SCP-7948: I Don't Care What The Peephole Says!

Author: Cyvstvi.

Cyvstvi

I Don't Care What The Peephole Says! by Cyvstvi

Item#: 7948

Containment Class: neutralized

Secondary Class: {$secondary-class}

Disruption Class: {$disruption-class}

Risk Class: {$risk-class}

Fig 1.1: The Slip-On Inn.

Special Containment Procedures: A Foundation front company has purchased the Slip-On Inn and is currently undergoing efforts to acquire a demolition permit for the site. Remotely-operated CCTV cameras have been installed at the site to prevent any further attempts at unauthorised entry. A pair of guards are to be stationed on-site at all times; one at the entrance to the site and another outside of the fire door leading to SCP-7948.

Following mental health evaluation and interviews, the former illegal residents of the Slip-On Inn are to be relocated to homelessness and crisis shelters throughout the state of California, United States of America. Mobile Task Force Sigma-84 ("Local Moles") have been assigned to run long-term surveillance on these individuals.

SCP-7948 has been considered neturalized since March 27th, 1996.

Description: SCP-7948 refers to Room 101 at the Slip-On Inn, a disused and abandoned motel situated along an empty stretch of the I-10, located north of Palm Springs, California. A broken neon sign depicting a pair of red puckered lips stands in the establishment's car park; faded white lettering beneath the sign advertises that rooms are available to rent by the hour.

Between 1993 and 1996, SCP-7948 was inhabited by an unidentified entity capable of verbally communicating in English. The existence of the entity therein has solely been evidenced by alleged first-hand encounters taking place between it and the motel's patrons. No visual recordings, photographs, nor documentation of this entity are known to exist.1

According to the testimony of former patrons, the entity would attempt to engage the subject with idle conversation, urging them to approach the room's peephole, before finally inviting them to enter SCP-7948. Whilst details vary upon the nature and behaviour of the entity, all reports universally claim that the only part of the entity visible through the peephole was a single eyeball pressed against the smeared glass.

Addendum 7948.1: Discovery

For several years, Palm Springs Police Department regularly received reports of unusual activity related to the Slip-On Inn during the period of the American spring break. These reports were routinely dismissed by police dispatchers and officers due to the overwhelming majority of witnesses consisting of students whose testimonies were considered to have been influenced by recreational drugs and illicit substances.

On March 25th, 1996, Mary Anne Hobbes, a student from UCLA, was reported missing. According to information published by the Palm Springs Police Department, Mary Anne had disappeared no more than a week prior to the reports and was last witnessed travelling along the I-10 whilst attempting to hitchhike within the car park of the Slip-On Inn.

The following recording was obtained from a portable handheld camcorder discovered immediately outside of the entrance to SCP-7948. Footage recovered from the handheld camcorder identified it as belonging to the then-missing Mary Anne Hobbes. The camcorder itself was thoroughly coated by a thin, clear film of liquid.

Audio Log Transcript

Date: 27/03/19962

Participant: Mary Anne Hobbes

[Begin Transcript]

The video opens with the operator – assumed to be Mary Anne Hobbes – directing the camcorder towards a fire door. The sound of frenetic laughter, distressed yelling, and loud swearing can be heard in the distance behind her. Hobbes hurriedly pushes the fire door open and enters the hallway. The fire door slowly swings shut with a laboured creak and Hobbes leans against the closed door.

Mary Anne Hobbes: It's all gonna be fine.

After stopping to catch her breath, Hobbes continues to walk down the hallway. The yellowing plaster paint is peeling away from the enclosing walls revealing aged floral wallpaper beneath its surface. The hallway's roof is marked by numerous dark stains and its fuzzy green carpet is covered in layers upon layers of dust. As she approaches the end of the hallway, a muffled masculine voice calls out to her.

Unidentified Voice: You!

Mary Anne Hobbes comes to a sudden halt and fumbles with the camcorder between her hands, before pointing it at the door; it is an otherwise unremarkable blue door.

Unidentified Voice: Yeah, that's right — you — c'mere, won't you? Promise I don't bite or nothing.

Mary Anne Hobbes: I'd rather not—

Unidentified Voice: Whatcha goin' to do? Head back the way you came? Off to hang out with the rest of my uninvited housemates? The drug addicts, prostitutes, and dishevelled homeless bums; all the dregs and riff-raff of modern society?

Mary Anne Hobbes: I—

Unidentified Voice: Nah, you're a smart girl and smart girls make smart decisions. I already told you I don't bite. I'm just after some chit-chat is all. Keep an old thing company, won't you?

Mary Anne Hobbes remains quiet.

Unidentified Voice: Tough crowd tonight, eh? (Pauses) How'd a pretty lil' thing like you end up in a place like this anyways? You don't look like no whore to me and you're certainly not the type to be scrounging around for your next fix.

Mary Anne Hobbes: (Muffled)—'m lost.

Unidentified Voice: Nice to meetcha 'm lost, I'm— well, it don't really matter who I am, does it? So, you're lost, are you?

Mary Anne Hobbes: Yes—

Unidentified Voice: I've been lost for several years myself. Never really found my bearings in all of this mess. I mean, just look around you. The owner has clearly let this place go to the dogs.

Mary Anne Hobbes: You live here?

Unidentified Voice: Sure do, it's called Squatters' Rights, my dear, or adverse possession — really depends on who you're asking. Nobody was occupying this room so I saw my chance and slipped on in real quick. Despite all my attempts to get his attention, the owner refuses to come calling and so I think I'm entitled to my free stay. I only get the occassional visitor like yourself once in a blue moon— say, what was your name again?

Mary Anne Hobbes: Mary—

Unidentified Voice: Mary? A lovely name! The broad next door was called Marisa, and that's close enough ain't it?—

The camcorder is pointed to her left and then to her right. There are no other rooms adjacent to Room 101.

Unidentified Voice: —she was a fantastic little piece, you should've seen her – all hips and curves – and she was quite the fucking screamer too.

Mary Anne Hobbes: I'm sorry?

Unidentified Voice: Oh, do pardon my French. I said she was a screamer. Y'know, the type to howl when—

Mary Anne Hobbes: (Mumbled) You're disgusting…

Unidentified Voice: You take what you can get these days, Mary…

As the voice continues describing various vulgarities, the operator directs the camcorder directly at Room 101's filthy peephole; a single eyeball leers back at the camera lens.

Unidentified Voice: You can come as close as you like, dear. I already told you, I ain't no biter. Same can't be said for the last lad that I invited inside. He was quite the biter. A bruise here, bitemarks there. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and neither could I.

Mary Anne remains silent. Loud knocking and banging can be heard behind her.

Unidentified Voice: Who you hiding from, my dear? They seem rather eager to meetcha.

Mary Anne continues to remain silent; panicked breathing is audible over the camcorder's microphone.

Unidentified Voice: Is it Jackie from 3-oh-3, or was it Jake? He's a mean and loud brute; though, you don't strike me as his type. It's those dancing straight boys who get his wet lips smacking. Maybe Tracey from 3-oh-4. You're more her style; all soft and squishy. Nubile — that's what she'd been callin' you. You'd make her feel young again, limp and lifeless between her fingers.

The panicked breathing becomes louder as the frantic knocking and banging raises in volume.

Unidentified Voice: I suppose I could let you inside. Come hideaway in here with me, Mary. Who's it going to be; them — or me?

The sound of a lock turning is audible from the other side of Room 101 as the door cracks ajar. Suddenly, the camcorder is dropped to the ground and the lens shatters as a female voice cries out in shock. There is a momentary pause before the audio continues recording. A soft squelching noise is heard as something slithers over the camcorder, dragging it across the carpeted floor and under the gap between itself and the unassuming door to Room 101.

Shortly after recovering the handheld camcorder, Foundation field agents proceeded to force entry into SCP-7948, thereby discovering the unsanitary living conditions of the feculent room's interior, consisting of a worn mattress thoroughly stained by various bodily fluids surrounded by heaped piles of stained, discarded masculine and feminine clothing. Swab tests conducted on the articles of clothes recovered traces of foreign saliva, sweat, and other excretory fluids.

Despite their best efforts, field agents were unsuccessful at forcing entry into SCP-7948's adjacent bathroom. Subsequent efforts by a HMCL disposal team discovered it had been fused shut by its festering and congealed contents; partially-digested and regurgitated human viscera, tissue, hair, and bone. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the bathroom – all constructed from drywall exhibiting severe moisture damage – featured extensive cavitations behind their surfaces, all of which converged upon the peephole of SCP-7948.

The detailed inspection of the room by the HMCL disposal team resulted in the discovery of a rusted metal grate concealed beneath a heap of indiscernable refuse. Following the removal of the metal grate, a member of the disposal team reached into the duct and recovered a series of sodden garments identified as formerly belonging to a young female adult; all of which exhibited evidence of severe mastication.