no signs of having experienced any harm. After three additional containment attempts
were made and all ended in a similarly disastrous fashion, future attempts to contain SCP-1440
have been suspended indefinitely until a suitable containment procedure that doesn’t involve
an unacceptable loss of resources and personnel can be found. Research and analysis of SCP-1440’s travelling
pattern continues, with a focus on minimizing civilian exposure to it, as does research
into a way to hopefully permanently contain it in the future. Unfortunately, SCP-1440’s location is currently
unknown and it has been given the object class Keter. High in the Andes Mountains, two miners chip
away at the rock with their mining picks in search of precious minerals when something
strange happens - they hit an impenetrable wall. As they dust off the unbreakable surface they’ve
reached, they see that it’s a mirrored sheet of some strange metal. They start to break away the rock around it,
revealing more and more of the shiny, metallic surface until it suddenly disappears as if
by magic. Behind it is a chamber, with strange machinery
and a mysterious metallic ball inside. The two miners look at each other in disbelief. What on Earth had they just discovered? Hi! I’m Dr. Bob, and THIS is SCP-163, also known
as... An Old Castaway. The Foundation soon caught word of the bizarre
object that had been unearthed in the Andes Mountains and immediately sent agents to secure
the site. When they arrived, they found the metallic
sphere was still there, though approximately thirty percent of the machinery originally
reported to have been in the chamber had been looted before they could get there. Based on analysis of the rock strata in which
it was found, the chamber appeared to be many, many years old and tests on the minerals present
showed signs of a shock-wave, indicating that whatever this was, it had crash landed into
the mountains. Upon examination of the metallic sphere, the
agents found that it was a kind of machine, and one with a relatively simplistic interface. The agents deactivated the machine and were
met with an amazing discovery. The mirrored ball was actually a kind of shield,
and inside was something incredible - a creature that could only be described as extraterrestrial,
and it was soon to be designated SCP-163. The alien immediately lashed out at the agents,
but they were able to subdue it and transport it back to a Foundation containment site for
further investigation. SCP-163 is like nothing that has even been
seen on this planet. It stands two meters tall and is one and a
half meters wide. Its body is roughly cylindrical with a circular
mouth on its lower body and something that resembles a head on top. It has eight legs, each with three joints
that are arranged radially around the middle of its body. It also has multiple specialized limbs including
two prehensile apparatus on either side of its mouth to assist with feeding, two arms
just below the head area that are capable of finer movement and the delicate manipulation
of objects, two larger arms just above its legs that are used for the manipulation of
heavy objects as well as self defense, and the remains of two appendages also near the
mouth that appear to have been amputated at some point prior to its discovery. Thirty centimeters from the top of SCP-163’s
head is a single semi-compound eye which wraps all the way around its head, giving it complete
360 degree vision. The eye is separated into eighty-eight separate
units and is sensitive to ultraviolet-c light, a short wavelength light that’s harmful
to most life on earth. Its skin is transparent when exposed to the
wavelengths of light that humans can see, but turns opaque under ultraviolet light. The strange properties of SCP-163 don’t
stop with what’s on the outside. Tests of the creature’s green colored blood
have revealed that it processes oxygen and carbon dioxide similar to many creatures on
earth, but its circulatory system is nickel based, as opposed to the iron or copper based
systems used by most terrestrial organisms. It also has an endoskeleton composed of tissue
that’s similar to cellulose, the substance that plant cell walls are made of, and its
cells use DNA for instructions just like human’s cells do with the same ACGT bases, but SCP-163
interprets those instructions differently from the way human cells do. All of these differences mean that SCP-163’s
home environment must be radically different from Earth’s, with different types of proportions
of elements present. Certain elements that are perfectly safe for
humans are dangerous to SCP-163 and vice versa. Tests have shown that while it's able to survive
in our atmosphere unaided, it will begin to show signs of illness after one hour. In order to stay alive, it’s vital that
SCP-163 continues to possess and maintain the universal life support device that was
discovered with it, designated SCP-163-1. The device is able to convert basic chemical
elements into subsistence for 163, as well as projecting the protective metallic shield
that it was found encased in. The other technology recovered from alongside
SCP-163 has yet to be fully understood, though research is ongoing. The technology is surprisingly “low tech”
with much of it consisting of transistors assembled into analog computers with seemingly
varied purposes. The processes these computers appear to be
modelling do not match up with any known scientific processes, and it’s theorized that they
have something to do with 163’s life support. It’s still not known how or if it communicates
complex ideas. When in certain states, it produces a steady
sinusoidal wave at approximately 15 hertz that can last anywhere from 15 seconds to
10 minutes, and personnel that have been exposed to the sound have reported experiencing feelings
of paranoia and are recommended to remain in well-lit conditions until the feeling subsides. SCP-163’s main way of expressing emotion
appears to be with the lump of tissue above its compound eye, and depending on how it
feels, it will furrow its brow in a number of different ways. It has also been shown to display a positive
response to something by rapidly beating its delicate upper arms together, and a negative
response by doing the same with its two powerful lower arms. SCP-163 is to be contained in an enclosure
with rooms for living, dining, work, and sleep, as well as a receiving room with an airlock
and seating that’s appropriate for both 163 and a human researcher. The air in the enclosure is to be filtered
and regularly checked for impurities, and there are two lighting systems, one that produces
light within the human visible spectrum and one producing ultraviolet light. Personnel are to wear isolation suits at all
times when in the enclosure to protect both themselves and SCP-163 from cross contamination. Surprisingly, SCP-163, which has been classified
as safe, is also free to leave its enclosure, provided it don its own isolation suit first
and is escorted by a researcher at all times. A number of experiments have been performed
in an attempt to communicate with SCP-163 as well as determine its level of intelligence. In one test, a number of cards with images
printed on them that depicted various human expressions and emotions were shown to 163. It did not appear to recognize any of them,
but it did hold the eighteenth image shown up over the presiding researcher’s face
plate. In another, it was given a test to see whether
it was capable of selflessness and would offer help if given the chance. A researcher brought two wooden blocks and
a box into 163’s enclosure. The researcher opened the box and placed one
block inside before closing the box. The researcher then tried to place the other
block inside the box, acting as if they were struggling and couldn’t figure out why the
block wouldn’t go inside the closed box. After watching for ten seconds, SCP-163 assisted
the researcher and opened the box, a result consistent with how human children behave
when given the same test. But the most unexpected result of all came
when a researcher brought a canvas, brushes, and a selection of ultraviolet colored paints
to 163’s enclosure. 163 immediately began painting after being
shown how, and soon produced a painting of an alien landscape with never before seen
plants and animals. SCP-163 stared at the painting it had produced
for seven minutes before seeming to become angry, knocking the painting to the floor
and retreating to a corner of its room. It furrowed the tissue on its head indicating
distress and all attempts at communicating with it failed. That is until the researcher tried to remove
the painting supplies, at which point SCP-163 beat its heavy arms together to indicate its
unhappiness. The next day, the researcher brought more
painting supplies and SCP-163 continues to paint imagery of what is presumably its home
alien planet. It’s truly amazing, and lucky, that SCP-163
was discovered. The Foundation is now monitoring all excavations
of rock strata that are of similar age to the one 163 was discovered in. Perhaps one day another extraterrestrial will
be discovered, offering 163 potentially a way home, or at the very least, a friend. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, and be sure to subscribe as we delve further and further into the SCP Foundation’s
classified archives. The young woman looked again at her map, turning
it this way and that, trying to figure out which way she should be going. “Excuse me… sir!” she calls out to a
passing man, but he pays her no mind. A woman walks past and stops when the woman
tries her hand at the local language. “Bud… um… laska.” “Da?” the woman asks her. “Vy… ugh.. Ros… rosmovlyayete… uh… anglijskoyu?” “Net,” the woman replies before continuing
on her way. The young woman feels that this is hopeless. Outside of a few phrases like “hello,”
“goodbye,” and “where is the bathroom?” her local language skills are sorely lacking. She’s still at the beginning of her grand
trip of Europe that saw her starting on the eastern side of the continent with the plan
to travel westward and finish her journey in Paris. She’s traveled a bit before, but here in
this Ukrainian city she’s realizing that she may be out of her comfort zone. This trip is very important to her though. After her parents were killed in a car wreck,
she was paralyzed with grief and barely left her room for months. She decided that she needed to get away and
give herself a clean break from everything back home, and so she decided to do what her
parents had done when they were her age and backpack across Europe. All of the pictures from their trip showed
the two of them together smiling and happy in front of great landmarks, but here she
was, alone, scared, and unable to even find her hostel. “Sir, can you help me!” she cries to another
passing man, waving her map towards him, but he too ignores her pleas. The young woman zips up her jacket. It’s getting late and the setting of the
sun is accompanied by a cold breeze. She looks up and down the city street, and
even though there are still plenty of people around, it feels as though all she can see
are unfriendly faces. Her face lights up when she spots something
though… It's a police officer! He’ll be able to help her. The young woman runs towards the police officer
who is standing near the side of the road. Or at least she thinks he must be a police
officer. His gray uniform looks a little old fashioned,
but it’s neat and well fitting and he’s holding what appears to be a baton used for
directing traffic. The young woman approaches the officer but
his back is to her as he gazes out towards the street. Unsure of what else to do, she reaches out
with some hesitancy and taps the man on the shoulder, causing him to wheel around to face
her. He stares at her without speaking. “Umm… do you speak English?” the young
woman asks. “Yes, little,” he responds in a thick
Ukrainian accent. “Oh thank goodness. You have to help me, please, I’m completely
lost and I don’t know what to do.” As people continue to walk past her without
giving any notice, she goes on to explain that after arriving in the North Eastern Ukrainian
city she took what she thought would be the right bus, but ended up going in the completely
wrong direction. Now she has no idea where she is and is worried
she won’t make it to her hostel before night falls. “Where is your khostel?” the policeman
asks. “Somewhere called the…” she looks down
at the words scribbled on the margins of her map. “The student… the studentskaya,” she
tells him. “Ah yes, yes.” The police officer says. There are many hostels there including some
specifically for foreign visitors and students. She has been very unlucky though, since it
was actually near the metro station she first arrived at. He can help her get there though. There is a bus that will take her straight
there, and the stop is only a few blocks away. He can walk with her there if she likes. The young woman accepts his kind offer and
the two start heading down the sidewalk together. As they walk, he asks what she is doing in
their city and she explains how she just needed to get away and see the world. She’s unsure why, but she feels like she
can confide in this policeman, and she begins to explain what happened to her parents, how
alone she felt at home, and how this trip is meant to be a life reset, but so far it’s
off to a terrible start. “We have a phrase,” he tells her, “Vsegda
mozhet byt' khuzhe” “What does that mean?” she asks. “It can always get worse… this way” The police officer points towards an alleyway
and starts walking towards it. He can tell the young woman is feeling apprehensive
about entering the dark space between the buildings and he assures her that it is a
shortcut, there’s nothing to be afraid of. The two walk into the alley together and the
young woman again starts telling him about her life back in the United States, what she
plans to do when she gets back, how she hopes the trip will be a turning point for her. As she talks, she fails to notice that the
police officer has begun to slow. She does notice though, that the shadow of
the police officer has suddenly started to stretch out on the ground in front of her. She stops and watches as the shadow keeps
moving, growing larger and larger. It stretches and lengthens, even as hers stays
the same. She also realizes that the sound of the policeman’s
footsteps have also stopped. She slowly turns to see it standing in the
place where the police officer should be. A grotesque, horrible sight. A massively tall creature, with long, disgusting
limbs. She’s too scared to scream as she continues
looking up its gigantic body before finally looking at its face, or what’s left of it. Half of its jaw hangs unhinged, as if it has
been torn from its joint, and it has no ears or nose. She trembles in fear as she wonders if whatever
this thing is can see her, since it also has no eyes. The last thing she sees before she turns to
run is the creature lifting up one of its arms, where its hand has been replaced by
a black and white metal rod that it brings down with terrifying speed and crushes her
skull. Pryvit! Today’s file exploration has taken us to
Ukraine, though the anomaly known as SCP-1366-RU has been known to appear in a number of other
countries as well. SCP-1366-RU is a humanoid creature that, from
what the SCP Foundation has been able to observe, appears to be sapient, and resembles a police
officer, or militsiya, from the 1970s Soviet Union. It wears a long, dark gray coat, tall black
leather boots, and a cap, and holds a black and white baton reminiscent of the type used
by police officers in Russia and many Eastern European countries to direct traffic. When an individual begins interacting with
SCP-1366-RU, they will find that they feel as if they are talking to a regular police
officer and having a completely normal conversation. It is capable of exerting a mental influence
over the person speaking with them, allowing it to easily mislead and deceive them, which
explains why they ignore the fact that the officer is wearing a uniform that is several
decades out of date. Those who pass by will not seem to notice
the anachronistic clothing either, and they will pay no mind to what is happening.This
same effect extends to those viewing SCP-1366-RU on a live feed, and it is only when recordings
are viewed, that its true form is revealed. SCP-1366-RU’s actual appearance is that
of a mummified human corpse, though it is taller than any human at over 5 meters in
height, with arms and legs that are disproportionately long, with the legs alone making up two thirds
of its total height. SCP-1366-RU is also extremely skinny, even
for a desiccated cadaver, and its limbs and head look as though they are nothing more
than brown, dry skin stretched directly over bones with no muscle at all underneath. Its left hand appears to be missing, and in
its place the creature has a black and white rod fused directly into its arm. 1366-RU’s face appears as though it has
suffered tremendous injuries. Its eyes, nose, and ears all look as if they
have been removed from its face, and the left half of its lower jaw hangs freely in its
joint as though it were torn away. Despite this damage to its face, it is still
quite capable of speech, at least when people are perceiving it in its human form. It’s currently unknown why, but SCP-1366-RU
appears to be primarily interested in kidnapping and killing people who are in countries that
once belonged to the former Soviet Union. So far there has been no commonalities between
the victims except for one thing, all of their parents were dead at the time of their abduction. Once the Foundation realized this uniting
factor, they were able to create a scenario in which the anomaly appeared, though so far
this has only been successful one time. Foundation researchers located a member of
Class D personnel who was an orphan, D-1935, and equipped them with a radio headset, a
video camera, and a microphone, and instructed them to walk the streets of a city located
in a country which was once part of the USSR. The D-Class was observed on location by members
of MTF Eta-10 nicknamed "See No Evil" and they watched as D-1935 suddenly stopped on
the sidewalk. He was approached by a police officer with
an out of date uniform who saluted the D-Class with his right hand. Eta-10, appeared to not see the police officer
and reminded the D-Class to stay sharp and continue looking for 1366-RU. The police officer spoke to the D-Class, though
only in mumbled, broken words, as if something had rendered him unable to speak. The recording equipment captured the D-Class
seeming to have a one sided conversation with the policeman, where he insisted that he wasn’t
lost, and that he was actually out walking with his mother. Or rather, he thought he was out with his
mother. It seemed to the D-Class that she had just
left, and he requested the police officers help in finding her again. The officer then took the D-Class’s hand
and began leading him away, eventually taking him into a dark alley. All the while Eta-10 seemed completely oblivious
to what was going on. They didn’t even realize that D-1935 had
left until the two disappeared into the alleyway. They began searching the area but they were
unable to locate the D-Class anywhere. It was as if he had been there one moment
and then simply disappeared. Luckily, D-1935 had also been equipped with
a GPS tracking beacon. But when Eta-10 looked at their locator, they
were convinced something was wrong, since it showed that the D-Class was now over 5,000
kilometers away. A nearby containment team was sent to the
location being broadcast from D-1935’s tracker, and they arrived roughly two hours after his
disappearance. When they got to the location, they discovered
that it was coming from a very strange place… a cemetery. The team cautiously entered the cemetery and
began making their way in the direction of the beacon, unaware of what they would find. When the GPS locator finally signalled that
they were in the correct position, they realized that they were standing directly over a grave,
specifically, a grave belonging to the mother of D-1935, who had been dead for over 50 years. There was no question though, this was the
location the beacon was broadcasting from, and after receiving permission from the Foundation,
the containment team began to dig. When the coffin was finally revealed, the
team readied their weapons, unsure of what they might find inside, but when they opened
its lid, they saw that their guns weren’t necessary. All that was found within was the mummified
body of a woman… that and the body of D-1935, who was curled up in the fetal position, tightly
hugging the remains of his mother. Following this event, the parents of other
suspected SCP-1366-RU victims were exhumed as well, and in each case, the missing person’s
body was found inside alongside their deceased mother or father. SCP-1366-RU, which has been given the nickname
Uncle Styopa, a play on a popular Russian’s children character who is an extremely tall
policeman, has so far eluded all containment attempts, and it has been classified as Euclid. Disappearances of those without living parents
in former Soviet Union countries should be investigated to determine the involvement
of SCP-1366-RU. Any recording devices in the area where they
disappeared must be checked and should they contain any images of SCP-1366-RU’s true
form, then they are to be immediately confiscated and destroyed. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-1098-RU - The Theater of Living Puppets, for another anomaly from
the Russian SCP Foundation. 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. It started with a woman. We’ll call her Valerie - It doesn’t matter
whether or not that it’s her real name, since her real name is lost, even to herself. Valerie was a young woman but what many would
describe as a very old soul. She’d been to strange places, seen awful
things, and gotten in touch with some dangerous people. Like a lot of people with hard lives, Valerie
tried to find relief wherever she could: Partying, gambling, buying herself expensive things. After all, she was here for a good time, not
a long time, and she wanted to eke out any pleasure she could while she was still able. That’s how she ended up in the high roller’s
section of a very exclusive private club in New York City. They had the finest drinks, the most attentive
waitstaff, and the strangest entertainment. But that’s the kind of exceptional service
you can expect from a club run by one of the most powerful and influential clandestine
enterprises in the world: Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. Valerie had no idea who the club’s owner
was though. She had come here with a wealthy friend, well
calling them a friend might be pushing it… she was here with someone she had met earlier
that night, but now as she sipped her drink and played another hand of blackjack, she
realized that he was nowhere to be seen. Oh well. She didn’t have anybody to please but herself,
and the clubs of Marshall, Carter, and Dark can provide plenty of pleasure… As long as you can pay. Valerie’s problem was that she didn’t
have the money to keep living large off of their largesse, and she was about to get a
rude awakening as to just how much these mysterious businessmen value their bottom line. If she took a second to think about it, she
may have noticed she was out of place among the rest of the clientele - wealthy businessmen
and shady moguls in fine suits. What was a girl like her doing in a place
like this? Unless, of course, she was here to fulfill
another purpose entirely. Eventually, a bill was presented to Valerie. “Oh this isn’t for me,” she told the
waiter, “my friend is taking care of everything.” When she went to motion towards the wealthy
man who had brought her here, she realized that he was nowhere to be seen. “I’m afraid the gentleman I believe you’re
referring to left some time ago,” the waiter told her. Valerie was disappointed, but this kind of
thing had happened to her before. She reached for her purse, it looked like
she’d be paying for herself that night. “Alright, how much do I owe you?” she said as she grabbed a handful of chips
from her stack. “I’m afraid you might be a little confused,”
the waiter told her, eying what at most could be a couple hundred dollars in casino chips. “Are you not aware of what you’re drinking?” Valerie glanced at the bottle of champagne
sitting next to her. And then at the two other identical empty
bottles sitting next to it. “It’s the champagne he ordered,” Valerie
answered. “Yes,” said the waiter, but that isn’t
just any champagne.” Valerie’s eyes began to grow wide as he
went on. “Those are from a very rare, and very expensive
vintage. “How rare?” Valerie nervously asked. “Extremely rare,” the waiter told her. “Each bottle you were drinking cost…” It felt like the room suddenly filled with
rushing water. The edges of her vision dimmed as a roar filled
her ears, as she heard the last thing the waiter said - each bottle she had drank cost
$20,000. When Valerie regained her senses she was being
escorted by a group of tall gentlemen in dark business suits into a soundproof back room,
where they explained the severity of her situation. As the fear continued to set in, she started
to beg. She said that if they just gave her a little
more time, she could earn back the money she owed them. The solemn-faced representative explained
to her that Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. doesn’t operate like that. However, there would be other ways that she
could pay back her debt to them, but it would be their way. They gave a brief explanation that providing
luxury private clubs to an esteemed clientele was only one part of their enterprise. The other side of their business was even
more exclusive: An auction house, where truly unique products are sold to the highest bidders. And come to think of it, there was a hole
in the market that seemed to be just Valerie’s size. All they asked for was for her to spend a
period of time in their service, and when the debt was repaid, her life would be hers
once more. And there was more to it as well. Although she would have to work for them,
time would not actually pass for her during her service. She’d get to keep her youth, it would be
as if she never worked for them at all, a blink of an eye and she’d be right back
where she was. Valerie took just a moment to consider it. She wasn’t sure she believed what these
men were telling her, but she’d heard and seen some very strange things in her life,
was this really so hard to believe? And after all, what choice did she have? She didn’t have $60,000. So she agreed to repay her debt to Marshall,
Carter, and Dark, and do whatever that entailed. The representatives assured her that all she’d
need to do is lay back and relax: They’d take care of the rest. Valerie didn’t remember much after that
moment, but she awoke in the dark. She couldn’t move any part of her body other
than her eyes. The next time she saw the light, she remembered
being up on stage, looking down at a crowd of people wielding auction paddles while an
animated auctioneer reeled off the many advantages of some product she couldn’t see. Certain words and phrases stuck out: “Fully articulated and posable… Warm to the touch… Not a blemish on her… Never talks back… She’ll always look you right in the eye…” Eventually, someone won, and she was placed
back in the darkness. Years went by, being taken in and out of the
dark by strangers, wearing different clothes and being referred to by different names. Moving only when she was permitted. Little by little, she forgot the person that
she once was. One day ran into the next. It all became a blur of darkness punctuated
by brief flashes of light. Years turned into decades. She never said a word. She forgot what it even felt like to be able
to speak. But then one day, out of the darkness appeared
a pair of strangers in black tactical gear who looked at her with an expression somewhere
in between pity and disgust. From that moment on, she finally found a new
name to replace that empty void. Now, she was SCP-446. The files on SCP-446 are as mysterious as
they are deeply disconcerting and we can only speculate as to the exact process that led
to the creation of SCP-446, since the duplicitous salesmen at Marshall, Carter, & Dark Ltd.
don’t seem eager to share their secrets with anyone outside of their organization. But what SCP Foundation researchers have learned
from solid, empirical observation is that SCP-446 is a humanoid mannequin 1.75 meters
tall and weighing 52.16 kilograms. She is - or perhaps, was - a pale-skinned
Caucasian woman who appears to be in her early twenties. She has brown hair that measures 17.78 cm
at its longest point, brilliant, bright blue eyes, and the distinctive Marshall, Carter,
& Dark Ltd. logo tattooed on her lower back. In many ways, she has all the hallmarks of
a living human being - She’s superficially anatomically correct, with realistic skin
tone and texture, eye coloration and sclera clarity, and researchers who’ve dealt with
her directly claim that she has the warmth of a real human being. Despite seeming to be alive though, SCP-446
doesn’t respond to verbal communication, has no pulse or heartbeat, and doesn’t even
appear to breathe. Whether SCP-446 can truly be considered alive
is still an open question among Foundation researchers. SCP-446 is stored in the same hinged metal
box she was found in, which is plain save for a series of clothing measurements for
those wishing to purchase their own custom accessories. When Foundation field agents first discovered
her, they attempted to sit her up. However, what they found was that she responded
to their touch, sitting up on her own. All it took to get her to lay back down was
a gentle push on her shoulders from the front. Through further study, it was discovered that
selective touch cues can induce different types of movement in SCP-446. She could be induced to stand up on her own,
and through gentle pressure applied to the top of the head, she could be induced to sit
or lay back down on her own. You may have also noticed the somewhat uncanny
quality of SCP-446’s eyes. Please don’t be alarmed, it isn’t anything
out of the ordinary. Her eyes will follow the nearest person to
her around the room, and she’ll try to make eye contact if possible. Don’t let it bother you. Everyone gets used to it eventually. Her limbs can also be posed and manipulated
as required, even into positions requiring balance, like standing on one leg. However, if pushed over, she will immediately
lose balance and fall. It seems almost as though her actions are
defined as much by the toucher’s intent as the touch itself. Essentially out of any more ways to learn
about SCP-446, an in-depth medical examination was authorized. Given the humanoid nature of 446, the doctor
conducting the examination decided to proceed in a manner similar to the kinds of autopsies
given to non-anomalous human corpses. The doctor noted being disturbed by the fact
that 446’s eyes kept following them, even as they prepared the tools for the autopsy. They also remarked on the almost freakish
clearness of the subject’s skin. There wasn’t a single detectable mark or
blemish, almost like a porcelain doll. There was no rigor or livor mortis, nor any
signs of damage or injury to the body. Examination of the mouth revealed an obstruction
at the top of the throat - A metal plate fixed to the back of her mouth, bonded to the flesh
on all sides. The plate shifts slightly when touched, but
couldn’t be removed. Similar plates had been installed in the ear
canals, nostrils, and all other body orifices, as if to ensure that nothing can enter or
exit 446’s body. The doctor then moved on to the internal examination
of SCP-446, beginning with a number of x-rays. These revealed several irregularly-shaped
masses inside 446’s body, covering major organs such as the heart, brain, kidneys,
and liver. Dissection revealed these masses to be boxes
of various shapes and sizes, constructed from the same metal that comprises the obstructive
plates. These boxes are connected to the corresponding
organs through a series of wires and tubes. The doctor notes that neither their scalpel
nor their wire saw could cause any meaningful damage to the boxes and that it’s possible
the boxes not only keep the body preserved but also allow for its limited set of movements. Certain barriers presented themselves during
the dissection process, both physical and psychological. SCP-446 exhibited an extraordinary healing
factor, fully repairing her own skin minutes after having her chest fully opened in a Y-incision. This made sustained internal observation difficult,
and the doctor declined to perform any more extensive mutilations for fear that the damage
would be irreparable. This limited the progress that could be made
in the procedures overall. However, it wasn’t the worst thing to occur
during the dissection. The doctor noted that SCP-446 stared at them
the entire time while they were making incisions into the body, making them extremely uncomfortable. And during the several-minute healing process
of the Y-Incision in her chest, SCP-446’s mouth moved, as if speaking silently, the
entire time. The doctor left a note that this may suggest
a level of sapience in 446, though nothing could be proved conclusively on that front. The file for SCP-446 is a relatively sparse
one, given the minimal containment requirements of the anomaly. Between studies, she is simply kept in her
box. There has, however, been one notable incident
involving SCP-446, documented by Foundation researcher Dr. Sunderland back in 2010. The event, labeled Incident 446-1, took place
in Storage Room 6. In the interest of preserving the anomaly’s
modesty, she was dressed in a standard D-Class uniform before being placed back into her
box for the night. A guard reported a strange thumping noise
later that evening, and investigated himself and found it was coming from the inside of
SCP-446’s box. Dr. Sunderland was called in at this point
and oversaw the opening of the box. It turned out that SCP-446 was repeatedly
attempting to rise to a sitting pose inside the box and was banging her head against the
lid. Finally freed, SCP-446 rose to her feet of
her own volition for the first time since the start of her containment. She assumed a strange pose: Her head bowed
and her wrists touching above her head, as though her hands were bound at the wrists,
or she was desperately praying or begging. Her facial expression also shifted for the
first time, taking on a look of sadness and fear. Dr. Sunderland was able to make SCP-446 return
to a more neutral standing position, but nothing could make her permanently assume the laying
position again until the D-Class uniform was once again removed. There is still not a confirmed explanation
as to why exactly this happened, but the answers may be too horrible to even consider. For this particular anomaly, which has been
given the Safe Class designation, perhaps the kindest thing to do is leave her in the
box - That’s at least a more humane fate than whatever Marshall, Carter, and Dark had
planned. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-054 the Water Nymph, for another SCP that the Foundation has gone
to great lengths to try and better understand, 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. The old house sits, crooked and dilapidated,
on the very end of the last street in town. It’s the kind of house that children share
stories about and warn each other to stay away from. There isn’t even any graffiti on it, rare
for an abandoned building in this town, but nobody is brave enough to get close to it
and risk their life, if the rumors of its history are to be believed. A black van containing four men pulls up along
the curb outside the house. One of them has been black-bagged, zip ties
cutting into the skin of his wrists. He was leaving a bar in town, when suddenly
he found the barrel of a 9MM semiautomatic pistol looking him in the eye, held by a man
with every reason to pull the trigger. Two other men had then emerged from the dark
behind him. There was a brief feeling of cold metal against
his skin as the twin metal barbs of the stun gun were jammed into the man’s neck. His body then began to convulse as 50,000
volts of electricity ran through his body, and when he was finally able to open his eyes
again, there was only darkness. The back doors of the van swing open, and
the unfortunate man is pulled out by two of his captors. The driver joins to help drag the man down
the gravel pathway up to the deserted house’s front door. In his desperation, he offers any excuse he
thinks might save him. “Please, I just need a little more time… I can get the money, I swear… I’ve got another job lined up, honest, I
start on Monday… Just a little longer, I’m begging you…” All he receives is silence as he’s taken
into the old house. There’s no pleading, begging cliche that
they haven’t heard before. They’ve learned to just tune it out and
get the job done. Click, Click, Click. The three men turn on their flashlights. The electricity hasn’t been on in the uninhabited
house for years. It’s the domain of rats, roaches, and spiders
now, the only evidence of life being the network of spiderwebs in every corner and the faint
chittering sound of… something coming from behind faded wallpaper. The only reason anyone would ever choose to
come here is when you needed to do something under the absolute cover of dark, which is
exactly what they needed to do. The dark suited men drop their weeping prisoner
to the ground. He tries again to plead with them and receives
a hard kick in the gut. It knocks the breath out of the man and he
is left wheezing in quiet pain, no longer able to speak. One of them finally pulls the dark bag from
his head. His nose is bleeding; his eyes are equal parts
bleary and afraid, like he only half-understands his circumstances. What he does understand though, is that it’s
looking increasingly unlikely that he’ll be leaving this house tonight. The three men look down at the pathetic figure
huddled on the floorboards. None of them really want to be here, but this
is the job they’ve been paid to do. They are unaware though, that they aren’t
the only ones watching. Somewhere in the dark is someone else, who
watches them with a detached, almost amused curiosity. Taking in the deep, dark of the house, one
of the men wonders aloud whether it might be haunted. The man with the gun laughs as he pulls back
the hammer on his gun and tells him that there’s about to be one more ghost here. But just as he is about to pull the trigger
and put an end to their captor’s terrified blubbering, he suddenly hears something that
gives him pause. Something from above them, upstairs. Is he imagining it, or are those particles
of dust floating down from the ceiling, accompanied by the sound of footsteps? All of the men clearly hear it, and the three
look around, shining their flashlights into the dark corners of the room. The one holding the man at gunpoint motions
to one of the others to go check upstairs. He looks like he’d rather do anything else,
but when the man with the gun, who is clearly the one in charge, turns and points his gun
at him instead, the man finally concedes that he’ll go check it out. He draws a gun of his own from inside his
pocket and starts making his way up the creaking stairs to the second floor of the house. The leader’s mind is still on whatever’s
upstairs. His dumb lackey tried filling his head with
all those goofy ghost stories, but he knows, deep down, it’s probably just a raccoon
or something. When his driver has ensured there are no other
witnesses, he’ll finish the job, and they can all get out of this creepy dump. He calls up to the driver and asks him if
he sees anything up there. “Nothing,” he calls down. “I think we’re-” His words are cut off by his own sudden scream. There are two gunshots, followed by a loud
thump as something heavy hits the ground. The two men, both with guns out, crouch down
in defensive poses. They call out again, asking what’s happening
but they’re only met with cold, unforgiving silence. Everyone is on high alert now. Even the bound man is now more afraid of whatever’s
upstairs than the men who brought him here. Nobody dares move as, after what feels like
minutes of silence, the footsteps resume upstairs again. The leader calls out again, asking what’s
going on. Still no reply. Just more footsteps. They follow the sound across the floor above
them to the stairs, then listen as the steps start to creak again. Their eyes drift over where they see… nothing. Are they going insane? The two hired guns share a panicked glance,
as if to say, what do we do now? But neither has an answer. A quiet, reedy whisper suddenly echoes through
the stale air of the house. With what sounds like a female voice, it rasps,
“What are you doing in my house?” The remaining lackey, consumed by panic, begins
firing wildly into the dark. The captive and the leader both get as close
as they can to the floor as bullets fly through the air, piercing the old, wooden walls causing
roaches alike to scatter. Soon enough, the bullets are gone, replaced
with only the feeble click, click, click of his dry firing. “What is going on in here?” he thinks,
“this place really is haunted.” Before another fearful thought can cross his
mind, a lamp comes flying at him out of the darkness, shattering into pieces of skin-carving
ceramic against his face. Next comes a book, then an old, heavy phone,
and then a dusty, old brick that strikes his skull with a monstrous crunch. He drops to his knees, bleeding from both
nostrils and the deep gash cut into his forehead, before flopping facedown onto the floor. He’ll be lucky if he ever wakes up. Only the leader and his prisoner are left
now, both confused, both afraid, both seemingly beset by a poltergeist. Suddenly, the leader feels a hot breath on
his neck, and a whisper right into his ear. “You shouldn’t have come here…” it
hisses. He turns, screams, and fires once into the
dark. Nothing. A strange, tinny giggle suddenly loops around
him. It’s everywhere and nowhere. He can hear footsteps, but where are they
coming from? They’re simultaneously getting further,
and getting closer-- An unseen fist collides with his jaw, harder
than he’s been hit in a long time. He stumbles, looking around for the assailant,
panting like a prizefighter in the championship rounds. But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing-- Crack! It strikes the other side of his face. Another giggle from the dark. He spits a tooth out as his mouth bleeds. Not knowing what else to do, he extends his
arm and fires desperately. Maybe he’ll get lucky. Or maybe not. A force wraps itself around his extended arm
and pulls on it with a sudden, immense pressure. It snaps before he has the chance to scream,
his arm bending at the joint in the wrong direction. He lets out an agonized cry as he drops his
gun to the ground. But that scream is cut off when he takes a
punch to the solar plexus, sapping the wind from him as he spews out a thin mist of blood
the settles onto the shape of… a woman’s face, staring right at him, grinning. His terror and pain overcome him. His mind snaps and he faints from panic, collapsing
to the ground in a heap. His jacket opens as invisible fingers work
a handkerchief from an inside pocket and wipe the blood from the floating face, leaving
only a floating, bloody handkerchief. The man on the ground, the one who was brought
here against his will, watches astonished and speechless, as the handkerchief flutters
down to the ground. All he can do is stare in amazement as the
leader’s arm flops limply upright, as the gold watch around his wrist unclasps itself
and floats into the air and then, with a strange gulping noise, disappears entirely. Footsteps creak across the ground, the front
door opens, then closes again, leaving the terrified man in silence, lying on the floor
between two bodies. After a time, he finally gains the courage
to stand up. He creeps nervously towards the front door
and opens it. There’s no one outside, not that he could
see whatever assailant just took out the group of men anyway. With one last look back into the dark house
he steps out and closes the door behind him. He’s free, and no matter how hard he tries,
he will never understand the true nature of the invisible specter that just saved his
life. But while none of the men will never know
what they encountered that night, the SCP Foundation certainly does, because these are
the kind of antics you can expect from SCP-347, also known by the somewhat obvious nickname
of… The Invisible Woman, but she has another name,
her own self-chosen epithet… Claudia. Foundation staff are currently unsure whether
this is the “real” name of the SCP-347 entity, or a pseudonymized reference to Claude
Rains, the English actor who portrayed Dr. Jack Griffin in the 1933 film “The Invisible
Man.” Of course, nothing is really as it seems when
it comes to this particular anomaly. Though it’s easy to be more than what meets
the eye when nothing meets the eye at all… Claudia - as I will refer to her both out
of respect for her chosen name as well as for the sake of simplicity - is 164 centimeters
in height and 55 kilograms in weight. And That’s really all that is known for
sure about her, because her primary anomalous trait is, of course, that she is completely
and utterly invisible. Although she seems to possess them like an
average human, all parts of her body including blood and hair will remain invisible, even
if removed from her body. It seems that only saliva and bodily waste
become visible when separated from her body - as a number of disgruntled, mop-and-bucket-wielding
D-Classes are more than aware. Claudia is able to see through what also be
anomalous means, since in typical humans, the cones and rods of the eyes must be visible
for them to receive light and thus see. Research is ongoing as to how exactly this
is possible, as well as what it could potentially provide for active camouflage technology. By her own description - which, due to her
skittish and crafty personality, must be taken with a grain of salt - Claudia is a mixed-race
woman between the ages of 19 and 25, with brown eyes and wavy black hair. She appears to have no anomalous traits other
than her invisibility, no super strength or speed, no ability to fly. However what she does have, is a very particular
set of skills. Skills that make her a nightmare to anyone
wishing to keep her under lock and key - like for example, the SCP Foundation. The Foundation quickly learned that Claudia
is an accomplished escape and infiltration artist, with the lockpicking skills of a veteran
thief. She’s able to move while making very little
noise, which complements her natural stealth advantages perfectly, allowing her to get
in and out of secured areas easily. These are skills she’s developed not only
to survive, but to support certain psychological dependencies she suffers from. While Foundation psychologists have posited
a number of mental conditions that could be affecting Claudia, two seem to have risen
to prominence: Kleptomania and Pica. Claudia appears to be compulsively driven
to steal as a kind of psychological crutch. Being invisible, naturally, makes her an impeccable
thief, however, when she has obtained the item of her desire, said item floating through
the air is likely to draw unwanted attention. That is where her second strange habit comes
in. Pica is an eating disorder that causes sufferers
to consume items that are not food, sometimes damaging themselves in the process. Claudia has developed the unhealthy habit
of swallowing some of the smaller items she steals, causing them to seemingly disappear,
until she later vomits the items back up. When interviewed on the matter, Claudia stated
that she’d gotten the idea from watching Stevie Starr perform on a late-night television
show. Starr is a Scottish performer known for his
ability to swallow and regurgitate items - Though Starr’s ability doesn’t extend far enough
to meet the Foundation’s threshold for anomalous. Before she was brought into containment, Claudia
had a preference for abandoned houses. The home where Foundation Agents finally discovered
her was one with a long history of reported poltergeist activity. As is standard in instances where spectral
phenomena were suspected, the Foundation moved in with infrared cameras, allowing them to
quickly detect the humanoid shape of Claudia and move in to intercept her. Without the advantage of her invisibility,
she had no chance of either evading or besting trained Foundation operatives in combat. Thankfully, it didn’t need to come to that
and after a brief period of deliberation, Claudia gave herself up to the Foundation
willingly in exchange for shelter and warm meals, both of which would be provided for
her in containment. Prior to this, it’s believed that she was
effectively homeless for years, and had been making ends meet in any way she could. She refuses to discuss her past directly,
though a long string of “ghost activity” across the area and at least two deaths have
been solidly linked to her activities. Being unseen for years of her life has taken
an undeniable mental toll on Claudia, the isolation leading to instability and even
violent outbursts on occasion. Thankfully, she has responded well to treatment
from Foundation counselors and psychiatrists, which has reduced the frequency of these violent
outbursts significantly. As she recovers further from her traumatic
past, there is hope that Claudia may even begin to recover from her kleptomaniac tendencies
altogether, allowing her to live a normal, well-adjusted life. Or as much as one can hope to live while still
remaining invisible. There’s even more good news though. Since entering containment and undergoing
recovery, Claudia has become much more social. She enjoys interacting with other people,
especially when they treat her as though she’s an average person, and some of her actions
have even been described as bordering on flirtatious. She enjoys interacting physically with people,
and often plays impish pranks on the unsuspecting people sent into her chamber - Such as rearranging
or taking items to confuse them. She also shows for unknown reasons a particular
fondness for interacting with people as they sleep, often touching and stroking them, though
it may have been one of the only ways she was able to have human contact prior to entering
Foundation custody. While she describes this as feeling “right”,
those who experience it from the other side describe it as feeling “unnerving”, as
though they’ve been touched by a ghost. Naturally, due to being an intelligent escape
artist that is impossible to see through conventional means, Foundation Containment Specialists
have needed to go all out on her containment measures - Both to keep her contained and
to keep her comfortable enough that she has no desire to attempt a containment breach. She is kept in a 5m x 5m room in Site 17,
constantly monitored by a remote infrared camera, and in addition to infrared detection
systems, Claudia is also visible in ultraviolet light, expanding the Foundation’s means
of seeing her. Her room has an en suite bathroom with a shower
and bathtub, and is furnished with a queen-sized bed, several oversized bean bag chairs, two
armchairs, a desk and swivel chair, several bookcases, and a TV with a DVD player. The bookcases are filled with various books,
primarily adventure novels, harlequin romances, and art books. She is allowed DVDs of various movies and
TV shows predating her arrival at the SCP facility and may request new material to be
reviewed every so often. Claudia is given access to any clothes she
pleases, though she often prefers to remain unclothed to take advantage of her full invisibility. She does, on occasion, wear wigs and makeup
for her own amusement. Her room must remain locked at all times when
she is inside it, and two guards are required to check the door for any signs of tampering
every hour. The door is only unlocked to allow staff members
in and out of the containment chamber for the purposes of research and enrichment. Claudia enjoys chatting with staff members
who bring her food, though said staff members are discouraged from forming attachments that
are too close to Claudia, as it may allow her to manipulate them into helping her escape
or gain special privileges. On the rare occasions when Claudia is allowed
to leave the room, she is mandated to wear gloves and a layer of greasepaint over her
face to give personnel awareness of her hands and facial expressions. If she does attempt violent action or escape,
she must be apprehended immediately and placed back into her room. In the event of an escape, infrared goggles
will be distributed to all personnel, and any strange phenomena around Site 17 will
be reported. Thankfully, escape attempts are quite infrequent,
and while she currently has the Euclid Object Class, pending further therapy, her containment
class may be upgraded to Safe Class. Of course, the Foundation keeps any containment
breaches close to the chest, and if there was a recent containment breach, you’d have
no way of knowing. For all you know, she could be watching you
right now. So sleep tight, and if you feel someone stroking
your hair in the night, be sure to check up on your valuables in the morning. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-181 - Lucky, for another humanoid anomaly with unique powers. 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. You’re on your way home from work after
having just finished working a double shift. It’s late and the interstate is completely
abandoned, no cars visible either in front or behind you. It’s only about a twenty minute drive but
you know you’re going to struggle to stay awake, even in this old beater that shakes
and rattles as it travels down the long, straight road. The rattling causes a piece of tape to fall
off of the gauge cluster, revealing a lit “check engine” light beneath. You grab the tape and put it back over the
light, covering it once again. There, good as new. You turn on the radio and it comes to life
for just a moment before dying. You slap the radio and it blinks to life for
just a second before dying again. You’re about to slap it again when you notice
lights in your rearview mirror. And more than just a pair of headlights, it’s
a whole wall of lights. They’re getting closer and quickly too. Before you know it, they look like they’re
barreling down on you. But then, they suddenly go black, blinking
out of existence. “Did that trucker just turn off his lights?” you think but you have no time to dwell on the thought because the sound of an explosion
suddenly causes you to scream in fright. It sounds like lightning has struck just inches
from your car. The inside of your car suddenly lights up
with fire and smoke. Has your engine exploded? What’s going on? No, it’s not coming from you, it’s coming
from… next to you. You don’t know where it appeared from, but
next to your car is now a massive semi. At least you think it was a semi. The smoke is so thick it makes you cough and
you quickly can’t see. You lose control of the car and slam on the
brakes, but you can feel yourself going off the road. As the smoke finally clears up inside of your
car you can see… the moon. It’s at this moment that you realize you’re
no longer right side up as the car flips and tumbles through the air. You open your eyes to find that you’re still
buckled into your seat. You release the seat belt and drop to the
roof of the car. You crawl out to find that your car slid to
a stop, upside down, several meters from the road. You look around, and far off in the distance
you can see it, the semi that ran you off the road, driving at an almost impossible
rate of speed off into the night. You look back at your car, which is completely
totaled, and wonder what you’re going to do now. It’s late the next morning when you finally
get back home. The police did not seem to believe your story
about the magically appearing semi-truck causing your single car accident, but they did at
least give you a ride back home after administering a sobriety test. You enter your small studio apartment and
look around at the sparsely decorated room, wondering how you’re going to pay rent next
month if you can’t get to your job. You go to the fridge and open the door, but
there’s nothing inside except for a carton of milk that’s well past its expiration
date. You open it and take a whiff but this is too
far gone even for your state of desperation. You close the fridge and lean on the door,
trying to figure out what you’re going to do. You’re so deep in thought that you barely
notice the mail being pushed through the slot in your door. You decide to go pick it up, even though you
know it will only be bad news. And you were right, bills, bills, and more
bills. First, second, and final notices. You wonder if you’ve ever had a piece of
good news show up through that slot in your door. What’s this though? The last piece of mail is a battered and folded
envelope that looks like it’s been used and repurposed many times. It feels thick and heavy, but there’s no
information on it at all, it’s completely blank. You open the envelope and your eyes light
up. Inside… is money. It’s a stack of crinkled, old bills, different
denominations all in a random order, but there’s a lot of them. There must be over a thousand dollars here! And there’s something else too. A note. You unfold the creased and dirty piece of
paper to see a simple message that looks like it was hastily written in black crayon. All the note says is “SORRY BOUT LAST NIGHT!! HOPE THIS HELPS COMPADRE.” You flip the note over and look in the envelope
again but there’s nothing else other than the wad of cash. The apology note may have been unsigned, but
you weren’t the first to receive something like it, and you would be far from the last. The SCP Foundation, though, knows exactly
who sent it. This was a message from SCP-3899, also known
as… The Night Hauler. SCP-3899 is a black, Peterbilt 379 semi-trailer
truck with an attached trailer. But as you no doubt have determined, this
is no ordinary truck. SCP-3899 has the anomalous effect of appearing
seemingly at random, upon stretches of highway within the continental United States and usually
at a considerable distance away from any other motorists. The truck will manifest already in motion,
traveling within roughly three kilometers per hour of the posted speed limit, but it
will not stay at this speed. Once SCP-3899 has appeared, it will almost
immediately begin accelerating, and the speeds it can reach are truly staggering. Despite appearing to be a normal truck, SCP-3899
is able to reach impossibly fast speeds, and it’s been observed traveling at over 420
kilometers per hour, or 267 miles per hour. As SCP-3899 flies down the road, it will attempt
to avoid other vehicles and roadside objects, and has even shown the ability to displace
itself across short distances, which it seems to mostly do in order to avoid collisions
with vehicles. SCP-3899 will disappear and then immediately
appear somewhere else, though always within 300 meters of its last location. This reappearance will be accompanied by a
thick cloud of dense, black smoke that lab tests have revealed to consist of a mixture
of diesel fuel combustion byproducts, volcanic ash, and trace amounts of unidentified human
blood. The anomalous truck will only appear at night,
and will demanifest completely once it encounters direct sunlight… or if it causes an automotive
accident, which it has done plenty of times. In one particular incident, undercover SCP
Foundation agents working within the Virginia State Department of Transportation became
aware of reports of a large black truck appearing on a particular stretch of interstate that
had caused multiple accidents. They were able to track down and locate one
of the victims of these incidents, a woman named Martha Lewis, who they soon brought
in for questioning under the guise of it being a police investigation. The agents questioned Martha on her experience,
and she explained her own interaction with the black, semi. She said: “It's all still clear in my head. I'm driving down I-64 on my way home and the
sun had just gone down. There's no other cars and I’m about to take
my exit, when out of nowhere this huge truck just… appears, right next to me. There was a bunch of smoke, like it was on
fire or something, and the sound was like a bolt of lightning had just struck right
next to me. It all happened so fast. All the smoke clouded my windshield and before
I could really process what was happening, I was plowing right through a concrete divider
and into some trees. I think I passed out. When I came to, there were paramedics and
cops. They took me to the hospital.” The agents asked if anything happened after
that and she said there was one other odd thing. When she left the hospital and went home there
was a letter waiting for her, but it didn’t have a return address. Inside was a large amount of US currency in
a random assortment of denominations, with many of the bills appearing wrinkled and worn. There was a note in the envelope too which
read: IM SORRY. DIDNT MEAN NO HARM. FOR THE DAMAGES. GET Y'ALL A NEW RIG AND DRIVE ON!!! Later Foundation analysis of the document
revealed that the note was written with a piece of charcoal on non-anomalous notebook
paper. Now you’re probably asking yourself the
same question that SCP researchers had. Just who is the driver of SCP-3899 that apparently
wrote this odd note and also paid for the damages they caused. The operator of the truck, which has been
designated as SCP-3899-1, is a very mysterious figure. Observers who have been able to get a brief
glimpse inside of the truck as it moves past them at a rapid speed have described the driver
as looking only like a silhouette of a slightly overweight male wearing the type of headwear
that is typically referred to as a “trucker hat.” Some reports have also alluded to the presence
of what appears to be smoky, tentacle-like appendages within the cab, though all further
efforts to determine the exact physical characteristics of 3899-1 have failed, as the truck has proved
resistant to any kind of outside scanning equipment. Most of what is known about the driver has
come in the form of direct communication, though not in the form of interviews or any
other sort of face to face interaction. No, while SCP-3899-1 has never been willing
to stop and have a discussion with Foundation agents, it does seem more than willing to
speak with anyone and everyone in its immediate vicinity over Citizens band, or CB radio,
which is a type of shortwave person to person communication system that is popular with
many long haul truckers. In one particular instance, an SCP Foundation
helicopter happened to be traveling above a stretch of road where SCP-3899 appeared. An agent within the helicopter began communicating
with the anomalous trucker, first asking for their callsign, to which SCP-3899-1 replied: I'M THE NIGHT HAULER AND I'M COMIN' IN HOT! I KNOW Y'ALL CAN FEEL THIS SPEED! After adjusting their volume to compensate
for 3899-1’s loud response, the agent asked if the entity could explain where they came
from. 3899-1 answered with: I ROLL WITH THE WIND! MY WHEELS SING SWEET LOVE TO THE BLACKTOP! I'M FILLIN' Y'ALL'S VEINS WITH ROAD SALT AND
EXHAUST AND THE SMELL-A BURNIN' RUBBER! AIN'T NO BOTHER WHERE I'M FROM, WE ALL GOTTA
LIVE FOR THE RIDE AND DIE FOR NOTHIN'! “I see,” the agent responded, before asking
“Are you… ‘hauling’ anything in particular?” SCP-3899-1 came back with: Ain't you listenin', girl? Are you seein' this? What I got is pure rattlin' salvation, eighteen
wheels at a time! When y'all's roads is choked, when the ways
is blocked and y'all's speed is all dead and gone, I'm droppin' this load and we'll all
be drinkin' gas and breathin' smoke! The agent didn’t understand though, and
asked again who they were and what they wanted. 3899-1 replied: THIS IS FOR THE SOULS OF THE ROAD! FOR THE LONG NIGHTS AND DEAD ENGINES AND EVERYONE
TRY'NA PUT THAT HORIZON UNDER THEIR WHEELS! I AM THE ROAR OF HOT IRON! I AM SCREAMING FREEDOM! I AM THE DEATH OF ALL BARRIERS! THIS RIG AIN'T GOT NO QUIT, HONEY! I DO NOT STOP! CAN YOU FEEL THE RUMBLE? CAN YOU SEE THE FIRE AND SMELL THE BURN? I KNOW YOU CAN, I CAN TASTE YOUR HEART AND
I KNOW YOU WANT TO FLY APART WITH ME! When the agent began to answer in the affirmative
that they could indeed “feel the rumble,” seemingly caught up in the excitement of SCP-3899-1’s
proclamation, the investigation was quickly halted and the helicopter broke off from its
pursuit. Following this incident, the potential memetic
influence of communicating with 3899-1 is under investigation. SCP-3899, being currently uncontainable by
any conventional means, has been classified as keter. Upon reports of it manifesting, all CB radio
transmissions emanating from the truck are monitored by nearby Foundation listening posts
for attempted contact by SCP-3899 to civilian recipients. Any individuals who were contacted are to
be administered Class B amnestics, as are any eyewitnesses of the truck itself. All information about SCP-3899 is to be suppressed,
and a disinformation campaign is active to make all reports of a mysterious truck that
can appear out of nowhere and move at impossible speeds seem like nothing more than an urban
legend. Just what is SCP-3899? Is the driver some sort of anomalous ghost? Or perhaps an old, eldritch god, a manifestation
of freedom and perpetual motion given physical form as a diesel powered behemoth on the highway. Perhaps the answer to that question… is
up to you. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP 973 Smokey, for another tale of an automotive anomaly with its own
very distinct set of goals. 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. A businessman from Queens had been saving
for years to get something he’d been dreaming of since childhood. A particular wristwatch which just cost over
$20,000. However, mere days after getting his hands
on the pricey accessory, he noticed a small defect on the edge of the watch case - It
was a small metal nub, an imperfection that he could have sworn wasn’t there when he
first bought it. After all, he paid twenty grand for the thing,
surely he’d notice if something was wrong with it when he first picked it up? He brought the watch to the official Service
Center out on 5th Avenue that Friday evening. They’d check the watch out, and have it
back to him by Monday, good as new. You don’t buy a watch like this if you expect
anything less than the very best. The businessman’s watch was stored in a
secure vault with several hundred others as it awaited repair from a highly trained technician. What happened next would be considered unbelievable,
if it hadn’t all been caught on the security camera. The first watch began to mutate over the next
eighteen hours. It shattered into a twisted mass of glass
and metal cogs, its hands shooting out in every direction as four legs and a metal eye
grew out of the resulting mass. This spider-like creature then skittered across
every single other watch in the storage vault, and within another eighteen hours, they mutated
too, until the room was positively alive with tiny metal creatures. Meanwhile, over at Site-19, a guard began
to notice that his standard-issue Foundation handgun was unusually uncomfortable to hold. Perhaps he was developing a nerve issue or
carpal tunnel syndrome? It’s not that uncommon in the profession. But no, it was actually the strange metal
nub forming on his pistol’s grip. He had no idea that, inside the gun, a bizarre
transformation was beginning to take place. And, within three days of the nub first appearing
on the handgun, it underwent a remarkable metamorphosis. Much like the watches, the gun mutated, growing
four legs and an eye, and began running through Site-19, causing chaos. The gun began firing with reckless abandon,
sending bullets ricocheting off the walls, and injuring Dr. Jack Bright and Dr. Sophia
Light as they attempted to disable the rogue pistol. It was able to fire in a sustained fashion
for over a solid minute, before stopping to synthesize new bullets through unknown means. Eventually, the weapon was captured and subsequently
destroyed for presenting an active danger to SCP Foundation personnel. Meanwhile, in an insurance provider’s office
building out in South Dakota, one of the many desk drones working their fingers to the bone
typing up insurance claims barely noticed a small plastic nub forming on the side of
their wireless keyboard. It remained this way for a relatively uneventful
six days, before finally undergoing a complete transformation. It became a chaotic configuration of legs
and keys, spelling out the words “ASK WE WILL ANSWER” on the top of its body. It wandered around the office, seemingly brushing
up against as many other pieces of technology as it could. The astonished workers found that if you typed
any complete sentence onto this mechanical creature’s keys, it would be rendered inactive
for around an hour, much to the relief of everyone who was there at the time. In New Mexico, a small child was about to
be scarred for life when his brand new talking action figure developed a plastic nub on the
nape of its neck. The child didn’t really pay any mind to
it. However, within ten days of the nub’s appearance,
the toy took on a transformation that was impossible to ignore. The toy burst open, its head growing four
legs and skittering away from its own broken body. When the little boy saw this, he called for
his mother. When it began skittering towards him at surprising
speed, he screamed and fled. The head, which had also somehow lost its
eyes to an even more frightening effect, kept repeating “Mom, there’s something wrong
with my toy” in the little boy’s voice. If it wasn’t for the Foundation amnestics
that he and his mother would later receive, he likely would have been scarred for life
by the anomalous experience. In Idaho, an old woman who lived alone noticed
something strange going on with her television set, a lump of warped, bulbous plastic had
started forming on the top. She decided to call a TV repairman, or perhaps
her son who didn’t call her nearly enough, to come over and take a look at it. But as things often do in life, she let it
slip her mind, and two weeks passed without her addressing it. This would prove to be a mistake - Not that
any TV repairman really could have done anything to help. The TV sprouted four long, spider-like legs,
and a single eye. The screen perpetually showed shaky footage
of an unmoving figure, suspended mid-air in the middle of a blank, featureless room. This change from the usual programming disturbed
the old woman greatly, even more so as the television began advancing towards her. Meanwhile, soldiers operating a tank stationed
in Syria noticed a small metal welt on its chassis. Of course, given the natural wear and tear
experienced by tanks on an active battlefield, none of them paid much mind to such a tiny
defect. It continued like this for a month and a half
until tragedy finally struck in the most unexpected fashion: Much like the handgun over in Site-19,
the tank grew legs and started firing in every direction, devastating nearby infrastructure
and killing scores of people around it. It seemed not to discriminate, or even really
to aim. It fired in all directions at soldiers and
civilians alike, and took several groups of soldiers armed with anti-tank weaponry to
finally put it down. No explanation was ever given for what happened
that day. Most people just assumed that it was a tank
operator who’d snapped under the intense pressures of war, and gone berserk, but the
truth would forever elude them. So, what is the truth? Why has all this machinery, from innocent
to disastrous, been taking on a mind of its own and causing chaos across the globe? Allow me to explain. These are just a few entries from the filing
cabinet of incident reports belonging to SCP-658, a parasitic mechanical entity that’s also
known as... the Botflies. SCP-658 instances are a unique species of
highly reproductive anomalous creatures, characterized by their four long, thin legs on the underside
of their bodies, and their single large, mechanical eye somewhere on the upper body. They reproduce through contact with any man
made mechanical objects, though the exact means of parasitic infection are unclear. Simply making contact seems to be enough to
turn an object into a breeding pod for a growing SCP-658 embryo and gestation time is dependent
on the size and complexity of the infected object. The embryo will present itself as a metal
or plastic nub on the surface of the object, appearing to the untrained eye like some kind
of minor production defect. This keeps the embryo safe as it develops,
growing and absorbing the surrounding technology into its own biomechanical makeup. Incidentally, the name “Botfly'' is a play
on an equally unpleasant non-anomalous parasitic insect, latin name Oestridae, which implant
their eggs into the living flesh of their victims, where they incubate, grow, and eventually
burst out from the skin. The similarities in breeding patterns of non-anomalous
botflies and SCP-658 are self-evident. These entities vary massively in size, from
the diminutive stature of five millimeters squared to hundreds of meters. The size of an SCP-658 instance, much like
its aforementioned gestation period, depends entirely on its host object, and Foundation
research has indicated that any complex, man-made mechanical object is susceptible to parasitic
infection. From cellphones to jumbo jets, all technology
is on the table for 658. And, as indicated through the eyewitness accounts
in the case files, the appearance of the individual SCP-658 instances are reflective of whatever
technology incubated them. This influence of the host technology also
appears to extend to SCP-658 behavior, with more benign objects like phones or wrist watches
becoming equally benign creatures, and weapons such as firearms or combat-ready vehicles
taking on a more aggressive nature. Given that the US Military alone has thousands
of vehicles and even more firearms, there are naturally some concerns about what would
happen if ever an SCP-658 outbreak got out of control at a military base. Thanks to the extreme proliferation of and
dependence on technology in our modern era, a large-scale containment breach of SCP-658
could lead to a catastrophic exponential population boom. The SCP Foundation is keeping an extremely
close eye on any signs of SCP-658 activity, especially in technologically-advanced cities
and other densely populated locations. Research has proven that these creatures are
capable of manifesting adaptations that increase their reproductive ability even further. For example, during one test, it was proven
that one SCP-658 instance was capable of impregnating another. The result was it transforming into a creature
with eight legs and two eyes that was capable of impregnating any objects they touched with
two embryos, rather than the typical single embryo. While senior researchers deemed it unwise
to see exactly how far these 658 inter-breeding experiments could go, it stands to reason
that it could also be subjected to an exponential increase. One hyper-mutated 658 instance could be capable
of mass-impregnating larger pieces of technology with hundreds if not thousands of embryos. You can see how these often tiny and seemingly
harmless creatures could quickly become a big problem for all of us. Picture every vehicle - cars, trucks, motorcycles,
scooters, ATVs, vans, humvees, tanks, planes, helicopters, speedboats, yachts, cruise ships,
battleships - all becoming hyper-mutated SCP-658 instances. Then add every phone, every laptop, every
computer, every tablet, every TV, every printer, every kitchen appliance, every gun, all being
infected with SCP-658 embryos and joining the horde. Given how much all of us - including the SCP
Foundation - rely on this technology and so much more in our work and daily lives, it’s
clear how the uncontrolled proliferation of SCP-658 would completely alter the world as
we know it. It’s a clear reminder of the importance
of the SCP Foundation’s work: The worst-case scenarios for even some of the more innocent-seeming
SCPs can be startlingly bleak. Due to the mechanical nature of these anomalies,
all connections to the Church of the Broken God and their illicit activities are being
explored by Foundation field personnel. Containment protocols on SCP-658 are extremely
clear: Any instance of SCP-658 no larger than 50 CM across any axis - considered to be a
“small” SCP-658 sample - is to be stored, alone, in a steel box when not being used
in active testing. Special containment procedures specify that
the box must be kept closed through low-tech means, and we mean a true return to basics
here: String or duct tape are the preferred methods of keeping them under lock and key,
or as some researchers prefer, weighing down the lid with heavy books. Anything with a more complex locking mechanism
is capable of being impregnated by SCP-658, completely negating containment. Any 658 samples larger than 50 centimeters
are to be destroyed as soon as possible after being apprehended by Foundation personnel. This “destroy on sight” order is also
applicable for any technology infected by SCP-658 outside of intentional testing scenarios. In order to avoid population growth during
containment, all captured SCP-658 samples must be kept at least three meters away from
any man-made technology capable of sustaining an SCP-658 embryo. If unsure of whether an object is applicable,
researchers and guards are told to err on the side of caution when it comes to this
anomaly which has been classified as Euclid. After all, when it comes to SCP-658 - or really,
any SCPs - it’s far better to be safe than sorry. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-799 the Carnivorous Blanket, for another SCP with a rather unique breeding
method. 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. The gleaming steel scissors glide effortlessly
through the sheet of red material, slicing through as if nothing was there. The blood red fabric parts to either side. A pair of hands pick up one of the pieces
and hold it up into the air. The man admires his handiwork before draping
the cloth on a dress form and pinning it in place. Although there are many tables in the large
room with sewing machines and mannequins next to them, they’re all empty. The man works all alone in the big room. And it is impossible to notice that he’s
an incredibly handsome man too. So good looking that no matter your preferences,
you can’t help but stop and take notice of his perfect facial features, his slim,
fit physique, his lithe, dextrous hands. He brushes a strand of dirty blonde hair away
from his vibrant blue eyes and takes a pin out of his mouth before adjusting the fabric
just a millimeter more before sticking it in place. The man steps away from the dress form and
admires his work. There, absolutely perfect. There’s no doubt that this will be the closing
look of the upcoming fashion show. Another masterpiece. Just like him. But that doesn’t mean that he’s finished. There’s still much to be done and he goes
back to work at his table, sewing bits of fabric together to create embellishments for
the opulent, couture gown. He’s so focused on his new design that he
doesn’t notice the fashion house’s operating manager in the hall outside of the workroom. The manager points through the glass window
in the door and tells the two police officers with him that this is the man they are looking
for. There’s been a number of tragic and mysterious
crimes involving people connected to this fashion company, and the police have finally
closed in on a suspect. Well not the police exactly, but two SCP Foundation
agents posing as police officers. The Foundation became suspicious after learning
that there had been several missing persons, murders, and mental breakdowns, all of which
involved people connected to this one company. And even more specifically, they were all
connected to one man. There was plenty of evidence that something
more than just regular criminal activity was happening here. Something strange was happening, something
anomalous. One of the police officers nods at his partner
before gesturing for the manager to leave. It’s always better not to have civilians
present during a containment. The incredibly handsome man still hasn’t
noticed his guests in the hall, remaining completely absorbed in his work, and he doesn’t
even look up when the two agents burst into the room, both with guns drawn, not taking
any chances. “Freeze! Drop your weapon!” one of the agents shouts,
but the beautiful man doesn’t respond, and just continues snipping away at fabric with
his scissors. “I said freeze!” he commands again, and
this time, the handsome man at least appears to have heard them, finally stopping his work. He slowly looks up with his piercing eyes
to gaze at the men who have intruded into his creative workspace. “Drop your weapon, now.” the agent tells him. The man looks over at his hand which still
holds the large pair of scissors and smiles. He gently places the scissors down on the
table, careful not to let them touch the expensive cloth that is rolled out before him. “Now put your hands up!” This time there’s no response and the man
grips the edge of the table, smiling, and stares into the eyes of the agents, first
one, then the other. “Hands up or we’ll be forced to shoot!” The smile slowly leaves the handsome man’s
face. “Will you excuse me for one moment,” he
says, though with no hint in his voice that it’s actually a request. The agents seem unsure of what to do, both
of them appear taken aback and confused by his nonchalant attitude. The handsome man turns away from the agents
and quickly steps behind a dressing screen that’s been setup near his work table. As he walks behind it, he doesn’t break
his stride at all, he simply passes behind the screen for mere seconds, and steps out
on the other side. Only once he steps out, it isn’t him anymore. The man that emerges from behind the screen
is a completely different person. Where once he was slim, graceful, clean shaven,
and dressed in a fine suit, now he is heavy and muscled, like a professional football
player, with a thick beard, and dressed as if he’s a member of a SWAT team. Before the agents can even react to the bizarre
metamorphosis, the large man charges them and begins attacking. He snaps the neck of one and plunges the scissors
he snatched off the table into the other’s neck. More SCP containment specialists, these ones
dressed in tactical gear with no attempt made to disguise themselves as everyday police,
flood into the room and open fire, but the man who looks like a Navy SEAL picks up the
fallen agent’s guns and begins firing both at the same time. He outguns and outmaneuvers the agents, effortlessly
rolling behind cover while constantly firing, taking out agent after agent. Screams fill the air, both from the dying
SCP agents as well as the civilians who are struck through the walls by the onslaught,
including the manager who had snuck back to the door window to watch what he thought would
be the snobby, handsome man being taken into custody. The window behind the special ops soldier
explodes and two SCP agents rapel through, catching him by surprise and knocking him
to the ground. It takes even more agents rushing in to hold
the man down as he struggles and screams like a wild animal, breaking one of their jaws
for good measure before they’re finally able to subdue him and confine him with heavy
duty straps. When all is said and done, seventeen agents
and ten civilians have lost their lives, but the anomaly has finally been contained. Once it is taken to a secured location it
is given a new designation, SCP-056, but the site staff soon give it a new nickname, calling
it simply… A Beautiful Person. SCP-056 is one of the most deceptive, and
one of the most dangerous anomalies known to the SCP Foundation. It is a being whose size, gender, and appearance
can all vary in an instant, and which will change in response to its environment. The form it has most commonly taken while
in contrainment resembles a man who appears to be in his mid twenties. His exact looks will vary slightly but he
will always be what could be described as incredibly handsome, at least by traditional
societal standards. His clothes will change as well to be a style
similar to those of other people around him, though they will always be of a higher quality
and more aesthetically pleasing than anyone nearby is wearing. While that appears to be SCP-056’s preferred
form, it’s far from its only one. In addition to the young man, it has also
been observed taking on several others including a woman with a striking resemblance to Hollywood
actress Scarlett Johansson, a form it took when walking past a group of a younger female
staff; a male bodybuilder who could bench press over 250 kilograms, which was 30 kilograms
more than the strongest security guard stationed at the Foundation site; it took the form of
a female doctor who was measured as having an IQ score 30 points higher than any on site
researchers; as well as non human forms like a large, well groomed labrador retriever when
it was exposed to another researcher’s dog, and an extremely aesthetically pleasing couch
when left alone in its own containment chamber. These changes from one form to the other occur
whenever people lose focus on the subject, something that seems to happen when new people
are exposed to SCP-056. And once they lose focus, it’s able to change
in appearance virtually instantaneously. Attempts to film the transformation have resulted
in the recording equipment exhibiting the same effect, seemingly “losing focus”
and being unable to see exactly what happens when SCP-056 changes from one form to another. It’s clothing will change along with its
bodily form, though so far it hasn’t been observed manifesting weapons or other tools. Great efforts have been made to determine
SCP-056’s “original” form, though so far these have all been met with failure. When placed within an empty concrete cell
and placed under constant video surveillance, the cameras experienced the same loss of focus
that others did, and then were met with a rather surprising figure left in the room. SCP-056 had taken the form of a video camera,
similar to the one being used to record it though a slightly more advanced and expensive
model. Additional attempts were made to discover
its true form, this time without direct observation equipment, with researchers instead making
use of passive scans that could detect changes to lifeforms. When they left SCP-056 alone and monitored
it using these tools, what they found was… nothing. There was no detectable body temperature,
heartbeat, or even weight. It appeared that when not observed, SCP-056
simply ceased to be. Those who have personal contact with SCP-056
often report that the anomalous entity makes them feel substandard, or jealous, as if they
can’t measure up to it, yet at the same time will seem to seek its approval. This extends to SCP security staff, who will
express a desire to follow its commands, while researchers will try to argue with it, something
that usually results in them leaving its containment cell feeling as though they were outwitted
by its itelligence. And SCP-056’s expert communication abilities
seem not to be limited by complex subjects or language barriers. Research has shown it to be fluent in at least
200 different dialects, and it has exhibited an expert level of knowledge in such varied
topics as fashion, automobiles, theoretical science, sports, and a multitude of others,
all of which it will usually show a greater knowledge of than the person it is conversing
with. And despite leaving the conversations feeling
dejected about their own abilities, those who talk to it will almost always express
a desire to speak with SCP-056 again, as if they can’t resist being made to feel inadequate
by it. A number of tests were then performed to discover
just what form SCP-056 would take when presented with various situations, and the results were
rather interesting. In the first, a male Class D personnel was
given a knife and told to try and attack SCP-056. 056 quickly took the form of a young, fit
man who was able to effortlessly disarm the attacking D Class and killed him with the
knife instead. In another test, a female D Class entered
its cell not with a weapon, but with a bottle of expensive wine. They were met with SCP-056 in the form of
a young, beautiful woman, who accepted the wine but upon trying it, spit it out in the
D Class’s face and sent them away. Next, researchers sent two D Classes in at
the same time, one male and one female, with no specific orders at all. SCP-056 appeared as a beautiful woman in a
well tailored business suit who proceeded to examine both the D Classes, pointing out
their each and every physical flaw before sending them too on their way. Researchers then tried sending ten Class D
personnel into the cell, all of whom were male and who had expressed a romantic preference
for females. SCP-056 appeared as an especially beautiful
female in a low cut red dress. 056 didn’t interact with the group in any
way, but after ten minutes the D Classes began to look uncomfortable. Soon an all out brawl broke out between the
D Classes as they violently assaulted each other, apparently for SCP-056’s approval. 056 seened to watch the melee with pleasure
for several minutes before calling an end to it and sending them all out. A member of staff then volunteered to be tested
with SCP-056, a level 4 personnel who was regarded as being especially beautiful herself. She entered SCP-056’s cell, where the anomaly
took the form of a similarly beautiful, professional looking woman, and the two proceeded to have
a conversation, discussing various advanced personnel management techniques. Their discussion seemed amiable, but after
ninety minutes, the staff member appeared to become infuriated with SCP-056 and quickly
left the room. While no crosstests with other SCPs have yet
to be performed, when asked about other anomalies, SCP-056 shows a rare instance of vulnerability,
expressing hatred towards them and even occasionally… fear. SCP-056 has been relatively benign in its
time in SCP containment, seemingly content to spend its time around Foundation staff. It’s been allowed to have a cell of its
own choosing, as well as pick its own furnishings, which have tended towards expensive and fashionable
decor. Security staff assigned to guard it are equipped
with high powered tranquilizers and any staff that exhibit mental irregularities after extended
exposure to SCP-056 must undergo immediate psychological examination. It has frequently asked for access to the
internet, and when asked why it desires that, SCP-056 responded that the Foundation was
“unable to provide it with enough sycophants", and that it "wanted the whole world to know
its face." Needless to say, its request for internet
access was denied, and the anomaly which has been classified as Euclid, continues to be
securely cut off from the general public and remains in Foundation containment. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, Like SCP-054, the Water Nymph, for another beautiful creature kept locked
away by the SCP Foundation, 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. The young man watches as the lily-white coffin
is lowered into the ground. He’s surprised at the dryness of his eyes,
seeing as it’s his own mother being buried, but now isn’t the time for questions. When the dirt is piled on and the small service
comes to an end, the young man is the last to leave. Other than the eulogy, he never says a single
word to anyone. She’d been… Difficult, towards the end.. He’d cared for his mother until her disease
had made it so that she wasn’t really his mother anymore - And then for another two
years after that. Things had been said and done that he wished
he could remove from his memories of her, but the past is forever set. As he looks up from his mother’s gravestone,
he notices something strange in the distance, perhaps thirty feet away from him. A little girl, maybe about ten years old,
in a school uniform, standing behind another gravestone. She’s wearing a worn-looking, plastic pig
mask, and carrying a dirty rag doll. The young man stares into the dark eye holes
of her mask for a moment, wondering if he’s really seeing this or if she’s a figment
of his imagination brought on by stress and grief… Then he blinks and… she’s gone. For a second, he feels a frightening sentence
looping through the dark recesses of his mind: You’re starting to lose it already. A few years ahead of schedule. You’d make your mother proud… The young man shakes his head and leaves for
home. Of course, he might see things on a day like
this. The mind does funny things when it’s in
a state of extreme emotional distress. It was perfectly natural that he’d see strange
things on a day like this. But that little girl in the pig mask really
did look real… Arriving home is a surreal experience. It’s the first time in a long time that
he’s truly felt alone, like a child lost in a vast and unfamiliar space. Something about it just felt wrong. He makes himself a microwave meal and eats
it silently in the kitchen. The place is so quiet. No panicked yells or cries of pain. He sighs and looks out the kitchen window
as he washes the dishes and in the distance, he sees another strange sight: A young boy,
twelve years old or so, standing out in the cold, dark woods next to his house. He’s wearing only swimming trunks. Swimming trunks and a worn-looking plastic
mouse mask. A rag-doll hangs limply from his thin, pale
arm, just like the one the girl in the graveyard was holding. The young man’s first instinct is to go
out and help the child - after all, it’s a cold night, he could catch his death out
there - but with another blink, the child is gone. Just trees in the dark. He breathes a ragged sigh and takes an aspirin. Something must really be wrong with him if
he keeps seeing strange children with animal faces out there… He trudges upstairs, hoping that maybe he’ll
get some sleep tonight and feel a little better in the morning. Shadows dart in the corners of his eyes, but
he pays them no mind. He can’t trust anything he sees today. He pauses for a moment in front of the room
where his mother used to sleep. It looks cavernous without her tiny form nestled
in the bed. He thinks about how she’d last been in that
same room a little more than a week earlier. He sighs, turns off the light, and goes to
bed. That night, the young man has strange dreams. He feels like a tiny fish at the deepest,
darkest point of the ocean, watching huge, black shapes loom and shift around him. He’s afraid. He feels like he’s being watched. The sudden spike of terror jolts him out of
his sleep, and that’s when he sees them. The children in the animal masks. Seven of them now. They stand around his bed, hand in hand, like
they’re playing some kind of game, but in dead silence. Each one has a rag doll sitting patiently
at their feet. Logically, he should be more afraid upon seeing
them. It’s the strangest experience of his life. And yet, he feels an odd sense of empty calm
settle over him like a warm blanket. His eyes close and sleep takes him again. When the young man wakes up the next morning,
something doesn’t feel right. He’s already dismissed the strange children
with the animal masks and the dolls as a figment of his imagination, a half-waking dream, but
what he can’t dismiss is the numbness in his fingers and toes. It’s like he’d spent all night sleeping
in the cold outside, despite his room being perfectly warm. Perhaps he’s coming down with something. Other strange things start to happen over
the next few days. He makes himself a sandwich, and as he bites
into it, he notices he can’t taste a thing. Come to think of it, he really can’t smell
that much, either. Could this be a cold? The flu? Something worse? Also, he just can’t shake the feeling that
he isn’t alone in the house. It’s as if he can feel a presence there
with him. And not just one presence, but multiple. Could it have something to do with those strange
dreams and hallucinations? The children in the masks? He suppresses the thoughts, not wanting to
consider their implication. He can scarcely dare to ponder what’s worse:
That there really are strange little children in masks creeping around his home, making
him sick, or that he’s losing his mind, just like his mother? He puts it out of his mind, but every so often,
when he happens to glance out of the window, he can’t help but see little shapes moving
in the distance. When he watches the TV or tries to listen
to music to distract himself, he notices that he needs to turn up the volume more than he
ever did before. His hearing is getting worse. Could this be some kind of sinus thing? It’s the only rational explanation. But it can be hard to apply a rational explanation
when what’s happening is inherently irrational. Several days later, after getting out of bed
in the morning and standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the young man notices something
is different. It’s his skin. It’s a pale, almost creamy color now, like
all the life and vitality has been leached out of it. But it’s not just that. He looks closer at his face in the mirror:
His eyes. Have they always looked like that? Were they always that shade of dark, murky
brown? Maybe it’s his addled mind, but he can swear
something is different. Like the ground is shifting underneath his
feet. That’s when he notices something in the
corner of the mirror: A little boy with dark blue overalls and a grinning cat mask. He just stands there. Watching. The young man turns, hoping to finally see
one of these strange children up close. But, of course, there’s nothing there. Over the following days, it all gets worse. Two weeks since the funeral, and his senses
of taste and smell haven’t returned. His hearing gets worse by the day, until he’s
almost entirely deaf. The sightings of the children don’t stop,
but they’re harder to make out. Over time, his vision starts to blur, and
no matter how hard he rubs his eyes, they never clear. He stubs his toe, cracking the toenail open
from tip to base, and he doesn’t even notice. Little by little, feeling itself is starting
to leave him. He doesn’t even notice until the day he
decides to chop some carrots for a soup he’s making, hoping in vain that this one might
be the meal he can finally taste. But his vision is getting so blurry now, he
can barely-- The knife cuts into his palm. It takes him a second to even register because
there’s no pain and no blood. He stares at the clean wound in his palm with
detached fascination, trying to work out the shapes in front of him, to make sense of it
all. What are those thin, white strands sticking
out of the cut? He grabs the edge of the skin - though it
doesn’t look much like skin now, more like pale, ragged fabric - and he peels it back. No blood, no sinew, no flesh. Just puffy, white stuffing underneath. He’s in bed and has been for a few days
now. He can’t taste, smell, hear, feel, or even
see. All he can do is think in the dark. He’s confused and afraid. He wants his mother, but she’s long gone. On the outside, he’s shrinking away, drawing
into himself. He can’t move or talk as he gets smaller
and smaller. They walk in through the walls, the children
in masks, ready to receive their new toy. The young man is nothing more. All that’s left is another rag doll with
a pair of brown button eyes laying on the bed. A little boy in a rabbit mask steps forward
and picks it up. He stares at it for a moment before the children
leave and the house is empty once more. This is the kind of unpleasant, anomalous
experience you can expect from a close encounter with SCP-747, aptly nicknamed “Children
and Dolls.” SCP-747 specifically refers to the phenomenon
of these strange, anomalous children wearing animal masks. Studies have shown that, masks aside, all
of these children are identical to children who were proven to have died around the time
that their anomalous counterparts first manifested. This leads us to the working theory that the
SCP-747 instances are spectral manifestations of the children they once were, twisted somehow
by the unifying force of SCP-747. This is a theory supported by several pieces
of unsettling information. Agents from the SCP Foundation disguised as
grief counselors conducted interviews with the bereaved parents of each of the deceased
children, and through these heart wrenching interviews, they were able to discover that
each of the children who’d died had possessed a doll that they loved very dearly. So much so that the dolls were each buried
with them, because, on some level, the thought of separating them from this last comfort
of the mortal world was too painful for the parents to bear. Given the preoccupation with dolls exhibited
by SCP-747 instances, the Foundation found these facts to be highly illuminating. The physicality of SCP-747 instances - or
rather, the lack thereof - also points towards the theory of them being powerful spectral
manifestations. They are able to phase through solid surfaces
of up to ten centimeters in thickness and can sometimes have difficulty in holding solid
objects due to their partially-solid nature. They live mysterious and lonely lives on a
plane of reality adjacent to our own and they have never been seen to speak, though it’s
likely that they do have some form of communication with one another. Outside of individuals they’re directly
targeting, the SCP-747 children show little interest in other non-anomalous humans. They mainly seem to occupy themselves with
their dolls and with each other. It is unknown to what extent the children
are truly sentient, but they do appear to have some form of self-comprehension, manifesting
in an awareness of the space they take up and their surroundings, which keeps them from
bumping into things as they walk. But of course, their spectrality is hardly
the most unsettling or eye-catching feature of SCP-747. No, the real danger of SCP-747 is s the fact
they’re able to turn human beings into dolls, a process which takes a matter of seconds
to instill but 21 torturous days to finally take effect. In order to begin this process, the children
will select a human that intrigues them. Perhaps one that would fit in nicely with
their collection. The Foundation isn’t currently aware whether
there are any fixed criteria for victim selection, or if it’s just a matter of wrong place
at the wrong time. When the time is right and their selection
is secure, they’ll lock hands and form a ring around the human in question for five
to seven seconds. This is all it takes. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven seconds. And you’re already at the point of no return. After completing this brief ritual, the children
will go their separate ways, and the process will begin to take hold. This is why it’s so imperative for the SCP
Foundation to keep a lid on SCP-747’s activities. While there’s no cure for the process once
the ritual is done, it is possible to prevent the ritual from being completed in the first
place by escaping the circle and leaving the SCP-747 children. However, they have cognitohazardous measures
against this, with many victims reporting a sense of blankness or thoughtlessness while
within the circle. They induce a placid state of mind to prevent
resistance from the horrible fate they’re bestowing. The transformation doesn’t incur any immediate
symptoms. However, after fifteen minutes or so, the
victim will begin to experience numbness in the extremities, much like the kind caused
by cold weather or poor blood circulation. Symptoms will gradually worsen over the next
21 days, though if the victim enters a state of chronic stress or anxiety, this process
could potentially shorten to as little as ten days. The conversion can often be neatly divided
into three distinct stages. Stage 1: Loss of Minor Senses The most frightening aspect of this initial
stage of transformation is the fact that many of its symptoms could easily be written off
as that of more common minor ailments. The senses of smell, taste, and hearing will
begin to dampen and then disappear entirely, in what may at first seem like a severe cold. The victim may express a sense of distress
at their condition at this stage but will remain largely mentally stable. Any deviations from that expectation into
more extreme mental instability should be taken as a sign of an accelerated transformation
rate. However, towards the end of stage one, a more
pronounced change will start to take hold: The victim will notice a slow shift of their
eye color and skin tone to reflect the colors of the doll. Though this is only the beginning. Stage 2: Loss of Major Senses Over the next thirteen days, the victims will
begin to lose their senses of sight and touch, resulting in extreme mental instability and
stress. The victims may attempt to perform gruesome
experiments on themselves, trying to rediscover feelings in their body, only to become more
unstable upon realizing that these senses are gone for good. At this stage, the frightening, anomalous
physical changes will become even more pronounced. The skin of the victim will take on a rough,
ragged quality as it transforms from normal skin to a variety of fabrics. The internal organs are also slowly transformed
into a patchwork of synthetic stuffings and even the victim’s eyes will start to harden
into buttons. However, the victim will remain alive throughout
this entire grim process, even as their autonomy over their own body rapidly fades away. Stage 3: Full Transformation Within twenty-four hours of entering stage
three, the victim is fully and irreparably turned into a doll. The SCP-747 children will treat this doll
just like they treat any others and if ever a doll created by the influence of SCP-747
is destroyed, they will show greater interest in humans once again, until a new target for
conversion is selected. The SCP Foundation currently has seven SCP-747
specimens in containment. SCP-747-01 is an approximately seven-year-old
male wearing a set of blue pyjamas and a zebra mask. SCP-747-02 is an approximately twelve-year-old
male wearing swimming trunks and a mouse mask. SCP-747-03 is an approximately ten-year-old
female wearing a uniform typical of an expensive private school and a pig mask. SCP-747-04 is a male is an approximately fourteen-year-old
male wearing a winter coat and a rabbit mask. SCP-747-05 is an approximately twelve-year-old
female wearing a striped sari and a giraffe mask. SCP-747-06 is an approximately five-year-old
girl with a bright pink dress typical of a beauty pageant contestant and a goat mask. And finally, SCP-747-07 is an approximately
nine-year-old male wearing blue overalls and a cat mask. Interestingly, he was also found with a physical
note, containing a short story about a mother searching for her child in the afterlife. Interestingly, the mother of this particular
entity - before becoming an SCP-747 instance - is believed to have died in childbirth. All of the SCP-747 instances that the Foundation
has in containment are kept in a single containment chamber, thirty meters by ten meters in size,
with concrete walls at least fifteen centimeters thick to prevent the children from phasing
through them. It is mandatory that any unusual behaviors
by the children are reported to a superior immediately. If the children seem to take an interest in
any members of the staff that research, guard, or attend to them, that member of personnel
must be transferred to a different project immediately. The children are allowed a total of 25 dolls
to keep them placated, excluding ones created by their anomalous influence and the SCP Foundation
only permits their dolls to be temporarily removed from the containment chamber for examination
and repair. Any staff members who begin to show the previously-described
symptoms of anomalous SCP-747 influence are to be quarantined and contained separately. Task Force 747-B8 remains on call in the event
of a containment breach, to handle tracking, capture, and containment. Due to the incredibly volatile and dangerous
nature of interfacing with SCP-747, Level 3 staff and above are only able to come into
contact with them if the situation absolutely demands it. SCP-747 has been given the containment object
class Euclid, due to their phasing abilities and unpredictable nature. After all, who could ever really know what’s
going on behind those masks? But there’s one more detail about SCP-747,
that is perhaps the most frightening of all. There is evidence that suggests that the victims
who have been turned into SCP-747 dolls may not actually be dead. In fact, they may still remain conscious,
cut off from all their senses, slowly descending further into madness. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-4666 The Yule Man, for more eerie anomalous dolls that used to be
a lot more active. 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. A woman wakes up on a bright, sunny morning
in Midland, Texas. It’s her day off, and she decides she’s
going to use the time to take care of all the lingering errands she’d been putting
off for far too long. She gets dressed, washes her hair, and prepares
to pour herself a nice bowl of cereal. But when she opens the refrigerator she finds… there’s no milk. She’ll need to see to that immediately. She steps out of her front door and notices
a paper on her doormat. She bends down to pick up the pamphlet which
advertises a new supermarket opening in town, and what do you know, there’s a coupon for
milk attached. What a stroke of good luck! The woman makes her way into town, eager to
check out the new grocery store. She parks her car, and approaches the building,
when suddenly a stranger is standing right in front of her - carrying a plate of what
appear to be free samples. He’s dressed like a supermarket employee,
but he’s built like a soldier, complete with a military crew cut. He smiles and tells her that he actually works
for a rival store and points at a building across the street. He’s positive that whatever she thinks she
can get at this store, she can instead get at the one across the street for a lower cost
and higher quality. She can’t help but notice the almost unsettling
desperation in the salesman’s face. Something about his spiel makes her feel like
she’s in danger. She politely declines his offer but he continues
pitching deals and bargains at her as she makes her way into the safety of the new supermarket. The clean tiles below and the buzzing fluorescent
lights above seem so familiar, yet also strangely alien to her. Something about this place is just… Wrong. But she needs the milk, so she walks down
the aisles, deeper into the store. She hears strange noises and looks over her
shoulder. Was the bread aisle always behind her? She could have sworn she just came out of
the meat and fish section. Where do they even keep the milk in this place? Every so often, there’s a strange noise
somewhere in the store around her. It sounds almost like footsteps, but not quite. More like claws tapping on the tiles. Is she alone in here? Come to think of it, she can’t quite remember
seeing anyone else since she came in. There’s something so profoundly off about
this place, but she just can’t put her finger on what. She takes a step forward, and suddenly, the
floor gives way beneath her. The tiles separate with the whirr of mechanized
gears, as a trap door opens up. In an instant, she’s tumbling down into
darkness. As she falls she can see the white light beaming
in from above illuminate the edge of something metal and razor sharp. In the store above, the sound of a scream
can be heard, then the soft squish of metal piercing flesh followed by the gurgle of blood,
and then the trap door closes. A tinny voice over the PA system comes on
and says, “Clean up on aisle six.” The woman is never seen again after that. What superficially appears to be an independent
supermarket in Midland, Texas, actually contains a number of strange and often deadly paranormal
secrets, and that doesn’t even stop it from being a successful and popular supermarket. But the weirdest part of all? It’s all perfectly legal, thank you very
much. Welcome to Yeah, We're Totally Going to Sell
You This - Or, as it’s known to the SCP Foundation, SCP-4703. The primary anomalous effects surrounding
SCP-4703 affect not its customers, but the very legality of its own existence and operations. The anomalies shift laws to make everything
that goes on inside legal, no matter how unethical or dangerous. It also often reshapes laws to protect its
own interests from outsiders, and anyone who breaks these laws may experience spontaneous
attacks from violent animals, the most common of which are vicious lions. Here are a handful of the unethical and dangerous
- yet perfectly legal, thank you very much - things that go on within the confines of
SCP-4703. The stacks of shelves are mounted on powerful
pneumatic actuators that seem to shift and spin of their own accord. While this has the intention of keeping the
store varied and stopping customers from leaving, it more often causes serious injury with its
sudden movements. Occasionally, these sets of shelves will collide,
crushing whatever is stuck between them. If a child becomes lost or separated from
their parents while they’re inside the store, the child is forcibly detained, and the parent
or parents can only get their child back by either paying an upfront cost of $47.67 in
cash or submitting to having their eyebrows permanently removed with laser follicle surgery. There are also several dozen hidden trapdoor
mechanisms beneath the floor in various parts of the building, each one triggered by some
strange and arbitrary condition, such as saying the word Wednesday, or by not saying the word
Wednesday. The triggers are updated each day and displayed
on the store’s website in several dead languages, including Latin, Koine Greek, Phoenician,
and Punic. Each of these trap doors drops into deep shafts
filled with some kind of hazard, such as spikes, glitter, or poisonous snakes. Yes, that’s poisonous, not venomous. The snakes are only dangerous when eaten,
but victims have reported that they seem incredibly appealing which makes resisting them rather
difficult. A section on the far side of the store is
marked “Starving for SAVINGS???” and “Discounts ad bestias!!!”, where all
the products are fenced off and also marked down by 70% or more. However, the products are guarded by no less
than fifteen hungry lions. Store-branded fishing rods, telescopic grabbing
mechanisms, and drones are available to rent for the explicit purpose of retrieving items
remotely, although this will result in far higher costs, so you will have to brave the
lions in order to attain those incredible deals. There’s also a roughly five percent chance
that, after checkout, your cashier will ask you to kiss them on the lips. If you refuse, they’ll burn your purchases
in front of you, and you won’t receive a refund. If you do kiss them, there’s a one in three
chance that the cashier will have an anomalous toxin on their lips that will cause you to
drop dead instantly. And every day, at an arbitrary time between
the hours of 3 PM and closing time, the lions will be released from the discount section
to roam the store, and only two checkout lines will remain open. All items will be free during this period
but they must be scanned one by one. The SCP Foundation is currently exploring
links between SCP-4703 and two other anomalies like SCP-2030 and SCP-1459, the former being
the cursed hidden camera show Laugh Is Fun and the latter being a nightmarish vending
machine that murders puppies and dispenses a variety of cookies in exchange. So then if it is so dangerous, why doesn’t
the SCP Foundation simply block access to Yeah, We're Totally Going to Sell You This? Unfortunately,, thanks to the anomalous legal
effect created by SCP-4703, the Foundation can’t just storm in or physically contain
the building. So instead they attempt to divert as many
customers away from 4703 as possible. To do this, the Foundation has started a rival
supermarket across the street, named Super Competitive Prices LLC. Sheldon M. Katz, esquire, is an SCP Foundation
Lawyer and Bureauromancer - a thaumatologist skilled in the art of interfacing with anomalously
bureaucratic SCPs, and he is spearheading the Foundation Legal Team’s efforts into
combatting SCP-4703. Untangling the complex web of legality around
SCP-4703 is a full-time job, after all, and in the following memo, Mr. Katz did all he
could to articulate the sheer enormity of the problem they’re dealing with. He writes: “Counteraction of SCP-4703’s legal anomalies
is a top-level priority for our department, and we are making every effort to resolve
the matter in a way which minimizes loss of life and economic detriment. We have received a significant number of inquiries
regarding the mechanism of SCP-4703's indisputable legality; unfortunately, there are no easy
answers. Law is a human concept. It exists on paper because we write it down. It exists in practice because we enforce it. Generally we interpret and exercise the law
through the scrutiny of semantics, intent, and precedent, yet bureaucratohazards such
as SCP-4703 are not necessarily predicated on such things—in fact, the law as most
know it has very little to do with the matter. While it's not a perfect comparison, one could
say that baseline law is to anomalous law as arithmetic is to algebra: both are recognized
as mathematics, but the latter is more abstract. Imagine that Timmy and Sally each have two
apples. If Timmy gives Sally his apples, then Sally
should end up with four. But she doesn't. She has ten. How can this be? Sally recounts the apples and reenacts the
scenario over and over, but there is no mistake. Two and two make ten. It is an incontrovertible fact. You see, even if anomalies are irrational,
they are factual, and it is essential that one accept this if they wish to develop a
countervailing methodology. Once Sally accepts that her four apples have
become ten, she reevaluates her radix and decides to recount the apples in base four. Suddenly, the "ten" apples are "10" apples. "10" is four in base four, which is the appropriate
number of apples. Eureka! Sally collects another four apples, bringing
the total to "twenty", which is "20", which is eight, which confirms that her new paradigm
aligns with the abnormality. Form follows function according to the function
of the form, and at last, everything makes sense. Except none of it does, really. A well-behaved reality oughtn't conflate the
concrete with the abstract. If you initially perceived a countable sum
of ten apples in base ten, then the equivalent number of apples in base four should be twenty-two,
since it stands to reason that changing your subjective view of an outcome oughtn't alter
the physical materials in the equation. However, we live in a very naughty reality
which may, on a whim, allow a young girl to wield apples unbeholden to thermodynamics. This explanation is inadequate, of course,
but hopefully it goes a small way toward helping you understand why the legal department is
currently occupied with a comprehensive redrafting of Texas corporate law in a quaternary semiological
system. This in itself would be an exceptional feat
even for the most skilled of bureaucromancers, and it is further compounded by the necessary
incorporation of contingency clauses against the self-aware fact patterns that keep legitimizing
rabid lions into existence inside my goddamned bathroom. We are grateful to you, our valued colleagues,
for your patience and cooperation as we work together toward a solution.” The Foundation is currently conducting a three-pronged
attack against the forces of SCP-4703, the first being the Super Competitive Prices LLC
competitive store, the second is the tireless efforts of Mr. Katz and his team against the
trifling legal issues of SCP-4703, and the third is outright infiltration and espionage. Of course, when you’re going behind enemy
lines, it’s crucial that the proper operative is selected for the job. It can’t just be anyone, dropped into a
high-pressure situation like this. Especially considering the rapidly evolving
nature of SCP-4703’s conditions, the SCP Foundation was more than aware that they might
only get one shot at getting one of their own in and out of the building. For this task they selected Field Agent Felicity
Blandina, code name: Karen of Justice. Blandina was uniquely qualified for a job
like this. In personality tests conducted on all Foundation
agents to test loyalty, they consistently found Blandina to be one of the most obtuse
and shameless agents on the Foundation payroll. During group lunches with other staff members,
she has been reported numerous times sending meals back to the kitchen when she felt they
were unsatisfactory. And Foundation cyber-analysts have detected
multiple posts on various social media networks made by her, directly tagging and criticizing
brands that provided products or services she perceived as being sub-par. While these qualities made her a terror to
the customer service staff in her local area, they made her the ideal candidate for bypassing
the bureaucratic stronghold of SCP-4703. If anyone could do it, it would be Field Agent
Felicity Blandina. She was sent into the building with an expired
coupon under the pretense of being an unhappy customer. She spoke to a sales assistant inside the
store named Daniel Paulson, who explained to her that her coupon was denied because
it was only applicable when the recipient submitted to ritual castration performed by
the SCP-4703 staff. Seeing as Agent Blandina didn’t have the
necessary equipment to undergo such a procedure, Paulson generously offered to provide her
with a free surgery to have the proper parts attached, though finding a suitable donor
would likely take several months. Agent Blandina, following her well-trained
Foundation directives, could not be assuaged by the bargain. Instead, she pressed on, first guilt-tripping
him with sob stories about her children, then her lifelong struggles with astigmatism, and
even threatening Paulson with physical violence. Eventually, she delivered the true coup de
grace: Demanding to speak to the manager. Showing clear reluctance, Paulson agreed,
and led Agent Blandina to a door near the front of the store. It opened up into an unlit staircase that
descended into the darkness below. At the bottom, they found a break room that
appeared similar to a bunkhouse in a Prisoner of War camp, containing hammock after hammock,
filled with uncomfortable, sleeping employees. Paulson informed Agent Blandina that some
of the people who work at the store were once normal civilians who’d been exploited with
a number of legal loopholes, and now lived inside the store full time. Some, for example, had stayed in past closing
time, which had resulted in them becoming store property for a minimum of a year. Paulson himself had entered a raffle for an
abs transplant and instead won servitude at SCP-4703, which he couldn’t legally turn
down thanks to the powerful anomalous laws of the store. As Paulson and Agent Blandina ventured deeper
into the bowels of the staff area, they passed eleven unmarked doors, before finally stopping
in front of the twelfth and last one. She opened the door and discovered shelves
and stacked boxes within. Agent Blandina expressed incredulity at the
idea that the store’s manager would be kept inside of a supply closet in the basement,
but Paulson insisted that this was indeed the manager’s office, and as he did he pulled
a string connected to the ceiling. This caused a wall of boxes to split down
the middle like a secret doorway, revealing a large executive chair, facing the wall on
the other side of the room. Still maintaining the cover story that she
just wanted a discount, Agent Blandina pressed on and approached the chair. She spun it around to get a better look at
the manager and found herself standing in front of a dessicated corpse, with no eyes
and all of his teeth pulled out, his mouth wrenched open in a permanent, silent scream
of terror. Paulson identified this man as Mr. Venatio
Haruspice, the manager of SCP-4703. Paulson would have told Agent Blandina that
his boss was a corpse earlier, but to do so was against their rules. Agent Blandina sighed and grumbled, “I feel
like I should have expected this.” Paulson assured Agent Blandina that she could
still make her complaint, though, and the Owner of the store would eventually hear it. As Paulson understood it, the body known as
the Manager acted almost like a kind of telephone, sending messages through to the Owner. The Owner would then reply through faxed messages
hidden inside the cereal boxes that acted as the only food source of the staff trapped
within. This Kafkaesque nightmare just kept getting
worse and worse, but Agent Blandina refused to give up that easily. Agent Blandina asked him to explain the exact
nature of the manager’s condition to him. Paulson replied, “I know that he's legally
our manager. I know that he's, well, what he is. I know that one of us always has to kiss him
goodnight at closing time. I know that if we tell him something, the
owner knows, but the owner seems to know everything that happens here anyway, so I can't be certain
that's related. What else…? I know that he's empty— or hollow, actually. Hollow's probably a better word.” Agent Blandina leaned in a little further
to see what exactly Paulson meant by that, only to make a horrifying discovery: The Manager
wasn’t a whole corpse, he was just dessicated skin, a husk somehow propped up into the shape
of a corpse. When Agent Blandina asked why Paulson specified
“hollow” and not “empty”, he told her that it was because a noise was sometimes
heard emanating from within the skin husk. Agent Blandina wisely refused to put her ear
anywhere near the Manager’s gaping, toothless mouth, and instead fed the hidden microphone
she had been wearing down into the husk’s throat. Before Paulson had time to remark on the strangeness
of this, sirens and alarms began going off all around them. Paulson began to panic, yelling that the lions
were incoming, and the duo needed to move quickly to get out of harm’s way. Luckily, Agent Blandina was able to escape
with only minor injuries. But shortly after her escape, SCP-4703’s
legality was once again restructured to make it illegal for non-employees to enter the
employee-only areas. The audio that Agent Blandina recorded inside
the body of the Manager was also analyzed by experts at the Foundation, and they discovered
that, when sped up by 75%, the sound was indistinguishable from human laughter. Due to the highly strange nature of this anomaly
and its containment procedures - even by SCP Foundation standards - the classes and designations
applied to SCP-4703 are equally strange and complex. Knowledge of the file and the anomaly itself
is relatively low-tier, with Restricted Level 2 Access Permissions. Due to the immense difficulty in keeping SCP-4703
hidden or contained, thanks to its unique legal situation, it has been given the Object
Class Keter. This, however, is where things get even stranger. The SCP-4703 store has a rare secondary object
class, Truculent. This classification is likely to be unfamiliar
to most, but it is used in the specific situation when an item is unpredictable and often transformative,
and the containment measures around it must be consistently updated and evolved in order
to meet its containment needs. It has the Level 3 or Keneq Disruption Class,
meaning that it has a roughly medium potential to cause disruption, though this disruption
is likely to be confined to a relatively local area. And finally, it has the Risk Class Warning,
meaning that it presents a high risk to all who interact with it, complete with the possibility
of causing severe harm, including death. Though legally, due to a missive sent from
the law firm working in association with SCP-4703, I am obliged to tell you that it’s mainly
because the bargains at Yeah, We're Totally Going to Sell You This… are simply to die
for, which is perfectly legal, thank you very much. Now go and watch another entry from the classified
files of Dr. Bob, such as “SCP-5172 North American Hotel Ice Machines”, for another
SCP that will make you think twice about visiting common everyday locations. 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. A teenaged boy and girl are sitting on surfboards,
gently bobbing up and down in the calm ocean water. This surfing trip didn’t turn out nearly
as exciting as they had hoped it would, so with no waves in sight and the pair growing
bored, they decide to head back to shore. Just as they’re about to start paddling
back though, the girl gives one last look and spots the water swelling in the distance. She calls out for her friend to stop, it’s
just what they’ve been waiting for. Waves are coming in, and big ones too. They can see that they’re going to break
at the perfect time, maybe this trip will turn out to be a good one after all. The boy tells the girl that she can have the
first one and she starts paddling to catch it. She pops up on her board just as the wave
breaks, riding it expertly towards the shore as the boy does the same on his own behind
her. They have a great time, riding wave after
wave, each one coming in bigger and stronger than the last. The girl starts to worry though that they
might be getting too big and fast. As the girl finishes surfing another perfect
wave she looks back at the boy just in time to see him wipe out on an especially tall
one. He and his board are pulled beneath the water
and both disappear under the breaking wave. She hops off her own board and stands in the
waist deep water watching for her friend to emerge, but he doesn’t. She scans the horizon and calls out for him,
but there’s no sign of her friend. She’s getting worried, he should have surfaced
by now. She doesn’t see any sign of him or his board… What’s going on? “Boo!” The girl jumps with fright and turns around. The boy is standing behind her. But how did he get there? He tells her that the last wave was a crazy
one that must have pulled him and his board under the water towards her. He’s never experienced anything quite like
it, but he’s fine now, there is nothing to worry about. The girl, still trying to catch her breath
from the fright gives him a playful punch on the arm and recommends that they call it
a day. The waves are getting stronger and if he was
pulled under once, then who knows what would happen if one of them wiped out on an even
bigger one. Besides, the boy looks like he might have
hurt himself and the girl points at the small cut on his arm that’s starting to bleed. The boy tells her that it’s only a scratch,
and insists on catching one more wave before they head home. He doesn’t want to miss this opportunity
to ride these great waves when they have the whole ocean to themselves. He tells her that she can head back if she
wants, but he’s going out one more time. The boy starts to paddle back out and the
girl reluctantly follows him. As they wait to catch a wave she tells him
that this time he can go first. She’s not going to let him scare her again. The boy promises, no more surprises, and goes
to catch another wave. The waves are coming faster now and she’s
able to get on one right behind him. As she surfs towards the shore, she keeps
one eye on the boy. These waves are tough and she needs to focus,
but her attention is drawn towards her friend. She sees something forming on his wave. It looks like the water itself is growing
out of the crest of the wave and reaching towards the boy. It looks like… the jaws of a shark! The girl screams and the boy looks back, straight
into the gnashing teeth of the shark reaching out of the waves. The boy yells in fear and falls, tumbling
into the water just underneath the mouth as its jaws snap shut on his board right where
he was standing, splintering it into pieces. The girl can’t believe what she’s seeing
and stumbles on her board. She catches herself but looks behind her just
in time to see the same jaws coming out of the wave towards her. The boy emerges out of the water carrying
his friend onto the nearly empty beach. He lays her down in the sand, screaming for
help as a few beachgoers start running towards them. No one has any idea what they could possibly
do to assist though, both of the girl’s legs have been bitten off at the thigh, and
it’s clear she was dead long before he carried her onto the beach. … Bonjour! Today’s file comes from our friends at the
French branch of the SCP Foundation. A frightening and dangerous aquatic anomaly
that has been designated SCP-054-FR, but is appropriately also known as… Blue Fear. SCP-054-FR is an oceanic phenomenon that has
been observed occurring in several different regions spread across the world. In these areas, of which at leave five have
been identified, certain waves will display extremely dangerous anomalous activity. The waves themselves will seem to physically
transform, taking on a shape that resembles the mouth and jaws of a Carcharodon carcharias,
a species of shark better known to most as the Great White. The giant shark mouth, which is full of row
upon row of razor sharp teeth, will often go unnoticed until it is too late for the
unfortunate victim, with the roar of the powerful wave itself covering up much of the sound
of the gnashing jaws as it attempts to bite the targeted individual. The SCP-054-FR phenomenon will only appear
on waves in these areas that are at least four meters in height, but a maximum height
on which the jaws will manifest has yet to be identified. Waves carrying the anomalous effect are changed
in other ways too. Not only does a terrifying set of carnivorous
jaws appear out of the water, but the wave will move faster as well, with SCP-054-FR
waves having been measured at rolling three times the speed of normal, non-affected waves. The frequency of just how often SCP-054-FR
will affect waves is not well understood, but what is known, is that waves will speed
up when a human or non-aquatic animal is in the water between a wave instance and the
coast. The frequency of 054-FR waves will increase
dramatically as well when individuals in the area are at least 250 meters from the coast,
and SCP-054-FR does not care which aquatic activities you’re engaging in when it spots
you that far from shore. There have been documented cases involving
casual swimmers, snorkelers, and divers, but surfers are, for some unknown reason, far
and away the most likely victims. Observations have shown that non-aquatic animals
are also at risk of triggering the effect, such as in the case of several seabirds that
were seen floating on the water just before an SCP-054-FR wave crashed down on them and
the birds vanished, leaving only blood and feathers floating on the surface where they
once were. Even some aquatic vehicles like jet skis and
small boats have been observed being attacked by the anomalous shark jaws, though it seems
to avoid going after larger vessels. If more than one person is present in the
area that SCP-054-FR is manifesting though, then additional instances of the jaws are
able to form, either on the same wave or on multiple different ones in the area. The injuries caused by SCP-054-FR are very
similar to those of a normal, non-anomalous Great White Shark, and the force of the jaws
appears to be proportional to the size of the wave itself, with larger waves being more
powerful than smaller ones. Victims of 054-FR attacks have had entire
limbs ripped off, others were torn completely in half, while some simply disappeared beneath
the wave as it crashed down on top of them and the jaws snapped shut. The only way to avoid being bitten or swallowed
whole is to dive down under the wave before it impacts, but the opportunity to do so is
quite rare given the wave’s ability to “sneak up” on its victims, and the injuries that
are nearly always sustained from an appearance of SCP-054-FR are fatal in 68% of recorded
cases. The SCP Foundation first became aware of SCP-054-FR
following multiple reports of shark attacks caused by Great White’s emerging out of
the waves to attack humans before vanishing back into the water, and the Foundation soon
began a series of experiments to try and better understand the anomaly. The first test performed by Foundation researchers
was quite straightforward and involved dumping large quantities of animal blood into the
water in an area where SCP-054-FR was reported to have been attacking people. Just like with a normal shark, the blood seemed
to act as a trigger for the anomaly, causing it to manifest in less than two minutes and
the researchers watched as the shark jaws tried to bite at the blood as the wave rolled
over it. The test was repeated but this time human
blood was used instead. This also caused instances of SCP-054-FR to
appear on the waves, though now they manifested much faster, often showing up less than one
minute after the blood was dumped into the water. It seems that SCP-054-FR has a strong preference
for humans or at least their blood, and only a small amount is all that is needed to cause
the shark jaws to quickly appear. Tests involving D-Class personnel have shown
that wounded individuals are four times as likely to trigger a manifestation as an uninjured
individual, but that there are also ways to limit how often the carnivorous waves will
appear. It seems that lying motionless on the water
will significantly reduce how often SCP-054-FR will spawn, and slow body movements will decrease
the likelihood of an appearance as well. Strangely while blood will make the jaws manifest
quickly, it is unlikely that it is because SCP-054-FR can “smell” it, since tests
that have tried to disguise the smell of both the blood and the human test subjects have
all met with failure. So far, all attempts at damaging the anomaly
have also been unsuccessful. Bullets fired at the shark jaws pass harmly
through it, disappearing into the wave as if they were shooting at perfectly normal
water. Given its nature, it seems unlikely that the
Foundation will find a way to capture and contain SCP-054-FR, so for the time being
all containment efforts have been directed towards keeping humans away from it. A one kilometer exclusion zone has been established
around the five geographic areas where manifestations have been reported and civilians are completely
forbidden to access the areas under the guise of there being on-going research into marine
mammal life that would be disrupted by the presence of any humans. Secrecy is of the utmost importance when it
comes to SCP-054-FR in order to keep the curious away for their own safety, so any photographic
evidence of the anomaly is confiscated and destroyed, and witnesses of an SCP-054-FR
attack are given amnestics in order to remove the memory of any anomalous shark attacks
from their minds. The Foundation also engages in an extensive
misinformation campaign to debunk any evidence of the anomaly, spreading the idea that any
reports of a shark mouth forming on waves are simply hoaxes or misunderstanding of wave
dynamics, while attacks are blamed on normal, non-anomalous Great White Sharks. It is unknown if the five areas the Foundation
has contained make up the entirety of the locations where SCP-054-FR can manifest, but
Foundation agents continue to monitor reports of shark attacks around the world, and hopefully
they will find that they were the result of the regular oceanic super predator, and not
the kind that can manifest behind you when you least expect it. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-2846 The Squid and the Sailor, for another anomaly that will make
you never want to go into the ocean again. 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. “Honestly, no. It doesn’t feel like anything is working,”
the woman tells the man who is seated across the room from her. She’s been coming to see him for several
months now, but she doesn’t feel like she’s made progress on any of her issues. The man listens and nods as he jots down some
notes on his pad of paper. He has something he wants to discuss with
her. She may feel as though she’s run out of
options, but there is one other thing they could try. He’s seen lots of success using this with
his other patients, though it’s a technique that many would deem to be rather unconventional. The woman is unsure, “unconventional techniques”
don’t exactly instill her with confidence. But at this point, what did she have to lose? The man stands up and motions for the woman
to follow him. He leads her out of his office to a section
of his practice that she’s never seen before where they stop in front of a closed door. On the door is a window covered by a curtain
and she notices that there are a set of strong locks as well. He unlocks the door and ushers her inside
where she finds that it is a small room, maybe 10 feet across at most, with thick padding
on the floor and walls, and bright white lights set into the ceiling. He tells her to wait there just a moment and
to “make herself comfortable” before he excuses himself. The woman looks around at the padded room,
wondering just what it is that she’s agreed to. The man returns and now he’s holding something…
a garment bag. He unzips it to reveal a dark piece of clothing
inside, but when he takes it out, she sees now that it isn’t clothing at all, at least
not any normal kind… It's a straightjacket. The woman is scared, unsure if she wants to
go through with this and he does his best to put her at ease. If she’s uncomfortable she certainly doesn’t
have to do anything she doesn’t want to, but he reiterates that he has had great results
using this with some of his other patients. It’s been something of a miracle cure. Well no, cure is the wrong word. He corrects himself and explains that this
won’t “cure” her in the way that she’s probably thinking, but rather what he’s
found is that this therapy is able to provide a momentary relief from symptoms, a chance
to see what life is like without being plagued by the issues that have led her to seek his
help. Once she has gotten a glimpse at what life
is like without these burdens, they can work towards bringing her back to that point through
other therapies and techniques. This might be just the breakthrough she needs
to finally make something work. The woman is still skeptical but she is desperate
to find anything that will help her escape the thoughts constantly plaguing her mind
so that she can get back to being the person she wants to be, and after a moment of thought,
she agrees to go through with the procedure. The therapist tells the woman to hold her
arms out in front of her and places the straightjacket on her. She can see and feel now that it is made of
black leather, and it fits her perfectly, almost as if it were made just for her. She turns around and he pulls the straps tight
before fastening them in place. The woman, standing in the small padded room
and fully constrained by the black leather straightjacket, turns to the man and asks
“now what?” “Now we wait,” he tells her, before backing
out of the room. “A warning though -” “Now a warning?” she says. “This is a one-off procedure. You can only do it once,” he tells her before
closing the door. She’s confused, is this the procedure? He’s locking her in a cell? What is going on. She never should have agreed to this. Her mind starts to race, filling with bad
thoughts, and they get even worse when the lights suddenly go out. She starts to panic, breathing heavily in
the dark from both fear and from being constricted by the leather straightjacket. She calls out that she has changed her mind,
she doesn’t want to do this after all. No response. She’s serious, she wants to end this right
now and leave the room. It isn’t working, it’s actually making
her feel worse. All the fears and anxieties that plague nearly
every moment of her life come rushing in at once. Her mind races as she can feel all the tell
tale signs of a panic attack starting, a million little issues pulling her apart at the seams,
leaving her stretched out and helpless to do anything to stop it. But then suddenly, there’s a change. Like a cool breeze blowing across her face,
the feelings of hopelessness and despair start to dissipate. Her anxieties feel as though they are melting
away into the dark, leaving her with only the comforting embrace of the straightjacket. It isn’t that she feels happy necessarily,
she simply feels… normal. Content with herself and her situation. It’s an incredible feeling and she basks
in the joy of not feeling bad. She doesn’t know how long she’s in the
dark room feeling content, minutes, maybe hours? But eventually the door opens and the lights
come on. Her session is over. She leaves the office with a new perspective
on life. Most of the feelings of satisfaction have
already, but still, she feels renewed, ready to tackle her issues so she can feel what
she felt in the straightjacket again, so she can feel normal. By the next day though, her new lease on life
is completely gone, and she is on the phone with the man pleading with him to let her
come in immediately and wear the straightjacket again. He warned her though that it’s a one off
procedure, too much exposure is dangerous. She needs to focus on other treatments instead. The woman only wants to come wear it for a
little bit though. Just a few minutes to feel that way again. He tells her it’s impossible though. She should be happy it was so successful and
move on to new techniques. And besides, he’s leaving for a conference
and won’t be back for a week. They can discuss things again when he gets
back. It’s raining that night as a figure in a
dark coat breaks the glass on the front door and reaches through to unlock the door. The woman enters the office and hangs her
wet jacket on the wall. Her flashlight illuminates the room they have
their sessions in. No one is there. She walks deeper into the building and spots
the door to the padded room. She passes by and goes even further to a backroom
that she’s never been in before. In the room, against a wall, is a metal trunk. She opens it to find the dark garment bag
with the leather straightjacket inside. “What do you want me to do again?” the young man asks. He was just supposed to be delivering a pizza,
and his boss would be angry to learn that he allowed a customer to invite him in. “This is my office,” she tells him, “and
I’m working on some new techniques for my patients, but I need to try them out myself
first, that makes sense, right?” “Well sure, I guess,” he responds. “But for this particular one, I need some
help. It’s a secret though so I can’t get any
of my colleagues to help me. But you can help me, right?” The young man nervously swallows the soda
she’s given him and nods in agreement. She explains that all he has to do is help
her tighten the straightjacket, close the door, turn off the lights, and listen. In a little while when she’s finished, she’ll
ask him to come inside and take it off her. That’s it. The young man still seems a little weary of
the request, “what happened to your door?” he asks but she ignores his question and pushes
a wad of cash into his hand. The young man shuts the door to the padded
cell and a moment later the lights go out. The woman is almost immediately taken back
to the same mental place she was before. All of the thoughts that constantly repeat
in her mind, the ones that she's never able to turn off suddenly go quiet. She sighs with relief in her dark, safe space. But then she feels something. Not in her mind but on her face. A twitch. Just a little facial spasm. But then another. There’s something wrong. Her face suddenly feels very tight, like it’s
being stretched. Her eyes grow wide, her mouth pulls into an
unintentional sneer. The young man hears the woman’s muffled
cries from inside the room and opens the door, but what he sees causes him to emit his own
scream before he turns and runs out of the office into the stormy night. “What the heck?” the man thinks as he
looks at the broken window on his office door. He enters to see that the door is still unlocked
and that there’s glass on the floor inside. He walks inside his office and looks around
and doesn’t see anything, but in an instant there’s a moment of realization. He runs to the back, to the door to the padded
cell. The door to the room is ajar and he listens. Is that… breathing inside? He opens the door to the dark cell and turns
on the light. The black leather straightjacket is sitting
in the middle of the floor, except it isn’t the floor anymore. Now instead, a stretched layer of skin is
spread across the padded room, with the outline of flattened bones visible underneath. The man’s mind can’t comprehend what it
is that he’s looking at, but then he sees it. In the far corner of the room, is the stretched
out face of the woman, her eyelids pulled too tight to blink, leaving her eyes staring
up at him. Through a stretched, contorted mouth she whispers… “Help me.” Is there anything crueler than an object that
is able to treat your mental health issues, yet has some of the most devastating side
effects imaginable? In this humble doctor’s opinion… no. And today’s anomaly is just such an object. Designated SCP-482 it is perhaps better known… as the Mentally Mutating Straitjacket. SCP-482 is a black leather straightjacket
that is quite similar in appearance and construction to a mass produced version, though as you’ll
see, it is completely unique. Although the straightjacket is comparable
in size to other “medium” sized versions, it is somehow able to fit virtually any and
all body types and sizes. A tag inside contains the words “Made in
Tsiao-yan / Hand Wash Only / No Aserejena Powder” in faded text, though neither the
city nor “Aserejena powder” appear to exist in any records that the SCP Foundation
has been able to locate. There are no signs of wear on SCP-482, but
there are several cuts on the straps that cinch the garment closed, and testing has
shown that it is able to be further damaged, though any additional investigations of the
extent to which it can be damaged have been suspended due to the lack of viable duplicates. The real anomalous effects of SCP-482 occur
when the straightjacket is worn, and the two main effects, which occur one after the other,
have been designated as Time Point Alpha and Time Point Alpha Beta. Time Point Alpha is used to refer to the initial
stage of a subject wearing SCP-482, and can last a varied period of time, though it is
most often between one and six hours of wear. During this period, the subject will report
feeling “mentally better” and any negative mental afflictions that they suffer from or
are forced to deal with will appear to disappear completely. Additionally any medications they may be on
will have their effects negated entirely, leading to them returning a result on Foundation
standard psychological tests that is consistent with a baseline mentally stable individual. The effects of Time Point Alpha are temporary,
and once the subject is separated from SCP-482, any mental illnesses they are living with
will be seen to return, though they will disappear once more if the straightjacket is worn again. However, the amount of time a subject spends
experiencing the effects of Time Point Alpha are cumulative, and given enough time inside
of the straightjacket they will always eventually reach the second stage of SCP-482. Time Point Beta refers to the subsequent time
period that passes if a subject is still wearing SCP-482 once Time Point Alpha lapses. During this period, the changes to the subject
will no longer be mental, and instead they will begin to experience physical effects. The exact nature of the physical changes will
vary, though they do seem to be related in some way to the subject’s own mental health
issue, with the degree of the change also seemingly related to the severity of their
issue. Through the testing of SCP-482 by Foundation
researchers on D Class Personnel, a number of different manifestations of the straightjacket’s
anomalous effects have been documented and they’re recorded in a file designated Experiment
Log SCP-482. In the first test, a male D Class diagnosed
with schizophrenia was placed inside of the leather straightjacket. He immediately reported feeling “eerily
calm” and he was observed to simply sit and stare at the wall with a blank expression
for 2 hours and 49 minutes, a period which was later determined to be his Time Point
Alpha. Time Point Beta began one minute later at
2 hours and 50 minutes when the subject’s body began to contort and he remarked that
he was in a great deal of pain. Various parts of the subject's body began
to increase in mass and size, including his head, as his eyes began to bulge out. He called in agony while attempting to make
eye contact with the researchers who were observing through a glass viewing window for
34 minutes until a termination order was given. Subsequent examination of the subject’s
body revealed that his body mass had increased by roughly 180% due to rapid bone and muscle
growth. It’s unclear what physical process caused
this, though genetic tests showed that his DNA had abnormally shortened telomere strands. The observers also reported they experienced
an unnatural feeling that rendered them unable to move in a normal manner while the subject
was making eye contact with them. For the second test, another male D class,
though one who had been diagnosed with a paranoid personality disorder, was placed in the straightjacket. During his Alpha exposure, he reported a satisfying
“quiet in his head” with none of the disembodied voices that normally plagued his thoughts
speaking to him. He still appeared content after two hours
and was taken out of the suit, though after requesting to be placed back inside, was allowed
to return to wearing SCP-482. After an additional 1 hour and 30 minutes
though, the Beta exposure began. Visible bulges appeared on his neck and shoulders
and after four minutes, he began screaming for someone to “stop talking” and “get
out of [his] head.” More bulges appeared on his body and audio
recording equipment in the room picked up mysterious sounds that analysis has revealed
to have been as many as seven distinct voices speaking in an unknown language. The termination order was issued twenty five
minutes later and a later autopsy revealed that each bulge actually contained a fully
formed mouth and voice box. Observing researchers also reported that during
the test, they had seen flashes of movement in their peripheral vision, and subsequent
review of the taped footage revealed small shadows appearing and disappearing in the
room throughout the test. Next up was a female D class who had been
diagnosed with Hyperphagia, which is a disorder that can cause an extreme increase in appetite
and can remove the ability to satiate one's hunger. Upon being placed in SCP-482, she remarked
that “for the first time ever, I am actually full.” She felt this way for an hour and 58 minutes,
after which she began to feel a pain in her abdomen. The D class fell into the fetal position as
the pain increased, and her limbs were observed to begin retracting into her body, accompanied
by loud snapping sounds as presumably the bones started to crack and break. “Oh god it's eating me oh god it hurts!” she cried out, and a termination order was
immediately issued. The autopsy that followed revealed that the
woman’s body had somehow formed a second digestive system that had begun to consume
her own body mass, and if left unchecked, would have eventually digested it in its entirety. Following this test, the observing researchers
reported that they were unable to satisfy their own hunger cravings with normal amounts
of food, and several of them actually had to be restrained by security staff in the
on-site cafeteria. Luckily these urges appeared to fade after
several days. In the final test, a D Class personnel with
pyromania was placed in SCP-482. Despite the impulse control disorder normally
causing them to start fires whenever given the chance, they now ignored all of the flammable
materials offered to them by researchers. After one hour and 33 minutes though, thermometers
in the testing room noted a sudden sharp rise in temperature. This was followed by a powerful explosion
of heat and flames when the D Class spontaneously ignited. The testing room was completely destroyed
and nearby hallway A-13 suffered catastrophic damage. All observing researchers were also lost in
the conflagration. SCP-482, though, survived. Surprisingly, the body of the D Class was
also able to be recovered, and though the autopsy was made difficult due to the heat
it still exuded, a discovery was made. Inside the body, a new organ was found, one
that appeared to be sustaining some type of constant reaction that produced heat, as well
as strong magnetic waves, and this organ has been placed in containment for future study. SCP-482 is currently being kept in a containment
locker at a secure site, with access restricted to Level 2 personnel and above. The maximum time allowed for testing is 1
hour after mutations manifest, and any test subjects who reach Time Point Beta are to
be terminated. Following termination, SCP-482 is to be removed
from their body prior to autopsy. The straightjacket is then to be thermally
cleansed and all biological traces of the prior subject removed before it is used for
testing again. Now I bet you are telling yourself, well this
sounds pretty easy to contain, I bet this is a Safe Class anomaly, and normally I would
agree with you, but perhaps you noticed something strange in the Experiment Log. Did you pay attention to the reports from
observing researchers that they too had begun to experience some rather unusual effects,
simply from watching SCP-482 affect a subject? Did it seem to you as though the Mentally
Mutating Straitjacket was somehow projecting the mental illnesses experienced by the subjects
onto those observing it? It appears that there may be more to SCP-482
than first meets the eye, and this mystery only deepens when one reads the containment
procedures on this anomaly’s file and realizes that the person overseeing SCP-482 research…
is none other than SCP Foundation legend Dr. Bright. Is the actual testing of SCP-482 not actually
taking place on the D Class personnel, but on the SCP Foundation researchers? A convoluted experiment designed to discover
the true extent of its anomalous effects? When it comes to this Euclid Class anomaly,
only Dr. Bright knows for sure. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-767 Crime Scene Photographs, for another inanimate object that appears
to actually be quite active. 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. As night falls, everything sinks into a soft,
blue darkness under a blanket of twinkling stars. In a nice, cozy home, in a normal quiet suburb,
a sweet little boy is being read a bedtime story by his mother. It’s a classic: Little Red Riding Hood,
the story of a little girl traveling through the woods to her grandmother’s house, only
to be set upon by the big, bad wolf. A tale as old as time, with an important message
for people of all ages. We should fear what lurks in the dark, since
what is there is often waiting and watching with hungry eyes. As the boy lays in bed, clutching the top
of his blanket, his mother continues telling him the tale. She describes the tiny girl in the red hood,
holding a little wicker basket, stumbling through the dark. The wolf, with its big, hungry eyes, weaves
through the darkness of the trees, following her every move. The little boy can barely contain his fear
when Little Red Riding Hood opens the door to her grandmother’s old cottage and creeps
inside, where she realizes that something is very wrong. Her grandmother looks… different. Those great, big eyes. That twitching, wet, black nose. Those huge, terrible teeth, dripping with
saliva. “All the better to eat you with, my dear…” His mother senses that her son isn’t taking
this well and notices that he’s shuddering underneath the blankets. She closes the book, smiles, and insists that
the story has a happy ending. This does nothing to ease the growing specter
of fear stretching out over the boy. Could the big bad wolf be waiting outside
his window, watching him with those red, ravenous, eyes? Would the window really keep such a monster
at bay? He doesn’t feel so sure… The little boy’s mother kisses him on the
forehead and tells him that if he needs anything, she and his father are just down the hall. He’s been having nightmares lately, but
that’s all they are. Nightmares. All in his head. Nothing in there could actually hurt him. He’s alone now, shivering in bed, trying
to focus on the light of his tiny night light plugged into his wall, a little glowing friend
that will watch over him and keep him safe. His mom and dad got it for him when he told
them he was afraid of the dark. But there’s still a lot more dark in this
room than light. His closet door suddenly creaks open and he
bites his tongue to stifle a scream. It’s an old door, it opens by itself sometimes,
“there’s nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all.” It’s a mantra his parents had drilled into
him on prior instances when this door had creaked open. Even in the dark, the little boy can make
out something. It looks like one of the many other shadows
created by his night light, but it’s different. Something darker than the dark, and it’s
moving, sliding out of his closet. A fog shaped like some unknowable creature. “There’s nothing to worry about, nothing
to worry about at all,” he tells himself over and over again. The fog leaves the closet entirely and it
starts getting closer to the boy’s bed. As it rises up from the floor the boy can
see something in the fog. He can see eyes. Big, glowing, hungry eyes. Like the eyes of a big, bad wolf, ready to
eat him alive. He opens his mouth to scream, but only a yawn
comes out. He wants to get up and run to his parents’
room down the hall, but his body feels so heavy, his movements so slow and sluggish. He can’t move and the eyes of the monster
made of dark keep getting closer. “There’s nothing to worry about, nothing
to… Mom… Dad… Please, help me…” All he can do is think about screaming, not
actually make any noise, as his eyes shut and he drifts off into the land of dreams… He opens his eyes to find that he’s standing
in a dark and endless forest. The trees are tall, extending up into a black
and starless sky. But there’s something wrong with them: Bodies,
hundreds of them, old and dessicated, are speared onto their branches, their faces locked
into what looks like permanent, silent screams. A thick, viscous black liquid drips from some
of the bodies, pooling into what looks like puddles of tar around his feet. When he looks down, he sees that he’s wearing
strange, old-fashioned clothes. His shirt is bright red. There’s a low, bassy growling behind him. Like thunder. Like a rumbling earthquake. Primal and deadly. He can feel it vibrating in his bones. Moving slowly, as though he was underwater,
he turns and sees the beast looming behind him. A giant, wolf-like monster made from shadows,
teeth cut from jagged black glass, eyes glowing and hungry. He’s never been so terrified in his life
as he is right now, standing in front of this monster that seemed to be the literal embodiment
of fear. The embodiment of deep, animal terror. The beast that haunts the dreams of every
frightened boy and girl. It growls again and he begins to run. But it’s not real running, it’s dream
running as if the gravity were too strong. Slow and cumbersome through the thick, confining
air. He keeps pushing through the resistance all
around him, but the wolf made of shadows can quickly. It weaves through the trees, it’s mouth
dripping wet with hunger, its eyes emitting a dim glow like the night light back in his
bedroom. He runs for what feels like hours, tears streaking
down his cheeks, until finally, he can see salvation in the distance: A house standing
in the middle of a clearing in the woods. But not just any house, it’s his house. In the logic of the dream, he knew that his
mom and dad would be inside. They’d help him. They’d keep him safe from the monster. He just needs to get there. He just needs to survive. He finally reaches the front door and tries
to open it but it’s locked, so he hammers his fists against the wood, screaming and
crying for his parents. He looks over his shoulder and sees the shadow
wolf charging towards him through the darkness of the woods, its huge dark feet hitting the
ground with the speed and force of gunshots. Getting closer, and closer, and closer… With one final desperate pound of his fist,
the door to his home finally swings open, and he falls through. The door closes behind him as he hits the
floor and the sound of the wolf is gone. He gets up and looks out of a nearby window
to see that there’s no forest outside, just his neighborhood again, underneath a starless
sky. He looks down and sees he’s not wearing
those strange, old-fashioned clothes anymore, just the same pyjamas he’d worn to bed. Are things back to normal now? Had it all been a dream? He tries a nearby light switch, but nothing
happens. Still dark. That dread comes creeping back in, if it had
been a dream, what did that make this? He starts making his way up the stairs, calling
out to his mom and dad, but there’s no response. He climbs further, walking down the hallway
towards their bedroom door. The hallway seems so much longer than he remembered
it, but for some reason, he never stops to question the discrepancy. He just wants his mother and father. Not long after, the little boy reaches the
door to his parents’ bedroom and opens it. The room is so dark, but he can make out their
forms lying in the bed. He approaches, calling for them again, but
there’s no response. Instead he just hears an awful wheezing sound
- like air being let out of a balloon. When his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees
that something is terribly wrong with both of his parents: They’re now old and thin,
with sickly, yellowing skin hanging from their bones. Their eyes, milky with cataracts, are set
deep in their jaundiced faces. The mere sight of them forces a gasp out of
him. Their heads slowly turn with audible crunches. Their chests rise and fall in those same slow,
mechanical exhalations. They both look like life hurts for them now. The little boy begins to cry. They beckon him closer, wanting to comfort
him, but he’s too terrified of their appearance to take a single step towards them. His mother opens her thin-lipped mouth, revealing
rotten teeth, and says… “Sweetheart… I’m so sorry, but mommy and daddy can’t
take care of you anymore. We can’t even be here for much longer, we
need to go. I’m sorry that we don’t have more time…” The little boy can see his parents ageing
by the second, getting thinner and frailer and sicker right in front of him. His pity and fear outweighs his revulsion,
and he steps forward to embrace them. They’re so terribly cold. He grips his mother’s hand, but he can feel
the bones turning to dust inside her paper-thin skin. “It’s going to be okay, darling,” she
whispers, her voice hoarse and brittle in her final moments. “Your grandmother will take care of you
from now on…” That’s when he hears it behind him again. That terrible low rumble, the primal growl. As his parents both turn to dust in their
bed, he turns and sees the monster, the same wolf made of shadows, filling up the doorway. It seems even bigger in here, bulging through
the doorway, thick, black saliva dripping from its obsidian fangs. He tries to repeat that same mantra to himself,
“There’s nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all.” But suddenly, he’s short of breath, as an
immense, shadowy claw closes around his torso. It lifts him up off the ground, until he can
feel the beast’s breath on his face. But it isn’t hot, like it should be. It’s freezing, like a gust of wind in the
deep snow. With a deep, commanding voice, the monster
says, “Only lucky children get to wake up from a dream like this. And not everyone can be lucky…” All he can do is scream when the wolf’s
jaws close around his head, but not a soul can hear him. He’s swallowed up into the darkness of the
monster, and soon, he’s nothing at all. In the waking world, the sun rises, morning
birds caw and tweet. Alarms go off. But when the little boy’s mother checks
his bed that morning, it’s empty. He’s vanished, without a trace. In the panic of the days, weeks, and months
that follow, in the extensive search that turns up nothing, and that unlucky little
boy was never seen again. It never even occurs to his parents to ask:
“Did we leave that closet door open?” Did you suffer from bad dreams as a child? Night terrors? There’s no shame in it; it’s not an uncommon
affliction, after all. Perhaps there’s a hazy, half-formed memory
in your mind of waking up screaming when your parents’ turned on the lights, comforting
you, telling you that it was just a bad dream and nothing more. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was SCP-080? This vaporous entity, nicknamed the “Dark
Form” by some who have worked with it, is every child’s worst nightmare - And, if
you give it a chance, every adult’s worst nightmare, too. That’s because this black, smoke-like figure
has the anomalous ability to induce extreme drowsiness in anyone who spends more than
half an hour near it in the dark. Shortly after falling asleep, if nobody comes
in and rescues the victim by turning on the lights, they will experience the most horrible
nightmares you can possibly imagine. So horrible, in fact, that those who have
suffered these nightmares and survive often experience irreperable, lifelong psychological
trauma. And in the grand scheme of things, those are
still the lucky ones. If you’re unlucky, like the little boy who
vanished from his bed, you’ll disappear forever - Consumed by SCP-080. The creature itself is difficult to properly
see, due to its lack of consistent form and due to the fact that it only appears in the
darkness, but those who have witnessed it can only seem to remember one key detail:
Glowing eyes in the smoke. Because of its preference for dark places,
SCP-080 often takes refuge in closets and under the bed, where it can vanish out of
sight. Bright light automatically causes the creature
to disappear and manifest elsewhere, and therefore, should you start feeling unusually drowsy
in the dark, turning on the lights is the best thing to do. But these must be bright lights, the soft
glow of a standard children’s night light is not powerful enough to ward off the creature. The SCP Foundation conducted a series of experiments,
hoping to see whether SCP-080 had any kind of real physical body, and if it was possible
for human beings to safely interact with it. In the first of these experiments, a 19-year-old
male D-Class was sent into the chamber to interact with SCP-080. Unsurprisingly, he immediately became extremely
distressed upon seeing the figure with glowing eyes forming in the dark. He described it as being human-shaped, but
far too big to be a human. He begged to be released from the chamber,
but by this point, he’d already started yawning and the drowsiness was setting in. The researchers running the experiment wanted
to see what would happen next though, and eventually his pleas to be released fell silent
as he drifted off to sleep. When guards were finally sent in to check
on him they found… nothing at all. Nothing remained of the D-Class. He’d been consumed by SCP-080, just like
so many others. Next, a thirty year old female D-Class was
sent into SCP-080’s chamber. When she was able to make out the vaporous
form with the glowing eyes, she was instructed to try and physically touch it. She followed the orders, however, upon touching
the entity directly, she immediately fell unconscious. She was quickly retrieved from the room since
The Foundation wanted to make sure they could interview her rather than letting SCP-080
consume her. According to a physical exam given to her
by the Foundation medics, she’d experienced no physical effects. Her mind, on the other hand, was a very different
story. She’d vacillate wildly between a state of
borderline catatonia and extreme paranoid distress. In a debriefing meeting with a Foundation
researcher, she had difficulty recounting what exactly had happened during her test
with SCP-080. When she did begin to recollect, she started
screaming in terror, and yelling about how they would try to take her back to the monster. Then, without warning, she leaped across the
table and began to attack the researcher, forcing the attending guards to intervene,
and unfortunately, they were forced to terminate her. It seemed as though this was always the intended
effect of her outburst. She preferred death from a Foundation guard
over experiencing SCP-080 again. The testing continued though, and a third
subject was sent into the room: A 24-year-old D-Class male, dosed on a powerful amphetamine
to hopefully ward off the drowsiness-inducing effects of SCP-080. This didn’t appear to work though, and over
time, the same sleepiness started to set in. The amphetamine, however, still caused elevated
levels of aggression, and the D-Class began to express violent intent towards SCP-080. He approached the vaporous mass and attempted
to strike it, but when his fist touched the entity he immediately collapsed. When his body was retrieved, it was found
that he died of a sudden massive heart attack. During the autopsy, as Foundation staff examined
his body, they reported feeling a profound sense of discomfort and unease, as though
they were being watched. The retrieval team also reported feeling acutely
aware of SCP-080 watching them as they exited the chamber with the final D-Class’ body. The mere presence of SCP-080 then started
causing problems for some staff members at the containment site. The researchers assigned to SCP-080 reported
strange and unsettling dreams and that they were occurring at an unusually frequent level,
disrupting their sleep patterns and, by extension, their work performance. This led to them discovering the possibility
that SCP-080 may have some kind of hazardous memetic effect that can linger among its victims
even when they aren’t in its direct proximity. After the lead researcher on the team walked
into traffic and sadly passed away, it was made mandatory for all staff members working
in SCP-080’s sector to keep comprehensive dream journals, so that the emergence of patterns
of violent or unsettling dreams could be detected before things got too out of hand - just like
they had with the lead researcher. However, the lead researcher would not be
the last to lose his life to SCP-080. Two researchers stood just beyond the blackout
curtains, observing SCP-080 for forty minutes, believing that the divider would keep them
safe from SCP-080’s negative anomalous effects. They were terribly wrong. Both apparently fell asleep in the observation
area, and when another researcher later entered the room, they discovered that their bodies
were gone. However, strangely enough, everyone working
in that sector of the site found that they did have a better night’s sleep after the
incident. Staff were reminded to exercise maximum caution
whenever interfacing with SCP-080. Their direct exposure should never exceed
thirty minutes under any circumstances - Even the section of staff members that, for some
reason, are completely unable to see SCP-080 and appear to somehow be immune to its effects. Considering the fact that everyone around
the site started feeling better after the strange incident concerning the two missing
researchers, researchers have sought 05 Council permission to “feed” a D-Class to the
monster once a month in order to negate the damaging effects it has on site staff mental
health. Despite the protests of the ethics committee,
a member of the council approved the measure. SCP-080 is contained in a 4 meter by 4 meter
room with a smaller antechamber located on the south wall for easy research access; there’s
also an observation room on the north wall, separated with black-out curtains to prevent
light from getting in and dispersing SCP-080. Containment procedures dictate that SCP-080
should never, under any circumstances, be removed from the chamber. Any light-producing devices are also forbidden. While the Foundation currently has this monster
under lock and key, all it would take is a stray ray of light to free it once more, which
has warranted it being given the Euclid containment class. All members of staff are also kindly reminded
to stop referring to this creature as “The Boogeyman.” After all, there’s a lot of power in giving
a fear-manipulating creature a name like that, and the last thing we want is SCP-080 having
more power than it already has… Now go and watch another entry from the classified
files of Dr. Bob, like “SCP-1471 MalO ver1.0.0” for another SCP won’t leave you alone once
it has you in its sights. 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. A construction worker puts the final nail
into the wall of the room he’s working on. He stands up and admires his work. This is going to be a beautiful hotel one
day, a true triumph for not just him, but the entire country, and he’s proud that
he got to play a small part in its construction. He starts to pack up his tools, there’s
plenty more rooms that need work. It’s a massive structure that will ultimately
hold thousands. What a modern marvel. As he finishes putting away his tools, he
notices something. Through the still doorless frame, he sees
someone walk by in the hallway. Normally he wouldn’t think anything of it,
there’s plenty of other people working on this floor of the hotel, but there’s something
about this woman… could it be? No, it’s not possible. He takes out his wallet and opens it. Inside is a faded photograph of the construction
worker when he was still a young man, barely more than a boy really. Standing next to him in the picture is the
most beautiful woman he had ever known. She was his first true friend, his best friend,
and he always hoped that maybe it would turn into something more. They grew up together, shared so many experiences,
but then ultimately they were separated and lost touch. He was never able to find her again, but as
the picture in his wallet shows, he never stopped thinking about her. Could it really be her though? He runs into the hallway and calls out. The woman stops at the end of the hallway
and turns around. She’s carrying a tall stack of boxes that
are blocking her face. She sets them down and he sees… that it
really is her! They run towards each other, laughing like
children, like the way they used to, and embrace in the middle of the hall. He can’t believe it, it’s been so many
years! He never thought he would see her again. How long has it been? “Too long,” she tells him. He can’t believe how little she’s changed. The years have hardly taken any toll on her,
she’s just as lovely and beautiful as that last day he saw her. He asks her where she’s been, what she’s
been doing, is she… married? She tells him no, and that after they lost
touch, she feels like she has just been looking for him, waiting for the day she would randomly
see him pass by on the street, so that they could reconnect. She just never thought it would happen that
they’d be working in the same place at the same time. The construction worker can’t believe it
either. They both start to ask each other something
at the same time, but then stop and laugh at speaking over each other. “You go first” he tells her, “no you”
she responds with a laugh. Just then they’re both interrupted by the
sound of a whistle. The work is finished for the day. That’s the signal to pack up and go home. The construction worker tells her to wait
there, he just has to go grab his tools and then the two of them can go down together. But as he turns to leave she reaches out and
grabs his hand. “Wait” she tells him. He stops and turns back to her. “It’s ok” he tells her, “I’ll be
right back” but she doesn’t seem to want to let go of his hand. “Please, not yet” she tells him. “I just want you to stay with me.” He looks down at his hand. She’s gripping him so tight that it starts
to hurt a little. “Really, I’ll just be a second,” he
tells her, “then we can go somewhere and catch up.” But still she won’t let go of his hand. “I need you” she tells him.She steps close
to him, pressing her body against his. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth and
he feels himself doing the same. “I’ve always needed you…” she says
as their mouths are about to meet. “I need you forever.” The construction worker screams as the tiny
tendrils emerge from the woman’s body and plunge into his flesh. He opens his eyes to see the girl he once
knew morphing into a writhing mass of fibers, each reaching out towards him. A long tentacle-like appendage wraps itself
around his legs before whipping up and around his body, constraining him, as a second tentacle
wraps around his head, stifling his screams, before popping his head off of his body. North Korea… it’s a country that’s shrouded
in mystery, whose government, culture, and day to day life is a black box to many foreigners. But there’s another secret inside, one that
even the SCP Foundation is desperate to get to the bottom of, one that they know as SCP-031. SCP-031 is a massive organism, estimated to
weigh more than 7,500 kilograms, that can currently be found in a very surprising location… the Ryugyong Hotel which is located in Pyongyang, the capital of Democratic People's Republic
of Korea. The giant creature lives within the ductwork
and maintenance infrastructure of the building where it has spread to all 105 floors of the
hotel. Each of its many tendrils ends in a pod-like
growth called a sporocarp, which are approximately two meters in length and covered in many cilia-like
structures. Subjects have reported that when in the presence
of these sporocarp, they don’t see them as the writhing mass of organic matter that
they really are, but rather as an individual from their past, often with one whom they
shared an intense emotional attachment. When taking this form, the sporocarp will
try to convince the subject to remain with them for an extended period of time. The sporocarp will then attempt to make physical
contact with the subject, and if successful, its cilia-like structures will begin injecting
digestive juices directly into the subject. This will lead to the start of a process that
will eventually cause their flesh to be broken down, consumed, and then incorporated into
SCP-031’s body mass. Unfortunately for the victim, this horrific
process does not kill them. At the same time they are being digested,
a flagellum, which is a tentacle-like appendage, will emerge from the sporocarp and wrap around
the subject’s head. This flagellum has its own set of tiny tendrils
that penetrate the cranial cavity and replace the victim’s brain's blood vessels, which
has the effect of keeping the brain alive and functioning. The head is then removed from the body and
the brain is transported to the central mass of the SCP-031 organism, where it too is incorporated
into the creature. It is estimated by Foundation researchers
that SCP-031’s mass contains thousands of such brains, and by all appearances, they
are still alive… and conscious. The Foundation first became aware of SCP-031
in 1948, following reports of police activity in North Korea at a location where multiple
citizens had gathered near a refugee camp. Those gathered were proclaiming their love
for a cult-like leader they referred to as “The Beloved.” The civilians were able to be calmed through
the use of gas based tranquilizers and amnestics by Mobile Task Force Psi-7, who then recovered
a mass that would later be known as SCP-031 and secured it at a local containment site. The SCP-031 creature only weighed 75 kilograms
at this time, and still had a vaguely human shape. It did not seem to be able to incorporate
other matter into its form at this point either, nor could it take on other people’s forms,
with its only anomalous effect seeming to be its ability to inspire intense feelings
of love and devotion. The breakout of the Korean War in 1950 led
to the destruction of the Foundation containment site, and all anomalies housed there escaped. Following the end of the war in 1953, all
of the escaped anomalies were accounted for, all except SCP-031, which was presumed dead. Little more thought was given to the terminated
anomaly until 1992, when the SCP Foundation caught wind of reports describing numerous
fatalities involving workers at the Ryugyong Hotel. A Mobile Task Force was sent to the hotel
to investigate further, but after none of the members returned from the mission, the
hotel was locked down and all construction was halted until further notice. By 2008, the increased infestation of the
still windowless hotel led to local officials starting construction again to finish the
building’s exterior and hopefully hide the presence of SCP-031 within, which led to the
deaths of even more workers. It’s estimated that at its peak infestation,
more than 75% of the hotel’s 3,000 rooms were infested by SCP-031, but reclamation
efforts have been able to reduce that number substantially. Flame projecting equipment is able to destroy
SCP-031 tendrils and sporocarps, as well as any personnel who have become assimilated
into SCP-031. Reclamation efforts are ongoing and local
officials continue to work with the SCP Foundation to facilitate the ultimate containment or
neutralization of the entity. But there’s one more strange twist to this
story. The more astute SCP experts may have noticed
the similarities to SCP-1427, a large slab of beryllium bronze with mind altering effects
that is also located within the Ryugyong Hotel. How is it that two anomalies, both of which
strongly impact the human brain, are both somehow housed at the same location? Some clues exist in the form of a classified
communication chain between two senior members of Foundation staff. The two discuss the obvious discrepancies
that exist when there are records of two anomalies both existing at the same place at the same
time, with neither file referencing the other. It leads to a strange paradox where for one
to exist, the other isn’t able to. And yet, they both do exist. Teams sent to investigate SCP-1427 will find
SCP-1427, and teams sent to investigate SCP-031 will find SCP-031, and yet the first team
will have no memory of seeing SCP-031, and vice versa. When the teams were sent at the same time,
they were unable to find each other, as if they were existing in parallel dimensions,
each with its own version of the Ryugyong Hotel housing its own version of an SCP classified
anomaly. Do both anomalies exist? Or perhaps neither of them do? And both SCPs are in fact the result of a
third, as yet unknown anomaly? The answer to that question remains unknown,
at least to the two senior members of staff who were communicating about the contradictory
files. Both were relieved of their duties under… well… suspicious circumstances, and for the time being, both files continue to exist
in the database, just as both anomalies seem to exist in the Ryugyong Hotel. For now, this Euclid class anomaly continues
to be contained as well as it can be within the ducts and maintenance shafts of the Hotel’s
central spire. The three secondary spires each contain a
Type-9 Heaven's Blade Restriction System that focuses a disruptive energy field towards
the central spire. This system prevents SCP-031's psychic energies
from escaping the structure and affecting any off-site personnel, as North Korean teams
continue to push back against the spreading tendrils in the hopes that one day they will
finally be able to open the hotel. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-024 Game Show of Death, for another anomalous location that is both
strange, and very, very dangerous. 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. A violent storm rocks a merchant ship back
and forth. Huge waves roll over the deck and threaten
to capsize the vessel. A merchant sailor grips the railing, trying
with all his might not to be thrown overboard. With a loud twang a cable snaps loose. A hand suddenly grabs his shoulder. He turns around with a fright to see that
it's one of his shipmates. He points towards the bow of the ship and
yells over the roar of the storm that they need to try and repair it. The two men make their way to the front of
the ship and the sailor starts working to fix the broken cable. He looks up to see that his mate is no longer
working. He’s staring straight past him, and there’s
fear in his eyes. The sailor turns around to see a massive tentacle
sticking out of the sea. The huge appendage is mind boggling in its
size. He can only stand there, marveling at it,
until it begins violently smashing against the deck. The sailor dives out of the way just before
the tentacle crashes down right where he was standing… where his crewmate was still locked
in fear. The ship is in chaos as more tentacles appear
and slam the deck over and over. One cracks the deck right next to him, sending
him flying. He comes to moments later in a wreckage pile. Nothing else has changed though. Whatever this monster is, it's not stopping
its assault on the ship. The sailor stands up and picks up a sharpened
piece of wood from the pile he was lying in. He runs over to the nearest tentacle and thrusts
the sharpened stick into its flesh. There’s a mighty roar from the sea and the
tentacles stop their onslaught. They go limp before sliding into the sea. The sailor looks around at the carnage that’s
been wrought. Dead bodies and debris litter the deck. He moves to check on his crewmates when right
in front of him, bursting from the sea, is the head of the biggest squid he has ever
seen. A massive beast that must be a thousand meters
long. Whatever he had seen before of this creature,
was truly just the tip of the iceberg. With another roar the creature lifts up out
of the water and wraps its arms around the ship. The sailor only has time to duck down and
close his eyes before the entire ship is pulled down beneath the waves. With a gasp the sailor breaks the surface,
screaming and gulping for air. He’s alone now, treading water in the middle
of the ocean during a storm. But not for long. The squid reappears, its head slowly rising
out of the water just in front of him. It’s head, the size of a house, has two
giant, uncaring black eyes that seem to both see him and not. It extends a tentacle toward him as it leans
back in the water, exposing its huge, beaked mouth. It wraps its powerful arms around him and
starts to pull him towards it when suddenly there’s an explosion. The squid has been struck by something. Both the sailor and the creature turn to see
the most incredible thing. A battleship is coming towards them, slowly
rising out the ocean as if it were somehow submerged. And it's firing on the creature. The squid drops him and starts heading towards
the ship. This is going to be a battle for the ages. While this sailor had no idea what he was
witnessing, the SCP Foundation was all too familiar. This was yet another incident of SCP-2846…
also known as… The Squid and the Sailor. But first, a quick personal request from me. I need your help to spread the word about
the lesser known anomalies in the SCP Foundation’s archives. The best thing you can do to help me is subscribe,
turn on notifications, and then go tell your friends to do the same. This is a huge help and will let me bring
you more and more SCP anomalies. Now, back to our file. SCP-2846 is the name given to a set of phenomena
that occur in the Gulf-Atlantic region. These phenomena consist of interactions between
two entities, known as SCP-2846-A and SCP-2846-B. 2846-A is a gigantic, aquatic creature that
resembles a cephalopod, though no similar organism has been discovered that is even
close to approaching its size, with estimates placing 2846-A at being at least 950 meters
in length. This creature appears in areas of deep water
during storms and will attack civilian vessels, especially cruise ships and merchant vessels. These attacks are sporadic and follow no known
patterns other than that they take place during inclement weather. They are sudden and without warning, and will
nearly always result in the complete destruction of the targeted vessel if they’re not intercepted. Attempting to stop these attacks is SCP-2846-B,
a large seafaring vessel that in its current form, resembles a Pennsylvania-Class super-dreadnought
battleship, though it appears hazy in photos and videos, as if it translucent, and eye
witness observers have described the ship as looking “vaporous.” Just like SCP-2846-A, this ship will appear
from deep water, surfacing near the site of a 2846-A event. The vessel will fire on the creature, drawing
its attention, and the two will then engage in a heated battle. The two will continue fighting until SCP-2846-A
is rendered immobile or completely incapacitated, after which it will sink down into the sea. Following its victory, the ship too will then
submerge and disappear beneath the waves. SCP-2846-A is believed to have existed for
thousands of years, and may be even older than that. The creature’s existence was first recorded
in an Icelandic saga from the 13th century, but the Foundation’s first documented sighting
came in 1905 when an agent working for the Foundation, one Admiral Reginald Von Allen,
spotted the creature surfacing with a whale wrapped effortlessly in its tentacles. Soon after spotting it, a ship-of-the-line
surfaced as well to do battle with the creature. The Admiral tried to signal the crew that
he could see on the deck of the ship, but the vessel descended back below the surface
before any communication could take place. In 1935, the mysterious ship appeared again,
near the SCPS Hildegard, and this time the anomalous vessel was the one to initiate communication. Some of the crew of the ship, designated as
SCP-2846-B1 through B915, came aboard the Foundation ship and engaged in a conversation
with Captain Levi Hanson. SCP-2846-B1 identified himself as David Thomas
Jones of the Royal Navy, and went on to explain that their ship had been sunk by a monster
resembling SCP-2846-A over 300 years in the past. He described how after sinking into the darkness
of the sea, he awoke on a mysterious shore where he met with a woman who referred to
herself as Calypso, the goddess of the sea. She explained how she had sealed the leviathans
that prowled the depths of the ocean in a pit, but that over time, the seal she had
placed on it had begun to weaken. A titan had escaped and taken the form of
the most deadly creature in the sea… the kraken. Calypso feared that the creature would attempt
to further destroy the seal and release its monstrous brethren, a disaster that would
result in the end of all human life. She requested that Jones pursue the creature
along with his crew for as long as needed, and in return they would be granted immortality. Jones agreed, and his endless battle against
the anomaly began that day. The reason he had now come aboard a foundation
ship was directly related to this task. SCP-2846-A had grown more powerful over the
years, larger, and bolder too. He and his men couldn’t die, but many more
would if they were no longer able to subdue the beast. He needed something from the SCP Foundation… He needed a bigger boat. Following this conversation, and seeing the
value in allowing Jones and his crew to continue their mission, the Foundation commandeered
a newly built Pennsylvania-class super-dreadnought battleship from the US Navy - The USS Montana. The ship was sunk 15 kilometers from a Foundation
naval facility in Cuba. Thirty hours later, the ship surfaced from
the sea, though it was now more heavily armed than the USS Montana had been. As part of the agreement, SCP-2846-B was fitted
with an explosive device that is capable of completely destroying the ship should the
crew for some reason ever turn their guns on Foundation or other human targets. In 2013, an important discovery was made after
a tracker was attached to SCP-2846-A. Deep in the Atlantic, roughly 1,300 nautical miles
west of Florida, a depression in the ocean floor with a large iron object on top of it
was found. 2846 seems to return to this site over and
over where it has been observed clearing the rocks from the area. And it appears that it is almost finished
with its task. The iron plate on top of the depression is
nearly exposed. It’s not known exactly what’s underneath,
but whatever it is, it’s hot, very hot, with temperatures near it measured at over
4,000 degrees celsius. It’s feared that whatever the creature is
trying to unearth, it would lead to an XK end of the world scenario, and it is imperative
that it not be allowed to do so. And there’s more bad news when it comes
to SCP-2846. In 2014, the Foundation ship SCPS Pristine
was pursuing a large underwater organism assumed to be SCP-2846-A and signaled to 2846-B to
surface and dispatch the creature, in what had become the normal operating procedure. Something strange happened though, and the
Pristine was suddenly struck by a mysterious force. As SCP-2846-B began to engage with the now
surfaced 2846-B, the crew of the Pristine reported seeing numerous eyes appearing and
disappearing in the water below the ship. They had never seen anything like it. The ship was struck again as satellite images
spotted an enormous entity directly beneath the ship. The Pristine began taking on water and the
crew was forced to abandon ship. Two other SCP ships in the area fired on the
strange, many-eyed entity, causing it to once again disappear into the depths of the ocean
as SCP-2846-B banished 2846-A to the ocean once again. Due to the ongoing danger of SCP-2846-A, it
has been classified as Keter. In the event of an appearance, Mobile Task
Force Tau-11, also known as the Can Openers, who are stationed aboard the SCPS Nikolai
are to utilize a special transmission device to signal the crew of SCP-2846-B and maintain
contact with them throughout their engagement with the creature. Tau-11’s primary mission is to minimize
civilian exposure to the anomaly, and any non Foundation ships that come in contact
with either 2846 entity are to be moved from the area, and all aboard the craft are to
be given Class C amnestics. The SCPS Nikolai’s captain has been given
permission to fire on SCP-2846-A to assist in the fight, and should 2846-B turn hostile
for any reason, the explosive device on board is to be detonated. It is still unknown just the entity that attacked
and destroyed the SCPS Pristine was, but the ease with which it dispensed of the vessel
has many in the Foundation worried that SCP-2846-A has already been able to release one of its
brethren from its prison, and at this point, stopping them may no longer be an option. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, and once again, please join me on my mission by subscribing, turning on notifications,
and telling a friend join us as well, as we delve further and further into the SCP Foundation’s
classified archives. Ashen-faced villages walk in a solemn line
down a long, dirt road. The light from their torches makes their face
into masks of shadows. They chant in an ancient and arcane language
as they move in a procession towards the darkened cemetery on the edge of the village. It’s an unpleasant duty, but a burden that
they must carry nonetheless. In the middle of the procession is the one
being honored tonight: One of the village elders. And in this village, to be an elder is a truly
special thing. From his wizened, creaking body, his deep-set
eyes, milky with cataracts, his almost transparent, liver-spotted skin, it would appear that he
is in his nineties. But, in fact, he is over 300 years old. The other villagers pass ghostlike through
the gates of the cemetery, crowding around the elder as he hobbles across the uneven
terrain. It will be his final pilgrimage, and all of
them - including him - know it. He breathes a ragged sigh and mutters a prayer
to the deity that he will soon be meeting. Up above, the moon shines brilliantly. Down below, a chasm yawns in an open grave,
with something very old and very powerful roiling underneath. The villagers do not fear it. They revere it. They worship it. It gave them everything they have. The elder stands at the mouth of the chasm,
staring down into its depths with resolute silence. The village priest opens an ancient book and
chants a rite in an antique tongue. His words translate roughly to, “To our
lord, our father, our protector, we commit one of our own back into your hands and heart. For one thing is immutably true: The Black
Gift is only borrowed. The Black Gift gives us our life, and in death,
we return to the Black God.” As he goes on, something rises from the pit:
tendrils molded from liquid dark. They reach out and embrace the elder, tenderly
wrapping around him and lifting him from the ground. He doesn’t scream though. He simply accepts his fate as the villagers
pray and the tendrils pull him down into the dark. When their prayer is done, there is only silence. The torches go out. The villagers return home. It’s just another night for them. There is a village in the deepest, darkest
reaches of Eastern Europe. A place forgotten by time. Where the locals live by old rules and even
older gods. A place where strange rituals occur, and people
with unnatural abilities thrive. And beneath it all, the blood of a hungry,
curious god runs in endless, dark rivers. It goes without saying, something incredibly
strange is afoot in Ciemność, Poland, and the SCP Foundation have designated the heart
of that strangeness as SCP-6198. However, the decidedly peculiar locals have
a very different name for the phenomenon: Chernobog, old Slavic for “The Black God”,
an ancient deity said to rule dark fates and the Underworld. And considering the events that unfolded in
the incredibly old, incredibly isolated village of Ciemność, this is a reputation that Chernobog
has very much earned. Sadly, several members of Foundation personnel
had to learn this the hard way. The Foundation first discovered the village
when they intercepted strange communications from the local authorities investigating a
missing person’s case from the Lower Silesian Forest region. While searching for this missing person, Polish
police found a series of strange, dark chasms in the ground, each one leading down to a
deep, mysterious pit filled with black liquid. This was enough for the Foundation to realize
something anomalous was likely occurring here, prompting them to step in and intervene. Before the authorities could arrange any potentially
dangerous excursions into one of these chasms, the SCP Foundation showed up under the guise
of Poland’s Ministry of Public Security and relieved them of their duties. They designated the strange black liquid in
the chasms SCP-6198-B, and the chasms themselves SCP-6198-C. Thankfully, while the locals weren’t
exactly rolling out the welcome wagon, they didn’t show active hostility, either. Most simply appeared wary and kept their distance,
watching Foundation activities from inside their homes and staying out of the way of
researchers and guards. Early on, one of the biggest issues was the
communication barrier, as the majority of the village spoke an otherwise dead proto-slavic
dialect that seemed impenetrable, even to modern Polish speakers. Linguistic experts became key to facilitating
later communications between Foundation personnel and residents of the village. The residents of the village were all quite
old, but appeared unusually youthful for their ages. They were all worshippers of Chernobog. And the villagers claimed that, through worshiping
Chernobog, they were given the Black Gift - facilitated by imbibing the dark liquid
from the chasms - which they credited with their health, youth, and longevity. The Foundation was obviously interested in
figuring out just what exactly this black liquid was, so they began their studying in
earnest, but they soon realized something very strange. The chasms… were not always there. It seemed that they would only appear for
fourteen day periods between the New and Full Moon. The initial exploration into the heart of
the village was performed by two intrepid Field Agents, Agent Kazimierz Nowak and Agent
Maria Bakula. Nowak and Bakula arrived in the dilapidated
town, finally realizing just how cut off from modern society the place was: Dirt roads,
ramshackle wooden buildings surrounded by old ruins, and strange makeshift hierograms
everywhere. The duo pulled into town, seeing the many
ashen faces of the locals staring at them from nearby windows. They proceeded to the cemetery, where the
majority of the chasms were believed to have opened. There, in what appeared to be an open grave,
they found themselves staring down into one of the many abysses. Dark, light-absorbing liquid roiled deep below. However, they soon realized that it was time
to go when they noticed locals hiding behind the gravestones around them, watching intently. Something was very wrong here. They traveled back into the center of the
village, still keenly aware that they were being observed from the sidelines. They approached one of the many houses and
attempted to knock. An extremely old woman peered out of the window
and began speaking to them in proto-slavic, which neither of them could understand. However, as they were leaving, one of them
was able to swipe a leather-bound book from a table outside the home - believed to be
some kind of bible for the local religion. While still in town, and still being watched,
the duo collected a sample of the Black Gift from a local well, then began making their
way back to their vehicle. The whole time they were followed by an eerie
old man who looked to be in his nineties, but was surprisingly spry for his age. The two left shortly after that, and shared
their findings and samples with their superiors. The leatherbound book retrieved by Agent Nowak
and Agent Bakula was given to SCP Foundation linguistic expert Researcher Albin Iskra. Researcher Iskra quickly became enraptured
with the book, and the unique challenge it and its proto-slavic dialect presented. After many long nights of pouring over books
on slavic linguistic history, and many pots of very strong coffee, Researcher Iskra’s
work finally bore fruit. In a note to other personnel working on the
SCP-6198 case, she wrote: “Let me start by saying that, despite my
extensive knowledge of the history and origins of Slavic language, this is the first time
I've ever encountered what appears to be Proto-Slavic in written form from a direct descendant source. This is a truly fascinating discovery. Initial progress on translating the text was
slower than expected. There's something about the linguistic structure
of the language that, for reasons I can't fully deduce, make it incredibly difficult
to retain the knowledge of. For every few words committed to memory, it's
as though one dissipates from it. It's as if I can feel a sense of reluctance
coming from the language itself. Eventually I was able to solidify my understanding
enough to begin picking at the various passages found throughout. I can confirm that the contents of the book
hold a great deal of religious significance, not only for those in Ciemność but throughout
all Slavic culture, dating back to roughly the fourth century. While there are references to the more well
known Slavic gods such as Perun and Veles, the book focuses primarily on one of the sibling
"successor" gods, "Chernobog, the Black God"; detailing various prayers, rituals, and tenets,
that followers of the Black God should live by and practice. I've highlighted a selection of excerpts of
notable interest that may shed some light on the occurrences witnessed by Foundation
personnel.” Three areas of interest in Researcher Iskra’s
translation are “The Rite of the Black Passage”, “Expurgation and the Black Gift”, and
“The Fall of Veles”, each of which, in their own way, shed some light and some darkness
on the cryptic happenings of Ciemność. The section on The Rite of the Black Passage
read: “For it is to Him, where the dead must go
and return to the roiling abyss from which our forms are moulded
to be one again with Him In this, we share in their fathomless knowledge
and learn of untold and forgotten epochs unfurling mysteries of stygian transcendence
bestowed with blessings beyond death At darkest hour on darkest night
within lamented dwelling hollows shall hypogean thresholds unveil
entwining submerged departed Now relinquished of tethers corporeal
and sustained amidst blackest waters become one with perennial ancestry
granting insight to those adherent.” The section marked “Expurgation and the
Black Gift” read: “There are those that only turn to Chernobog
when their time is at an end, and it is those that shall be offered the least when they
inevitably pass. To live solely in the light of the brother
is to neglect the eternity that follows, condemning oneself to the lowest echelons of consciousness. Those with wisdom and foresight do well to
embrace the Black Gift, to forfeit a part of oneself in exchange for parts of the many. To drink of the Black Gift is to offer one's
life in a bid to be tested of mind and spirit. Should one be deemed worthy, that which was
offered will be returned but with boundless acuity and vigour. Should one's offering fall short, their essence
is given to the Black God entirely, yet, the truer they walk the Black Path, the more openly
their soul shall be welcomed. Before one is to be tested, they must first
be expurgated through ritual, else any sense of self is lost upon passing. This ebonises the soul, proving devotion to
the Black Path and allowing one's essence to find greater connection upon being taken
in by Chernobog. The ritual must be carried out by followers
in the living realm now sustained by the Black Gift, with these followers bringing about
a trance of blindness and drowning within the aspirant. Should an aspirant prove resolute throughout
this trial of panicked terror and asphyxiation, the Black Gift is then offered and true judgement
begins.” And finally, the section labeled “The Fall
of Veles” offers a mythological origin for the Black God, Chernobog, himself. It read: “Veles, god of the harvest, livestock, earth,
rivers, the underworld, magic, and trickery. Much did humanity depend upon him for not
only the means to survive but also for peaceful death. Alas, where there are those with great power,
there are also those that seek to claim it for themselves, and in this, brothers Belebog
and Chernobog were no different. Harsh winter followed by foul harvest lead
to the death of the brother's village, leaving the dead unburied atop frozen ground. Enraged at the neglect Veles had dealt them
and adamant that between them, they could govern the lands of the living and the dead
better than the great god, the brothers set out in search of Veles, their minds intent
on deicide. In their journeys the brothers overcome many
challenges, redoubling their affinity in magic and honing their cunning in warfare, Belebog
excelling in martial guile as Chernobog mastered the spell. However, Veles watched the brothers, aware
of their quest. In a bid to undermine them, Veles returned
the body of their mother to the living world to convince them to return home with her. The brothers were not fooled and with a heavy
heart, returned their mother to the underworld. Veles continued to break their will, turning
the food they gathered rotten. But again, the brothers were not fooled as
they endured putrid illusion of smell and taste, knowing that in truth what they consumed
would nourish them. Every trick cast down by Veles was foreseen
and averted until eventually, frustrated at the brother's tenacity, Veles himself confronted
Belebog and Chernobog. Veles challenged the brothers to battle, offering
his godhood should they best him but on the condition that only one may fight him. Suspecting that Veles may attempt to divide
the two, the brothers had made a pact with Perun, Veles' adversary. The brothers agreed that Veles would indeed
fight only a single combatant, to which Veles acknowledged and draw up a boundary from which
to battle within. When asked who shall fight, the brothers announced
"Perun" and upon uttering his name, the god of thunder appeared with a great flash within
the boundary. A battle of world-shattering magnitude commenced
as Veles took the form of dragon and Perun harnessed the power of the skies. Despite his skill in magic and deceit, Veles
was struck down and killed by Perun. With Veles dead, Belebog claimed domain over
harvest, the earth, and livestock; as Chernobog claimed the underworld, the rivers, and magic.” Combining information from these extracts
with contextual information they’d gathered from observation allowed them to paint a more
complete picture of the goings on at Ciemność, as well as SCP-6198 itself. But to develop an even greater understanding
of what they were dealing with here, they’d need to open a dialogue with a friendly member
of the village. That villager ended up being Tesia Konieczny,
a woman who appeared to be middle-aged but was, in actuality, in her mid-70s, her youthful
outward appearance thanks to the positive effects of the Black Gift. Tesia was pleasant and forthcoming with her
information as Foundation researchers questioned her, allowing them to glean a variety of interesting
information. For example, the Black Gift is exclusive to
those who were born in Ciemność, and many worshippers used to make their pilgrimage
to Ciemność to pledge their bodies to Chernobog in their final moments, and become one with
him. Tesia also seemed to possess information that
either would have predated her life, or would be impossible for her to know, suggesting
a shared consciousness between those who had been given the Black Gift. The question of what it exactly meant to offer
oneself to Chernobog continued to linger, until the Foundation began to conduct tests
with the samples collected by Agent Nowak and Agent Bakula. Given that supposedly only people born in
Ciemność could receive the Black Gift, the Foundation was eager to discover what effect
the black liquid might have on a D-Class. Incidentally, despite being truly opaque in
any quantity, chemical tests showed that the composition of the black liquid was no different
from water. So how severe could the effects really be? When a sample was applied to a D-Class subject’s
skin, there were no noticeable effects, nor were there any when the D-Class was submerged
up to the neck in the substance. When given diving equipment and entirely submerged
in the liquid, still, nothing happened. However, when the D-Class was instructed to
drink a glass of the liquid, he became incredibly ill, his veins and then skin turning black. He quickly expired, and his body rapidly decomposed
into more of the same black liquid. This implied that it was all part of the life
cycle of Ciemność. The Black Gift sustains life, but when life
finally comes to an end, everyone rejoins Chernobog, and becomes the same black liquid
that sustains the next generation of worshippers. Also, when a sample was given to a Ciemność
native to drink, there were no noticeable effects. After all this, the SCP Foundation decided
it was finally time to lower a member of their own personnel into one of the SCP-6198 chasms
to better figure out what was inside. This, however, was the beginning of the troubles
that would alert the Foundation to the true danger presented by SCP-6198 and his worshippers. Researcher Ela Gorski agreed to suit up and
be lowered into the blackness of one of the chasms and report back what happened within. As expected, when she was lowered in, she
reported the eerie darkness around her, and the black liquid that seemed to almost have
a mind of its own. When they attempted to pull her out, there
was evidence of spatial distortion, as despite being theoretically raised enough to leave
the underwater cavern, she was still down there. It was at this point that Researcher Gorski
began to talk to someone who wasn’t there, concerning the research staff up above. When they tried to raise her, they realized
that something was terribly wrong. Researcher Gorski was gone - She’d been
absorbed, body and mind, into the great collective consciousness of Chernobog. The entity begged, in Gorski’s voice, “There
is nothing of interest to be found within this abyss. The only knowledge worth seeking is above
us. Please. Send more Foundation. Please, I must survive.” This was how the SCP Foundation gleaned another
extremely valuable piece of information: Chernobog is able to grow stronger based on his number
of victims and worshippers, as more minds and memories are absorbed into his great collective
consciousness. And disturbingly, after consuming Researcher
Gorski, he knew about the SCP Foundation, and he was extremely, extremely eager to know
more. This was when things took a turn for the worst. In the hours following the disappearance of
Researcher Gorski, a Mobile Task Force unit was dispatched from Site 120 to assist in
the search. As they searched, various townsfolk approached
Foundation staff and began questioning them on subjects that they had no business knowing
about, such as the fate of Researcher Gorski, the status of various anomalies in the region,
and the location of the O5 Council - Which led Foundation agents to detaining the villager
who asked that last particularly dangerous question. But the worst was yet to come. The Foundation first had to stop a bizarre
ritual, where some of the villagers began taking bucketfuls of water from the village
well and bringing it to the different houses, and it took intervention from the Mobile Task
Force unit on site to get them to stop. And not long after that one of the MTF members,
Agent Adam Kowalski, didn’t report back for duty, The remaining MTF members began searching
for their missing colleague, but at the same time villagers also began attacking the task
force members at the cemetery, forcing them to fight their way back into town. When the embattled group entered a suspicious
house, they found a startling sight: A room filled with dark chasms, surrounded by makeshift
paintings of the SCP Foundation’s logo. Further in, they discovered Agent Kowalski,
laying on the ground, with two villagers appearing to pray over him. When nothing else would make them stop, they
were forced to neutralize the two villagers and retrieve the comatose Agent Kowalski for
evacuation from the village. The villagers crowded around the center of
the village, as the MTF members approached with Kowalski in tow, after being forced to
kill several more villagers, the crowd finally parted and allowed them through. During the car ride out of the village, Agent
Kowalski briefly became semi-lucid, and muttered about “something black” watching him from
beneath the water. He was able to provide no other information
on what had happened to him, and just moments later, he died of cardiac arrest. Security footage would then show something
extremely disturbing occurring within the MTF vehicle: Agent Kowalski’s dead body
sat up, retrieved his gun, and then killed his fellow MTF squadmates before they even
had a chance to react. The driver of the car was seriously wounded
and the vehicle crashed. Agent Kowalski’s reanimated body then exited
the vehicle, and screaming could be heard as he pulled the injured driver from his seat
and dragged him away into the darkness. The sounds of begging, vomiting, and wheezing
were heard after that, as, we can only assume, he was forced to ingest the Black Gift, No
bodies were ever recovered - Just various MTF uniforms floating in black liquid near
the roadside. Since this incident, the SCP Foundation has
dealt with the village of Ciemność and SCP-6198 with increased caution. Agent Kowalski’s reanimated corpse remains
at large and regular searches are conducted for it in the Lower Silesian Forest since
it is vital, above all else, that Chernobog cannot come to know any more sensitive SCP
Foundation information than he already does. Due to his intelligent nature, and capacity
to learn and exploit SCP Foundation secrets, Chernobog has been given the Euclid Object
Class and files pertaining to Chernobog are classified to Level 3 personnel and above. The entity has been given the Disruption Class
Vlam, as it is thankfully, currently localized entirely to the village of Ciemność, Poland. And given the recent events that have unfolded
there, it has also been given the Risk Class Caution - Since there’s no way of knowing
what the Black God still has up his sleeve. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like “SCP-783 There Was A Crooked Man”, for another anomalous location inhabited
by a powerful and dangerous being. 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. There are no streetlights on this stretch
of the old, narrow road, which runs through a rural part of West Virginia. A car has gone off the road into a ditch and
needs to be pulled out. A common task for this tow truck driver and
he’s often in the area doing similar jobs, though he’s never been on this particular
road and he has to keep his eyes peeled for any signs or other markers that might give
him an idea of how close he is to his turn. He spots something up ahead, but as he gets
closer he sees that it isn’t a road sign, it’s a billboard. As he passes by he can make out the weathered
lettering advertising a diner twenty miles down the road that’s probably been closed
for at least as many years. As he continues driving he sees more dilapidated
billboards, advertising other long since shuttered businesses like gas stations and autobody
shops. But then he sees one on the road ahead of
him that’s nothing like the others. This one doesn’t look old at all. In fact it looks quite new. He drives by and has to question if he saw
it correctly. It seemed like all it said was “Get Away”
over and over and then the name of a road. Is that an invitation? Or a warning? It wasn’t even clear what kind of business
it might be advertising. He continues driving, but he can’t quit
thinking about that strange sign. He even feels compelled to turn around so
he can get another look at it, but there’s no need, because as he rounds a curve there’s
another of the same sign. This time he slows down as he passes to get
a better look and he was right, it just says “Get Away” multiple times with the name
of a road. Wagriwa Road. Must be Native American or something. Now he really can’t get the billboard out
of his mind. What does it mean? What is it advertising? And why is there a third one of them just
ahead of him?! He pulls his truck to the side of the road,
stopping with his headlights illuminating the sign. He gets out of the truck and stands in front
of the billboard. It’s just the same as the others. Get away written over and over. Wagriwa Road. He can see now that the background of the
sign is a picture of some trees on a gray, cloudy winter day. He also notices for the first time that there’s
another line at the bottom. Find what you are looking for. What does it mean? Find what you’re looking for on Wagriwa
Road? Where even is that? There’s no directions. No address. No phone number. He takes a step back from the sign and looks
up and down the darkened road. What is he doing out here on the side of the
road? Someone is stranded in a ditch waiting for
him and he’s staring at a billboard? He gets back into the truck, puts it in gear,
and drives away. As he continues down the tree lined rural
road though, he inevitably finds his thoughts turning back to the signs. Get away. But find what you’re looking for? It doesn’t make any sense. Or are you supposed to get away to Wagriwa
Road? Who would put these up? And why do they look so new? Everything else out here looks like it’s
for a business that shut down years ago? What are they trying to - He suddenly slams on his brakes and comes
to a screeching stop in the middle of the road. His eyes are locked on what’s in front of
him. His headlights aren’t lighting up another
billboard though, this time it is a worn road sign... Wagriwa Road. He can’t help it. He has to know what’s down this road. He has to know what these signs are about. The stuck driver can wait a few minutes longer. He turns his truck onto the narrow gravel
road and drives for a few hundred yards, following it around a couple of bends as it winds through
the trees, until it abruptly ends. There’s nothing out here, no buildings,
no signs, just what looks to be a dirt path leading deeper into the woods. The tow truck driver switches off the ignition
and the road is plunged into darkness. He reaches under his seat and takes out a
flashlight before getting out of the truck. He shines the light into the woods surrounding
him but there’s nothing to see… no wait, there is something, and it’s coming
down the path out of the trees. “Phil? Phil is that you?” The figure that stepped out of the woods is
talking to him. He shines his flashlight at them and they
raise a hand to shade their eyes from the light. “Sharon?! What are you doing out here?” It’s Sharon, the tow truck driver’s ex-wife,
but he thought she’d moved to Colorado after she remarried, why would she be here? And what was she doing emerging from the woods? “Phil, come here. I need to show you something.” He hesitates for just a moment, but then finds
that he’s walking towards his ex-wife. Before he can reach her she turns and starts
walking down the path back into the woods and he follows. He walks just behind her, his flashlight illuminating
the path in front of them. He thinks he hears a rustling coming from
the woods next to him and searches the trees with his flashlight but doesn’t see anything. “Come on, it’s just a little further,”
she says. “Where are we going? What’s just a little further?” “What you are looking for.” The woods suddenly open up and he finds that
they are standing in a clearing. She stops walking and he pauses next to her. He opens his mouth to speak but she quickly
shushes him. “Quiet, they’re almost here.” The tow truck driver looks around but he doesn’t
see anything, just the faint outline of trees that are barely visible on this moonless night. But then he watches as several creatures begin
to emerge out of the woods into the clearing. They’re… deer? He watches as just a few come towards him
at first, but then he notices that they have completely surrounded him. There must be over twenty. “Turn off your light” she tells him. He obeys and in the darkness he can see now
that there is something special about these deer. Their eyes are glowing with a pale white light. One of the smaller deer steps forward and
cautiously approaches him. He squats down and holds his hand out, showing
it that he means it no harm. The deer looks back nervously at a larger
one that he thinks must be its mother. It looks like it nods in approval, and the
smaller deer moves closer. He can clearly see its big, beautiful doe
eyes glow brightly in the dark. “You’re okay” he says, and leans forward
to give it a reassuring pet when - Following the mysterious disappearances of
multiple people in an area of West Virginia near the town of Harpers Ferry, the SCP Foundation
soon became interested in a particular stretch of road where it appeared that many of those
who had gone missing had traveled just prior to their vanishing. Agents were dispatched to the area and immediately
detected high levels of thaumaturgic energy, with the epicenter appearing to be on a plot
of privately owned land. Investigation of local records revealed that
the land was owned by a man named Richard Redkinne. The Foundation staff contacted Mr. Redkinne
under the guise of being federal agents investigating a crime that had been committed on the property
while he was away. Mr. Redkinne happily cooperated with the agents,
explaining to them that had never experienced any abnormal events on the property while
he was living there, but that he had not resided on the land for some time. Strangely he claimed to not know the road
as Wagriwa Road, insisting that as far as he knew it had never had an official name,
being nothing more than a long driveway out to his property. When asked if he could remember anything else
abnormal about the location, he told the agents no, but that his daughter had written many
fictional stories about strange happenings on the land, and perhaps those had somehow
turned into rumors and then urban legends, though that was a long time ago. When the agents requested to meet with the
daughter he explained that it was impossible, she had drowned many years prior in the nearby
Shenandoah River. The agents again examined the local records
and found that Mr. Redkinne wasn’t lying, his daughter really had passed away and her
body was found in the river. The timing of this accident was quite coincidental
though, as it had occurred exactly one week before the first missing person in the area
was reported. Quickly realizing that something was not quite
right with this piece of land, the SCP Foundation authorized the purchase from Mr. Redknine,
who was more than happy to sell, and a research outpost was constructed to further investigate
the anomalous events which had collectively been dubbed SCP-4434. While exploring the surrounding area, they
soon found what so many others had before - the bizarre billboards imploring one to
both “get away” as well as come to Wagriwa Road to “find what you are looking for.” The signs, which were designated as SCP-4434-A,
were found on roads across the West Virgina, Maryland, Virginia tri-state area, but their
locations would often change, with the billboards only manifesting for short amounts of time
before vanishing and reappearing elsewhere. Bizarrely, when attempts were made to photograph
or videotape the signs, the resulting footage would show only a blank, white sign. The Foundation knew that they needed to investigate
further, and several experiments were authorized to find just what was happening on the land
at the end of the mysterious road. A D-Class personnel, D-84021, was given a
radio and implanted with GPS locators in his neck, torso, and thigh, and sent down the
road with orders to report back on what they experienced, though unlike the people who
had gone missing, he was not shown the billboard prior to entering the area. The D-Class walked to the end of the road
where he reported that a creature was emerging from a path leading into the woods. He soon exclaimed that the creature was a
dog that he used to own. The researchers monitoring the test were confused,
since the dog had apparently been deceased for some time, and yet here it was standing
in front of him. Although the D-Class had seemed hesitant at
the start of the mission, once he saw his childhood dog, all of his fears were set aside
and he willingly followed it deeper into the forest. After 90 seconds, the D-Class reported that
he had entered a clearing and was being surrounded by a group of deer. The reports stopped soon after and were replaced
by the sound of screams as D-84021 was attacked and apparently consumed by the deer. Two of the three GPS trackers remained active
for the next forty minutes, and SCP researchers followed their path as they moved to the middle
of the clearing and then appeared to enter into a sinkhole or cave of some sort, where
they traveled slowly in a winding pattern downward until contact was lost. Following this test, the Foundation researchers
suspected that the creature that would emerge from the woods, which had been designated
as SCP-4434-B, was able to change forms into one that would be trusted by those who entered
the 4434 area. The deer, on the other hand, seemed to always
maintain their appearance, and the whole group was designated as SCP-4434-C. The tests were
far from over though. For the next, two D-Classes were sent into
SCP-4434 in order to see what form 4434-B would take when more than one person was present. Just like before, an entity emerged from the
woods, but this time it took the form of a young man in a suit who immediately offered
to clear any and all debts the D-Classes held as well as expunging their criminal records,
freeing them from their life as test subjects. All they would need to do is follow him into
the woods. The agents monitoring the test ordered the
D-Classes not to follow the man, but they were ignored, and the researchers listened
as they instead began conversing with SCP-4434-B, seeming to be quite interested in his offer. They soon followed him into the woods, and
just over two minutes later, they too were attacked and consumed by SCP-4434-C. It appeared
now that once someone entered the SCP-4434 area, they were all but helpless to resist
the compulsive effects of SCP-4434-B. The Foundation researchers wanted to test
the limits of SCP-4434’s power, and so they then came up with a rather creative procedure
for the next test. Another D-Class personnel was sent down the
road, but this one was wearing a body harness that was connected to a pulley system, as
well as being equipped with a camera. He was ordered to wait at the edge of the
SCP-4434 area until the 4434-B entity appeared. The entity soon emerged, taking the form of
a middle aged woman. As soon as the D Class was seen conversing
with the entity and agreed to follow it, the pulley was engaged in order to forcibly pull
him out of the area. This was followed by an entirely unexpected
event. The middle aged woman quickly produced a knife,
and with a supernatural speed, severed the rope on the pulley system. The now freed D-Class stood up, followed the
woman into the woods, and was consumed soon after. The researchers were growing frustrated with
their lack of advancement in understanding the anomaly, and so for the fourth test, they
decided to take quite extreme measures. A drone was used to fly over the area, which
identified the mouth of the cave that the GPS trackers had been taken into. It was a three and a half meter wide hole
in the ground, too dark to see anything past the entrance, and the drone installed an anchor
point in the ground at the mouth of the hole before flying in to explore further, but the
signal was almost immediately lost. Progress had been made though. Yet another D-Class was selected, this time
one who had climbing experience. D-84041 was warned in advance that the SCP-4434-B
entity would appear to her and would have a compulsive affect, and that she was to ignore
them no matter what form they took and instead proceed as quickly as possible to the cave,
which had been designated as SCP-4434-D. D-84041 was taken to the road, and she immediately
began running down the path into the woods. She was able to reach the mouth of the cave
without seeing any anomalous entities, neither 4434-B nor the carnivorous deer. She quickly attached the rope she had brought
to the anchor that was installed by the drone and began rappelling into the hole. As she descended down, she described a normal,
rocky cave, one that grew wetter the further down she went. Surprisingly, she soon reached the bottom,
where she found a spherical room, roughly eight meters across, but this was not anything
like the entrance to the cave. The floor of this room wasn’t made of rock
or dirt, it was more like flesh, and it appeared… to be breathing. And there was something else down there too,
a folded piece of paper with writing on it. The D-Class was ordered to pick up the paper,
take a sample of the cave floor, and exit the area as soon as possible, as there was
no way to predict if the SCP-4434-B and C entities, or something worse, would soon appear. After taking a sample she began climbing out
of the cave. When she emerged there were still no signs
of any anomalous creatures but she quickly made her way down the road and out of the
SCP-4434 area. When she reached the waiting Agents at the
edge of the area, D-84041 handed them the sample and the paper that she found but then
stopped and turned around. There on the ground roughly five meters away
was a plate of food. Without any hesitation she walked back into
the SCP-4434 area, picked up the plate, and walked back into the woods. She was never seen again. It was now clear that 4434-B could take forms
other than just humanoids and animals. As the objects that the D-Class had managed
to get out of SCP-4434 were analyzed, the area’s former owner, Richard Redkinne, was
again questioned by Foundation agents. They asked him if there was anything that
he failed to mention in their previous interview and he told them that there was one thing
that he preferred not to normally discuss. Just before his daughter’s death, in addition
to her fascination with writing and coming up with stories, she had become obsessed with
the occult. When they asked him about the paper they had
found within SCP-4434-D, he told them that it was very likely that she had written it. The SCP Foundation now understood why they
had detected so many thaumaturgic particles in the area, which is the residual energy
left over from a particular form of ritualistic practice that is more commonly known as “magic”
or “witchcraft.” The contents of the paper found in the cave
seem to add additional weight to the theory that his daughter may have been involved in
a ritual that led to the creation of SCP-4434, because written on the single page is a poem
which reads: The forest is a sea;
the wind is the waves and the water is the leaves. The streams become undercurrents,
the birds become fish, and coral finds its home as fungus,
growths sprouting as I wish. The ground is the shore,
pulling me by the feet, dragging me down and pulling me back
Back and forth on repeat. I dove down past the light
down where I couldn't breathe, and found nature looking for a fight. Yes, the forest is a sea,
but I've made it barely big enough for me. The forest is a sea,
so now something's bound to come eat. Things only became more mysterious though
when Foundation researchers performed a DNA test on the sample taken from the bottom of
the SCP-4434-D cave. What they found was that it was, just as D-84041
had described, a flesh-like substance. And that it was a 78.9% match to Melanocetus
johnsoni, better known as the Deep Sea Anglerfish. And there was one final discovery to be made
as well. Linguistic teams within the Foundation investigated
the name of the road that had appeared on the SCP-4434-A billboards and discovered that
the word was very similar to the Native American Tutelo tribe word wágriwa, which roughly
translates to the phrase… I have come back. Now you should come back as well, by subscribing
and turning on notifications to make sure you don’t miss a single anomaly, like SCP-054,
the Water Nymph, another strange and perhaps misunderstood creature, as we delve further
and further into the SCP Foundation’s classified archives. The explorer slashes his way through the jungle,
using his large machete to hack through the thick undergrowth. He suddenly stops and turns around, “Which
way was it again?” His local guide answers but he must wait for
him to finish and his research assistant to translate. “He says to continue straight, it’s just
another hundred yards or so.” The gentleman explorer offers a quick nod
before turning to resume cutting his way through the forest. The guide was right though, because after
a short way the dense jungle suddenly opens up, giving way to a clearing that reveals
one of the most incredible things the explorer has ever seen. Just ahead of him, rising out of the forest
is a massive, ancient stone temple. A huge step pyramid of solid stone, intricately
carved and covered with elaborate statues. The colossal structure looks like it has been
abandoned for centuries if not longer, with nature having done its best to reclaim the
stone and cover the pyramid in vines and other plants. The team approaches the temple but stops in
front of a stone monument that stands in front of it. The explorer traces its carved lines with
his finger, knocking the dirt away to reveal its weathered pictograph. It appears to depict a sort of creature, but
with large, spread wings instead of arms. “Perhaps a kind of… ritualistic garb?” the explorer says to his assistant. The assistant hastily scribbles in her notebook,
trying to document everything she can. “Yes, this is definitely a priest-like figure
of some kind, maybe a leader of this temple thanks to the connection he shares to their
- “ the explorer’s musings are interrupted by his guide, who he angrily spins around
to face. “Yes, what?! What is it?” His research assistant translates for him
as usual, “he says that we should go no further, that it’s too dangerous.” “Nonsense,” replies the explorer, “we
came all this way, and who knows what fantastic treasures await us inside… Historical treasures I mean, artifacts. Treasures of knowledge, of course.” “Of course,” replies his assistant before
following her boss as he starts making his way up the step pyramid, as the guide holds
true to his stated intentions and waits near the edge of the jungle. The two of them walk through an entrance that
leads into a long, dark hallway. With only torches to light their way, it’s
impossible to see just how deep it runs into the temple. The explorer stops to examine the walls which
are covered in even more carvings. He can see that there are complicated geometric
patterns, but also many more depictions of the same winged creature that was on the monument
outside. Here though, the creatures are depicted in
moments of action. They appear to be running, chasing, reaching
out and grabbing for… people. They are shown attacking them, picking them
up, carrying them away to… right where the pictograph story should reveal its climax
is a chunk of missing wall. It must have fallen off at some point. “Ah, oh well,” the explorer declares before
moving on to explore more of the temple. His assistant doesn’t follow though. She spots several pieces of stone on the floor
underneath the missing panel and kneels down to get a closer look. She begins to gather them together, rearranging
the various pieces back into their original form. Meanwhile the explorer’s attention has been
caught by something else. On the other side of the hall is a statue
of a tall, proud warrior, and in his hand, he clutches a large, bejeweled spear, the
gemstones adorning it sparkling in the torchlight. The explorer reaches out and grips the spear’s
handle. He begins to pull, perhaps being a little
rougher than one should with an ancient artifact, but he wants this fabulous jeweled piece,
and even more than the spear itself, he wants the acclaim it will bring him back home. As the explorer pulls on the spear his research
assistant moves the final piece of the broken wall carving into position. She holds her torch over it to get a better
look and she gasps. The winged creatures are carrying people away,
but that isn’t the end of the story. They are bringing them somewhere, and she
can see now that they are being presented to an even bigger winged creature. It’s a monster, a monster that is feeding
on the people. The assistant turns to tell the explorer what
she has found, and just as she does, she watches as he is finally able to rend the spear loose
from the statue’s grip. The statue finally letting go causes him to
fall backwards to the ground where he lies, marveling at the beautiful jeweled spear in
his hands. “Look out!” yells his assistant. The explorer doesn’t notice that the statue
is precariously rocking back and forth, and he rolls out of the way just before it crashes
down right where he was lying and admiring the spear. “Are you ok?” she asks as she rushes over. “I think so,” he tells her. “Just a little bump on the head. Nothing that can’t be fixed up by a good
- ” “By a good what?” she asks, but he seems distracted by something
behind her. “By a good… by a good… By god what is that?” He points and the research assistant turns
to see something emerging from a hole in the wall where the statue once stood. It’s one of the creatures from the wall
carvings. A bizarre half man, half lizard, with wings
instead of arms, though there’s no flesh at all, the creature is completely made of
bone. The two of them both scream at the skeletonized,
half-human, and the creature screams right back at them, emitting a shrill, high-pitched
squeal. Suddenly more of the creatures begin to emerge
from the hole in the wall, with others crawling out of previously unseen and unnoticed holes
in the walls and ceiling. The creatures rush towards them, blocking
their way out of the temple, and the pair have no choice but to run further down the
darkened hallway. As they run, more of the creatures emerge
from holes in the darkness, screaming at them and grasping at them with the sharp claws
on the end of their wings. As they round a corner, one reaches out and
grasps the explorer’s ankle causing him to trip and fall hard onto the stone floor. His assistant rushes to his aid, but as she
is helping him up, two more of the creatures appear behind her and envelop her in their
bony, winged arms. The explorer stands up and stabs at one of
them with the jeweled spear as they drag her into a dark hole, but a third tears it from
his hands. With more still coming down the hallway behind
him, the explorer has to run. The hallway in front of him looks to have
collapsed at some point in the past and he has no choice but to enter one of the dark
tunnels that has been carved into the rock. The narrow tunnel winds back and forth and
the explorer is unsure of where he is going or what his plan is. He rounds a bend and the tunnel opens up into
a gigantic room. The ceiling must be over a hundred feet high,
and he can’t see the furthest walls with the only light emitted by his torch, and a
dim beam of sunlight coming down through a hole high up on the ceiling. He notices too that it has suddenly gone quiet. He turns and looks back at the tunnel he has
just emerged from and notices that the sound of the horrible creatures that were chasing
him has ceased. The explorer hears something coming from deeper
in the giant room and turns back, peering into the darkness. There in the single beam of light he sees
one of the winged creatures, but it is moving strangely, as if it isn’t walking, but floating
up into the air. And that’s because it isn’t walking. As it gets closer, the explorer can see that
the winged creature is stuck on the tooth of a gigantic, monstrous mouth. The huge, winged creature emerges from the
darkness into the beam of light, tossing back its giant head to consume the creature that
was stuck in its teeth, its bones loudly cracking in its mouth. Now in the light, the explorer can see that
the monster, which itself must be hundreds of feet long, is a huge flying lizard of some
kind. Or at least it was at one time, since now
the majority of its body is made only of bone. What scraps of flesh are left hang off in
rotten ribbons. The monster opens its mouth and roars at the
explorer, its foul breath smells like a mausoleum opening up hitting the explorer in the face. The explorer tries to run but the monster
swipes out with a bony wing that still has a few blackened strips of leathery skin on
it and knocks him to the ground. He is pinned to the floor with a huge spiny
claw, as the creature opens its mouth, roaring again before moving its head down to start
feasting on its meal. The explorer closes his eyes, bracing himself
to be eaten alive when the creature suddenly lets out an ear piercing scream. The explorer opens his eyes to see the jeweled
spear sticking out of one of the few spots of flesh remaining on the creature’s clawed
foot, and gripping the shaft, is his assistant. She looks a little worse for wear, but she’s
alive. She offers him a hand to help him up. They need to get out of there, but first the
explorer pulls the spear from the monster's claw. The two start running, doing everything they
can to avoid the monster as it claws and swipes at them. They spot an illuminated opening at the other
end of the vast room and with no other option, start heading towards it. As they get closer they can see it’s just
what they needed - daylight. Escape. They both slide to a stop at the cusp of the
opening, nearly tumbling over the edge. On the other side, the tunnel opening up out
of the side of the temple gives way to nothing but air, and a drop of hundreds of feet down
to the jungle below. They turn to see the monster still rushing
towards them and without time to think any longer they both jump, just seconds before
the creature snaps its bony jaws in the place where they were standing. It’s too big to fit anything more than its
mouth out the door and it howls and screams as they fall through the air before crashing
into the ground below. The assistant slowly opens her eyes to see
someone… It's their guide. He is cradling her head, and asking if she’s
okay. She sits up, dazed and more than a little
bruised from her fall. She asks the guide where the explorer is,
if he’s alright, and the guide lowers his eyes, looking as though he’d rather not
answer. He points next to them without looking and
the assistant turns to see the explorer lying on the ground a few feet away from them, his
body impaled on the jeweled spear. History is full of tales and legends about
gods, monsters, and everything in between. But not all of these are just stories, and
in fact sometimes the reality is even more terrifying than what we could envision. And that is exactly the case when it comes
to SCP-4959, also known as the Teotihuacan Pterodactylactery. SCP-4959 is a huge creature that resembles
a pterosaur, which were flying reptiles that existed during the Mesozoic Era. While pterosaurs have been extinct for millions
of years, SCP-4959 is very much alive, or at the very least, animate. This massive anomaly, whose wingspan stretches
approximately 50 meters, is in a living state of decomposition, with roughly 70% of its
flesh having rotted or otherwise fallen away, leaving only small patches of skin and decaying
tissue clinging to its bones. The flesh that does remain shows no signs
of further decomposition though, as if it is permanently locked into this specific stage
of advanced decay. Tests of 4959’s flesh have shown no apparent
abnormalities, save for a slightly higher than expected concentration of iridium. Its eyes are no longer present, but the eye
sockets somehow shine with a bright green light, though the source of this luminescence
is unknown. When angered, the creature also emits a multicolored
corona of fire from its wings, skull, and neck. SCP-4959 was discovered in a gigantic chamber
beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent in Teotihuacan, Mexico. A number of tunnels connect to the chamber,
and these too are anything but empty. Lurking within the temple’s many twisting
passages, are entities that have been designated SCP-4959-A. These are humanoid size creatures
appear to be constructed of various human and pterosaur bones, creating an all-new creature
that is an amalgamation of both. The bones are connected to a central, stone-like
heart, but it is unknown if this heart was carved from stone or if it was at one time
a real heart that turned to stone through a process of ossification, nor is it fully
understood just how the bones are connected to it or stay together. The 4959-A entities also have a number of
varying adornments on their bodies which can include strips of decayed fabric, feathers,
and precious stones, that resemble those worn by the indigenous people who resided in the
area many centuries ago. SCP-4959 is carnivorous, though it is unknown
if it requires or simply desires to feed. Regardless, it seems to be the task of the
SCP-4959-A entities to bring it meals, since the 4959 creature itself is too large to leave
its chamber beneath the temple. The hallways and passages that originally
connected the temple to the chamber housing SCP-4959 have all collapsed, and the only
tunnels now leading to it were most likely dug into the rock and earth by the 4959-A
entities. They search through these tunnels, most often
working at night, looking for small animals like birds and lizards, but also occasionally
finding a larger animal or even a human who has somehow found themselves inside. They will then bring their live prey directly
to the giant pterosaur, offering them up as both a meal and a sacrifice. SCP-4959 will then proceed to eat the prey
whole, sometimes consuming the 4959-A entity at the same time as well. The temple itself is covered in carvings and
murals that give numerous hints as to the origin of SCP-4959. While it is unknown just how it got there,
It appears as though the local people discovered the creature within its chamber, and regarded
it as an avatar of their Feathered Serpent god or perhaps another unknown deity. A temple was constructed at the site, and
they soon began making sacrifices to the god-creature that lived beneath, starting with small animals,
but then progressing to human sacrifices on important holy days. There is also something else shown in the
murals that looks to be of great importance. It seems as though SCP-4959 possessed a sort
of “heart” which is depicted as a large gemstone, described as being “red as blood
and bright as the rising sun.” This gemstone was previously housed at the
pinnacle of the temple, though its current location is unknown. Following intense study of the site by SCP
Foundation historians, a narrative was pieced together that may explain at least some of
what happened there. It seems as though there was an uprising within
the local population in roughly the sixth century AD. A conflict had arisen amongst the people as
to whether this really was a god, or something else, something evil. Those who doubted the deific origins of SCP-4959
wrested control of the temple and journeyed into its depths to attempt to kill the creature. The many scorch marks on the wall are a testament
to the battle that likely took place, and while they suffered many losses, it appears
as though they were at least able to seal the chamber shut. It is currently unknown what became of the
great jewel on top of the temple after this, but its location is of great interest to the
Foundation given that it may well be the source of SCP-4959’s longevity. SCP-4959 has been classified as Euclid, and
it continues to be contained within the chamber beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent,
though all of the tunnel entrances leading into it have been blocked by reinforced gates. If new ones are discovered as the result of
SCP-4959-A’s continued tunneling, they too are to be gated and sealed. Once per week, a large, live animal, most
often a cow, is deposited down a shaft that leads directly to the chamber, and so far,
this seems to be keeping SCP-4959 content to stay within its tomb. Just what is SCP-4959? And what are the half-man, half-pterosaur
creatures who serve it? Are they former human sacrifices, now destined
to live an eternity in servitude to their master? If SCP-4959 was a god at one point, the fact
that we are now the ones responsible for feeding it and keeping it happy means that in a sense,
we’re the ones serving it now. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-3700 The Tides of War, for another anomaly with god-like implications. 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. Two teenagers cautiously approach an old,
decrepit house. The house looks like it was built hundreds
of years ago and from the outside, it appears to be in a serious state of disrepair. The walls are cracked and weathered, the roof
looks to have holes in it, and one of the decorative columns has completely collapsed. The teenagers have heard rumors about this
dilapidated home though, and they have heard there are riches still to be found inside. One of the teens starts walking up the stairs
onto the porch, but his friend seems reluctant to follow. Is he sure that no one lives here? The braver of the teens tells his friend that
he’s been watching the house for days and hasn’t seen anyone come in or out. The only signs of life have been a very faint
light visible between the cracks of the house’s boarded up windows. And he’s not even sure if he actually saw
any lights or not. If there is anyone in there, it’s just some
crazy old person. They can easily scare them off and loot the
house at their leisure. His friend still doesn’t look sure, but
the other teen proceeds to take out a lockpick. He tells his friend to keep a lookout while
he works on the door. He doesn’t need to keep watch for long though,
since the lock almost immediately opens with a loud click. He opens the door carefully, but it still
squeaks loudly. Through the crack he can’t see much of anything
inside, it looks very dark. “Come on,” he tells his friend, as he
slips inside. His friend looks nervous as he watches his
friend disappear into the house. Suddenly there’s a loud crash! “Oh no, we’ve been caught!” he thinks
as he spins around. But he doesn’t see a police officer coming
to arrest them or a nosy passerby, instead he watches as a cat chases a rat into some
trash cans, knocking more of them over. He breathes a sigh of relief as he watches
the cat come out of the pile of trash, holding its prey limply by the tail. He turns to follow his friend into the house
but is stopped when the door snaps shut in his face. He tries the doorknob, but it’s locked. He taps quietly on the door. No response. He taps a little louder, whispering “Hey,
what’s going on?” but still no response. What is going on? Inside, his friend is also pulling on the
doorknob but it’s no use, the door won’t budge and the lock won’t turn. He also tries tapping lightly on the door
but there’s no signs from outside that anyone has heard him. He’s trapped. He looks around the darkened room. Just like the outside, the interior looks
like it hasn’t been updated in hundreds of years. Dust and cobwebs are everywhere, like no one
has set foot inside in decades, and yet, on several small tables and shelves around the
room, are lit candles. With no other option, he decides to move deeper
into the house. He creeps into the next room, which is in
much the same condition as the first, dusty and old but with several candles placed around
that give off just the faintest amount of flickering yellow light. Not only does someone still live here, but
they’ve lit these candles recently. He takes a folding knife out of his pocket
and opens it, holding the blade out in front of him. Just then he hears something. A noise like footsteps, and it sounds like
it’s coming from upstairs in the room right above him. They might be coming down to look for him. He needs a place to hide. He spots a sofa near the corner and tries
to get down behind it as much as possible. As he grips the edge of the sofa with one
hand, he suddenly drops his knife to the floor and uses his now free hand to stifle a scream. He looks at the hand that was just gripping
the sofa and sees a long sewing needle plunged deep into his hand. Was this stuck into the couch? He pulls the needle out of his hand, it nearly
went all the way through, and holds the bloody wound up to his mouth, trying to stop the
flow of blood as he waits and listens. The sound of footsteps finally stop. Whoever is walking around, it doesn’t sound
like they’re coming down the stairs to find him. He has to get out of this house though, there
must be another way out. He picks up his knife and quietly moves to
the next room. Once again, it’s in the same condition as
the last. But wait, what’s that in the corner? Is that a person lying there? Outside the house, his friend is looking through
the same trash that he saw the cat hunting in. Ahah! Just what he was looking for, an old wire
hanger. He runs back to the old house, untwists it,
and inserts the thin wire into the lock. Inside, the trespassing teen gets closer and
closer to the thing in the corner. It’s so dim though, with the only light
coming from the candles that he still can’t make out what it is, but he feels strangely
compelled to find out. He picks up one of the candles off of a nearby
table. Outside he still can’t get the lock open,
but he’s got to keep trying, he can’t leave his friend trapped inside. He’s standing right over the thing in the
corner now. He kneels down and brings the candle close
to see what it is… and screams. His friend throws down the hangar in frustration
before sitting down on the porch. He can’t figure out why his friend was able
to open the lock so easily and now it won’t move. Did something in the mechanism break? He doesn’t know what he’s going to do
though, should he call for help? The police will arrest them both if he does. How long should he wait though? It feels like his friend has been stuck for
a long time and he hasn’t heard anything from inside. What could possibly be happening in there? Should he just leave and hope that his friend
is able to escape on his own? Just as he is wondering what to do he hears
a click behind him. He turns around and tries the door handle
but it’s still locked. He looks down and sees the wire hanger. Maybe he’ll give it one more try. He sticks the hanger into the lock and hears
the lock pop open almost instantly. He tries the door handle and this time, the
door swings open. He stands there looking through the cracked
door into the dark house. He’s terrified at the thought of going inside,
but he can’t leave his friend in there. If he’s in trouble then he has to save him. Gathering up all of his courage, he enters
the house and sees the same thing his friend did, a dusty old room. He takes a step into the candlelit room and
freezes, there’s something in the middle of the room. It’s a chair that’s turned away from him,
but he can see that someone is sitting in it. But wait, is that his friend? “Hey” he calls in a loud whisper, but
his friend doesn’t respond. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Still no response. He starts walking towards his friend, but
stops when he hears what sounds like footsteps coming from the room above him. He’s got to get his friend and get out of
this house. He checks over his shoulder to make sure the
door is still open before starting to quietly move towards his friend again. He’s close enough that he can reach out
and shake his shoulder, but his friend doesn’t react. He walks around to the front of the chair
and sees his friend. Except it’s no longer his friend. Staring back at him are two empty eye sockets. His mouth has been pulled back by stitches
of thread into a horrifying permanent grin. But worst of all is what he hears. It’s the sound of the front door… slamming
shut. Privet! Today’s file is a special one and comes
from the Russian branch of the SCP Foundation. It’s SCP-1098-RU also known as… The Theater of Living Puppets. SCP-1098-RU is a two story house located in
a small Russian city which appears to have been constructed in the Baroque style, which
was popular in the 17th and 18th centuries and is characterized by its exuberant details. The house is likely several hundred years
old and is in an advanced state of disrepair. The local government administration has marked
the house for demolition multiple times, but for reasons that remain unknown, these plans
are always scrapped or indefinitely delayed. All of the doors that lead into SCP-1098-RU
are locked, and the windows are all boarded up. Anyone who attempts to damage the house, even
just by removing the boards from the windows, will experience an odd anomalous effect that
compels them to instead protect the structure and cause it no harm. This effect only wears off when the subject
moves at least fifty meters away from the house. The only way to enter SCP-1098-RU is through
the front door, which even though it is locked, is easily able to be picked open which causes
no harm to the house and prevents the anomalous effect from overcoming the subject trying
to gain entrance. Once someone has entered the house, they will
find that the door closes behind him and locks itself. The lock can not then be picked open again
for one hour. The interior of the house matches the exterior
stylistically, also appearing to have been designed in the Baroque style and in a poor
condition. The house is quite dark since there are no
electric lights present and all of the windows are boarded up, blocking any outside light. The only illumination comes from the lit candles
that are placed around the house, which appear to be constantly replaced and lit again when
they burn out. The sound of slow footsteps can be heard inside
the house though the room they are coming from seems to change. The entity producing the sounds has been classified
as SCP-1098-RU-1, and it is thought that it is also responsible for the placing and re-lighting
of candles around the house, as well as several other anomalous effects. The Russian branch of the SCP Foundation first
became aware of potential anomalous activity related to SCP-1098-RU after the disappearance
of multiple teenagers was linked to the location. In interviews, many of their friends and family
reported that their last known locations were near the site of the old Baroque style home,
and several had expressed a desire to investigate the house before they disappeared. Local police investigated the house, which
only led to them disappearing as well. After learning of the strange activity connected
to the house, the Foundation took over the investigation, planting a cover story that
“Totalitarian Sects” were responsible for the disappearances, while class A amnestics
were administered to all relatives of the missing teens. The Foundation immediately began investigating
the house, but carefully, since they had already seen how easily people could go missing inside. In the first excursion into the house, a remotely
controlled robot fitted with a camera was sent inside. Just like when a person enters, the door closed
and locked behind the robot, but its camera feed continued to broadcast images to the
researchers outside. As the robot explored the run-down house’s
rooms it found something much more disturbing than just lit candles. In several of the rooms, corpses were discovered
which were later identified as being some of the missing teenagers. All of the bodies found had their eyeballs
removed and thick threads had been sewn into their arms and legs, as if they had been turned
into giant living puppets. Some of them also had stitches in their chest
and face areas. The face stitches appear to have been made
to force the face to have a certain expression, while the chest stitches may indicate that
organs had been removed. No signs of decomposition were present though,
despite some of the bodies likely being many months old. Several objects were also found next to the
bodies including surgical knives, needles, thread, and at least one artificial eye. Exactly one hour after the robot entered the
house the camera ceased broadcasting images and all contact was lost. For the second excursion into the house, the
Foundation decided that a human being would be more effective at gathering information
than a robot. A Class-D personnel was given a flashlight,
a camera, and a radio and sent on a mission to attempt to remove objects from the house
and to locate the robot from the first research mission. The D-Class entered the house, and researchers
noted that from what they could see on the video feed, that the layout of the house hadn’t
changed. Candles were still present around the room,
though it was clear that they had been replaced by fresh ones. As the D-Class explored the first floor of
the house, he reported that he could hear footsteps coming from different parts of the
house, and on one occasion that they sounded like they were coming from a room he had just
left, but when he returned to that room no one was present. He wasn’t able to locate the missing robot,
but did find the same corpses that the robot had. He was ordered by the researchers to pick
up one of the surgical knives and try bringing it out of the house, but the moment he picked
it up, all contact was lost. A third mission into the house was then tried,
this time with another remotely controlled robot, though this one was more advanced and
equipped with a thermal imager and audio recording equipment. This robot was also better suited for exploration
and was capable of climbing stairs so that the Foundation could finally find out what
was on the second floor of this strange house. The robot entered the home and ascended to
the second floor. As it explored the rooms, it found one particularly
strange one that appeared to be operating as a kind of sewing workshop, with huge amounts
of thread, needles, and other sewing supplies spread across multiple tables. Dark red stains covered many of the tables,
but no bodies were discovered in the sewing room. The robot continued to explore the second
floor though, and soon discovered many more corpses, accounting for nearly all of the
missing teenagers, the police that had vanished, as well as the missing D-Class personnel. All of them had been dressed in 18th century
style clothing and their eyes had been removed and replaced with artificial ones, giving
them a perpetual glassy eyed stare. Long, thick threads had been sewn into their
arms and legs as well. The sound recording equipment on the robot
captured the same sounds of footsteps that the D-Class had reported, but the thermal
imager didn’t locate any signs of life. The researchers decided to call an end to
the experiment and began guiding the robot back out of the house, but just as it reached
the front door the connection was lost, and the robot has never been located. One final expedition into the home was approved,
this time using another Class-D personnel, whose mission was to explore the entire house
including the second floor, before attempting to leave the home. The D-Class entered the home as normal, but
immediately reported feeling a strange feeling that the other D-Class hadn’t mentioned. He told the researchers listening that he
was experiencing an intense headache and pressure in his ears, and that he could hear what sounded
like someone crying in another room. None of the equipment picked up the crying
sounds and the D-Class was ordered to investigate further. He approached the room that he claimed the
sound was coming from, but still nothing was detected on the audio recording equipment. He was ordered to enter the room, and though
he seemed scared and reluctant, eventually he did so. Once inside, he reported seeing a young girl
wearing an 18th century style dress. The girl was dancing, but crying as she did
so. Just like on the corpses that had previously
been found inside the house, threads were connected to her arms and legs, but these
ones were pulled tight and stretched up towards the ceiling. The D-Class followed their path up but they
disappeared into the darkness, reporting that it looked like there was no ceiling at all,
just an inky black void where something was manipulating the strings attached to the girl,
forcing her to dance. None of these visuals reported by the class
D could be seen on the video feeds the researchers were watching. As far as they could see, he was staring into
an empty room. The D-Class was ordered to continue watching
this strange recital though, and after five minutes, all of the communication devices
ceased working. The video feed was lost too but the audio
continued to record for a few more seconds, during which time a sharp clap noise was heard. The D-class began screaming as a deep male
voice spoke a phrase in Latin. “Et perficiendi sit pretium”... The performance must be paid for. No further signs of the D-Class were ever
found. SCP-1098-RU has since been fenced off to prevent
the general public from being able to enter it. A patrol team of four security guards is always
on site and anyone who attempts to gain entry to the house is to be detained, interrogated,
and administered class B amnestics. Additional research into SCP-1098-RU is ongoing,
but requires approval from at least two members of the O5 Council and to date, no further
expeditions inside this anomaly which has been given the object class Euclid have been
authorized. It is still unknown who, or what exactly the
entity inside of SCP-1098-RU is, but it has been designated as SCP-1098-RU and some in
the Foundation have taken to calling it by a nickname… The Master of Puppets. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP-026 After School Retention, for another terrifying anomalous location. 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.
