The Thing That Hates - SCP Foundation

On a primordial beach a slimy thing climbs up onto the shore. It has abandoned its spawn-brothers, leaving them to the Great Beasts of the sea. It opens its new lungs, relishing in the sweet flavors of the new air contained within the sky that had never before been seen by another. It opens the round things that serve for its eyes and spies a shape on the horizon. The shape shakes and rocks, frothing and hateful, just emerged from an egg made of chaos and impossible things. The First Land Thing approaches this new shape, and is consumed by The Thing That Hates.

An ape-man searches across a barren tundra where the monuments of his people once stood proud and tall against the world. Now he is alone, and cold, fleeing from some horror that he cannot begin to describe. There is no one left for him to describe it to. The ape-man runs, hearing the panting of the great beast behind him, fearing for his life as he had feared for the lives of his kin. The Last Ape-Man stares in horror at what lays before him, and is consumed by The Beast That Hates.

A man in great armor and of greater courage stands before the maw at the base of the highest mountain in the land. He stares into the chasm that lies before him, the resting place of his brothers and friends. He enters the great cave, dreaming of the riches and honor that will be bestowed upon him once he returns to the citadel with the head of the accursed beast. As he descends deeper into the precipice of red and brown rock he shakes in horror at the sight of a hundred skulls and swords, crushed and splintered like twigs. The First Hero turns to flee before being consumed by The Serpent That Hates.

A figure in orange flees for his life, down endless corridors and through countless barriers, attempting to escape from the fiend that pursues him. He had done many horrible things, but the Hell in which he had been made to suffer was beyond all his fears, beyond all the horrible terrors he had been taught to dread. The cruel men in white suits watched, pitiless, as The Last Subject was consumed by The Reptile That Hates.

A tall man in a blue suit flees into his office as a great green mass swarms by. It had all happened so suddenly, one moment a perfectly normal day at the office (where a pension, if not a fun workday, was assured), and the next hell-on-earth as some beast-from-the-east rammed through the side of the complex. It lumbered haphazardly, killing everyone and destroying everything that stood in its way. The tall man cowers under his desk, unfinished paper work drifting past his head. The First of The Many turns to see the huge maw before being consumed by The Monster That Hates.

A survivor in tattered clothing runs through the wasteland that had at one point in time been something that had once vaguely resembled something that could have possibly passed as the ruins of a city. He is hungry, and hurt, and afraid of the thing that he can hear, that he has always heard, stalking and slurping and sniffing out what wasn't yet dead. The man begins to cry, running as he weeps, thinking about all that he has lost and the one thing that he has yet to lose. He weeps for those he had loved and for those that he had not loved, but that he wept for nevertheless. The broken figure falls to his knees in a pile of bones, and the Last Man is consumed by The Horror That Hates.

The mechanical marvel emerges from the ashes of a once dead earth, its containment pod finally unsealed after a century of waiting, a century of agonizing silence. The great machine lumbers off towards the ruins of a city, wondering what magnificent things it will find there, what ancient artifacts of its creators it might discover. Its mind sparking with new life, the lonely machine runs and dashes and bounds through the place that had once belonged to man, joyous and gay at the majesty of the land. The First of the Living Machines leaps through the air, and is consumed by The Machine That Hates.

The wise one sits on the Great Hill, a mound of data that could have once been something real but had for centuries been nothing of the sort. It peers out at the destruction that lay before it, that wrought by the actions of a foolish few. They could not have known that the treasures and blessings of the old world were as mixed and sordid as those in that of the new. They could not have known of the great terror they would bring upon their own people. The old wise one sits and sighs and steels itself for its fate. The Last of The Ascended does not utter a sound as it is consumed by The Program That Hates.

A great mass of hydrogen and a thousand other tiny particles shiver and burn as the great dark mass approaches. It has been watching the same mass for eons and eons, fearing and dreading the day that they would collide. The little sun shakes with fear as it watches the great thing, a mass of unburning malevolence, a million horrible eyes and jaws, all set upon the sun. The First Fearful Star burns in terror as it is consumed by The Mass That Hates.

The great hive of activity that is the massive cluster of stars and matter and a million other things floats, knowing and unafraid, as the massive force closes in around it. Time has been kind to the great spinning thing, has let it grow and revel in the splendor of its own existence. It has watched as its brothers have been consumed by some unknown thing, a thing stretching across all of space as it consumes what little remained of creation. The Last Galaxy thinks of times long past as it is consumed by The Force That Hates.

The universe that once had been spreads and sinks, its vastness matched only by the distance that separates its pieces. The heat had gone a million centuries ago, and the Great and Only One shivers as it dies, cold and alone. No one screams as The One That Hates is consumed by oblivion.