Fernand's Memoir - SCP Foundation

Notes from Dr. Bernstein's personal audio journal:

10.27.2016: SCP-082 made an unusual request this afternoon. Instead of asking for clothes like it usually does, it asked for a set of books. Specifically, it asked for books of poetry, as well as an issue of Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus. SCP-082 has also asked for a stack of paper, along with a quill. All requests have been approved, and the materials should arrive by tomorrow morning. Since its request, SCP-082 has refused all food and water, and sits quietly in its chamber. Quite peculiar behavior for a skip so amiable…Well, as amiable as an 8 foot cannibal can be.

10.28.2016: Ever since SCP-082 has gotten those books, it's been reading and writing nonstop. I've been surveying it for five hours and it hasn't taken a single break. It has used up three full stacks of paper already, most of which is crumpled on the floor. What the hell is it up to?

10.31.2016: I have never seen 082 this happy before. When I came into my shift this morning, it was still writing. It's been listening to more upbeat music and I saw it dancing to some of the tunes. If someone told me that I would spend my day watching a 700 pound cannibal dance like a ballerina, while writing poetry, and humming to Chopin, I'd laugh in their face.

11.3.2016: Still writing. It's still writing. Over the past few days, it's gone through ten stacks of paper. Well, I guess this is better than eating off the heads of the D-class.

082 spoke to me today. It said that it wished to read me a piece of poetry that it wrote. Oddly, it seemed quite genuine with its emotion. I told it that it could read it to me tomorrow, as it was 11 at night, and I needed to go to bed. 082 seemed alright with it, and I headed home. What the hell did I get myself into?

Audio Log 082-A

Audio Log 082-A:

Foreword: The following is an interview of SCP-082 by Dr. Bernstein, head of SCP-082's containment.

[BEGIN LOG (11.4.2016)]

Dr. Bernstein: What exactly did you want to show us, 082?

SCP-082: It is a piece of literature that I have written. I'm quite proud of it.

Dr. Bernstein: *sigh* Alright then. Go ahead, 082.

SCP-082: One moment please. I just need to reorganize my pages. (papers rustling) My apologies. I'm not normally this flustered…I'm ready.

Dr. Bernstein: Any time, 082.

SCP-082: Here we go. And—and do be warned. This is the first piece of poetry I have written. It will not be perfect.

Dr. Bernstein: I'm sure it's fine 082. Go on and read it.

SCP-082: Alright. Here we go. (clears throat)

In the dank, deep depths of the dark alleyway,

Where no man can see the light of day,

There stood a boy wearing tattered attire,

And, in the corner, a small campfire.

With rags as a sleeping mat, and a box for a house,

And laying there, quiet as a mouse,

The boy knew not to make any sound,

For he knew what would happen if he were to be found.

While sleeping in his cot, the boy slept well,

And felt, as a whole, rather swell.

The boy woke the next morning, hearing a shout,

And from his cot, he began to sprout.

Looking to the light, he saw a figure,

Though its full shape, he could not configure.

Two more entered sight, all were a blur.

Should the boy run? He was unsure.

The figures came charging at a rapid motion,

Nothing could be heard over the commotion.

They grabbed the boys limbs, and pulled him madly,

The boy had to flee, but he could not, sadly.

Trapped by the figures, he was unable to walk,

With a cloth over his mouth, he was unable to talk.

With a thump on the head, his world became dark,

And along with the men, they disembarked.

With a groggy grunt, the boy awoke with tears,

He was locked in a cage, the worst of his fears.

Draped in red, he could not see,

With bars of steel, he could not flee.

There was a rustle, then a light so bright,

The boy had almost lost his sight.

Then, a man, with a twinkle in his eye

Grabbed a cane and top hat, then began to outcry:

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of any age!

Allow me to show you what is in this cage.

Around the world, I've travelled, sea to sea,

And I have brought a gift for thee to see.

Be warned, you may run crying in fear,

And this gift may also cause you to tear.

But fret not, my dears, for it will cause no harm

For if he does, I'll cut off his arm!"

"This great, hefty beast has arms so strong,

That he could cut down trees all year long.

Yes, it's true, this beast has some muscle,

He could certainly proclaim victory in any tussle.

But folks, if you will have a look at this creature!

We must not neglect his most prominent feature.

With jaws of steel, and teeth so bright,

This creature's smile could light up the night!"

The man turned to the boy, scowl on his face,

He whispered, "Come on, beast, pick up the pace!

Your audience is waiting, give em' a show!"

The man took the cane, then delivered a blow.

The boy shook with fear, not knowing what to do,

The audience before him began to boo.

With one last breath that reeked of bile,

The boy stood tall, and then, he smiled.

Cheers, cheers! Cheers all around!

Not a single frown was able to be found.

The man stepped forward, and said, "How about that?"

The crowd before him threw coins in his hat.

The man was rich, all thanks to the boy.

"Perhaps," the man thought, "there is more use for this toy"

Then the man reached into a pocket in his back,

He pulled out a whip, and let out a crack.

Blood cre—…blood…uh…

Dr. Bernstein: Are you alright, 082?

SCP-082: Yes…yes of course. Where was I? Oh yes:

Blood crept down the boy's back, as thick as molasses.

Brought to his knees, right before the masses.

The boy let out a roar, all could hear.

The crowd shrieked, then ran in fear.

The man chuckled, and looked at the boy,

Then said, "Oh come now, don't be so coy.

From here on out, I'll be your guide.

And, together, we shall travel far and wide!"

Days passed like months, and months like years.

Each day he was alive, he bathed in tears.

Was this his place, his final destination?

Is this life his only true application?

Whatever questions he asked, no one answered the boy.

For what was he if he not a toy?

It took many years, and much contemplation,

But at last, the boy received an explanation.

In the crypts of his mind, there came a voice.

This voice allowed the poor boy a choice.

Shall he remain in his cage, filled with dejection?

Or shall he get revenge with divine retaliation?

The boy stared at his thousands of scars,

Then brought his attention to the light of the stars.

In order to escape, the boy needed a plan,

But most of all, he must become a man.

It was the last day of the tour, the final show

What would happen? The boy did not know.

The man in the hat came out from the back.

He took out his whip, then gave another crack.

Still locked in his cage, the boy could not fight.

All he could do was shake with fright.

The man just chuckled, not giving a care.

He grabbed his cane, and gave one last declare:

"Now folks, hear me, as I tell you my feat!

I stand here, offering you all a treat.

After many years of teaching and rehabilitation,

I present this beast to the entire nation!

For he is no longer a beast, no longer so cruel,

And with my teachings, he is now my mule.

Don't believe me, you say? Need I show you?"

The man then unlocked the cage, and out the door flew.

Slowly, the boy inched from his crib,

To encourage him, the man jabbed him in the rib.

Picking up the pace, the boy made it out,

The audience before him let out a shout.

"Beast!" they called him. "Abomination!" they cried,

The boy could not smile, no matter how much he tried.

The man beside him, with eyes full of rage,

Shouted at the boy, while hitting the cage.

"Come on, my boy! What are you doing?

Can you not see that the audience is booing?

After all these years, and all of this time,

Now is when you decide to begrime?

Show them your power, show them your might!

For I know that you're human, just ever so slight.

Show them how a beast like you does no harm.

For if you don't, I will saw off your arm!"

The boy stood still, unable to move.

He could not find his internal groove.

The crypts of his mind internally froze,

Then suddenly, in front of him, a shadow arose.

The shadow engulfed the boy, entrapped his soul,

Then slowly and quietly, it began to cajole.

Finally, the boy knew what must be done,

And chuckled to himself, "Let's have some fun."

The boy grabbed his captor, and held him tight.

He stared into his eyes, and saw the fright.

As the boy lifted the man, the man screamed in fear.

From his left eye, the boy saw him tear.

The boy did not care, he had no remorse,

For he knew that this man was truly so coarse.

The boy opened his jaws, and placed the man inside.

And though it was muffled, the man still cried.

He squirmed in his mouth, as the boy began to munch,

Then he grew limp with one final CRUNCH.

(SCP-082 is silent for a minute, and then continues)

Blood gushed in the boy's mouth, it was quite a sight.

Still, unrelenting, the boy held on tight.

For he was no longer a boy, much more vicious and malicious.

As he devoured the man's flesh, he whispered, "How delicious."

Still wanting more, he turned to the crowd,

Who had already started running and screaming aloud.

The beast chased after, grabbing a few.

He ripped off their arms, then began to chew.

After those few, he grabbed some more.

He ripped out their entrails, which leaked on the floor.

After those meals, he ran to the street.

He feasted on those with livers so sweet.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a young man,

With a pair of ripped trousers, and a gun in his hand.

Though he tried to take on the beast,

It was upon his corpse that the beast would feast.

But before the beast could go any more,

He took a look down, and stared at the gore,

For this boy was like him, alone and afraid,

With no one else who would give him aid.

The beast was now alone, blood creeping in his scars,

No one could see him except for the stars.

With much shame, the beast fled the scene,

For he did not know how he could be this obscene.

He took shelter in the woods, unable to cope

With the actions he made; he was out of hope.

He washed himself in a nearby river,

Scraping off the remnants of the young man's liver.

He grabbed some leaves, and then some sticks,

Then made a small cot, in which he affixed

A small drape for a door, and some leaves that were dead,

This was the only things the beast could call his bed.

(SCP-082 begins to tear, but continues to speak)

After the night passed, he awoke in a room,

With many bright lights, and a mood so gloom.

There were people above, staring at the aberration.

The creature then knew the reality of the situation.

His life flashed again, all of the pain,

All the creature could do was exclaim.

For he was again alone, with nothing to do.

Then, a voice from above said, "Hello, 082."

(SCP-082 breaks down into a fit of crying)

Dr. Bernstein: Is that…is that all 082?

SCP-082: (sniffs) Yes…yes that is all. Thank you for your time.

(SCP-082 travels to the corner of the containment chamber and sits, facing the wall)

[END LOG]