unfinished business
rating: +10+x

Item Number: SCP-XXXX


The remnants of SCP-XXXX.

Clearance Level: One

Containment Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: A perimeter of 2 km is to be established around SCP-XXXX, utilizing cameras and remote viewing systems. Given SCP-XXXX's secluded nature, only one guard is to be posted outside SCP-XXXX's perimeter, in a separate viewing room.

Description: SCP-XXXX is the designation for a plot of land in the woods of Eureka, California, belonging to a Mr. Darren Helio and Ms. Amy Ersut, both currently deceased. SCP-XXXX contains a cabin, two piles of rubble, and large amounts of foliage surrounding it.

Time within SCP-XXXX is perceived as 3.8 times faster than normal. No actual time dilation occurs - instead, SCP-XXXX causes a perceptual change in both internal circadian rhythm, and timekeeping devices brought inside SCP-XXXX. Testing has shown mold, plant growth, and other time-based rhythms move and grow at typical rates.

Within SCP-XXXX, a spectral, humanoid entity manifests daily, which is incapable of leaving SCP-XXXX's boundaries. This entity, hereafter designated SCP-XXXX-1, shows no awareness of personnel or objects introduced into the environment. Furthermore, SCP-XXXX-1 is incapable of interacting with new objects placed within SCP-XXXX's confines.

SCP-XXXX-1 performs the same routine every day. This routine includes typical household actions, such as cooking, cleaning, or sitting on SCP-XXXX's cabin's porch. SCP-XXXX-1 demanifests at the end of its routine. A full schedule is detailed in the following document, found within SCP-XXXX and presumably written by SCP-XXXX-1.

It must not forget.

7:30 a.m: It wakes in a bed.

- It is built for two inside the cabin.

7:45 a.m: It takes a short walk around the cabin's perimeter.

- The cabin is rusty, with multiple holes and cracks in its walls, which it puts its fingers through. Despite this, the cabin manages to stand.

8:00 a.m: It reaches its right hand into its chest, producing two fresh eggs, two slices of bacon, and two glasses of orange juice. It prepares both, and sets a table in the middle of the cabin for breakfast.

- It waits, because that's what it does best. Perhaps it is a little naive. It eats one, and puts the other one back into its chest cavity. It's not used to this new routine without her.

8:35 a.m: It goes out to the rubble of the stable, 50 paces from the cabin.

- The wood bent its bow and creaked its swan song a month after it happened. Should have given it more care. It fell a long time ago, but it can go riding again later. It stands outside for some time, reminiscing about horses.

9:00 a.m: He reads.

- He does his best to ignore the brunettes in the book. It's an old poem book too. He liked to write them for people.

10:30 a.m: He avoids his gravestone as he walks again.

- The small mound of dirt still seems undisturbed, as the grass begins to grow on the dirt. His old shovel is jutting through it, being claimed by small tendrils of moss. The men in white coats have been forbidden to see it. He made sure of that. The inscription on the stone has long been eroded and forgotten. All that remains is the word "LONE." Ironic.

11:00 a.m: He looks at each plant he cared for, now grown big and tall.

- He is proud. If only she were here to see it. She always was fond of that. She was a wizard with her knife and the bonsai.

12:00 p.m: He attempts to bake with a large Dutch oven in the middle of the cabin.

- It has fallen into disrepair, its top reclaimed by vines and ivy. She was much better at that than he was.

12:30 p.m: He does not eat.

- He is not hungry.

1:45 p.m: He writes in his journal, produced from his pericardial sac. Or at least, where it would be, if it was still there. A large gash is present instead, with an object in it.

- He wonders if she ever thinks about him. He remembers how quiet she used to get. How she'd be alone from him. He misses her, even when she did that. He'd take her doing that over anything else, over this existence.

2:55 p.m: He sings, its tune softly carried among the breeze.

- It's much more loud now. Foolishly, he thinks that such gestures may be heard by her. Wherever she is.

3:20 p.m: He is alone, sitting on a creaky chair.

- There is a hole in him.

4:15 p.m: He phases through the men in white.

- They may be helping, but he does not care. He cleans around the house, to prepare it for when she returns.

5:20 p.m: He attempts to look in the mirror.

- There is nothing there. He changes clothes many times. Still, he is nothing, there.

6:00 p.m: Darren loses hope.

- He tries to tell himself everything will be ok.

6:30 p.m: There is a knock at the door no one but he can hear. He opens the door. The man is back.

- Out of pity, he only gives Darren a bit of wheat from his fields, freshly scythed. He tells Darren he will come back for him later. He's said that before. Many times.

6:45 p.m: The man comes back. No one hears him. He and Darren play poker. The man leaves.

- His reassurances mean nothing over Darren's uncertainty. It rips and tears and never lets go. Even when he tries to not think of her.

7:00 p.m: Darren prepares dinner again. Stew, two bowls, just as normal.

- She'll come back. He reads the paper, attempting to make conversation, but it's the same old, same old. He talks, no response. He feels his fire burning out.

8:00 p.m: He sits outside.

- The oak tree in the corner reminds him of what he's lost. So does the moon's light. Maybe she's looking at it too right now, and thinking of him. His blood is on her hands, but that's okay. He'd forgive her, if it meant he could hold her again.

8:30 p.m: Darren hates missing her this much.

- He dreams of being in the moonlight with her, even if she did get angry or sad. Dancing. Her calling him darling, where he could feel like one again. As if nothing else mattered.

9:00 p.m: Darren throws out a piece of paper to his grave.

- Keep the stupid poem. It feels weird to do this. As if he's letting go. No. He's not supposed to move on. Idiot. He swears never to do it again.

10:00 p.m: Darren falls asleep. It goes.

- Everything will never be ok.
- He does it all again.
- He hopes. He waits.
- It is what he does best.
- But nothing will be the same again.

Note: SCP-XXXX-1 broke routine on 02/04/2014, by throwing an incorporeal pencil at a gravestone in SCP-XXXX. No other different actions were performed. This gravestone was not present prior to SCP-XXXX-1's actions. Personnel located a coffin 6 feet under, containing the remains of Mr. Josephus Helio. Cause of death was determined to be blood loss stemming from a knife to the heart.

Ms. Ersut was found in a California graveyard 400 km away. The inscription on her gravestone reads: "Beloved wife, mother, and grandmother. Has no regrets about her life she lived, before this one." An outstanding arrest warrant for Mr. Helio's murder was still filed under her name.

image cred;https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cabin_(15274774462).jpg

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License