| have traced to find a deep black hole, 

All the blood flooded roaring underneath. 
| heard crows laughed vague and distant, 
From the star-like holes the heaven bore. 


| have seen the crowd approach once more, 
With broken masks and decaying bodies. 

The food they carried sprout rats and maggots, 
The wine in their glasses a dark red liquid. 


| have dived down deep into the great fall of madness, 
And heard laughter come from the Ambassador. 

| recalled meeting with the Hanged King, 

All chained and bandaged with a painful moaning. 


| have landed in a tunnel as the waves washed me, 
Decay and mold crawled upon my body. 

| have crawled deep down to the center, 

And saw the mark of the dragon. 


| have looked around the chamber, 

But it was void and empty. 

The blood dried and the waves ceased, 
And the structure around still and lifeless. 


| have arrived at the bowels of the city, 
Resting in its long dead rotting body. 
| have smelled death upon approaching, 


Only to find it was something even more empty. 


It was the shape of a great dragon, 

Who once resided here for ages and ages. 
But now a mere hole dark and gaping, 
The phantom of a god ripping reality. 


| have seen the hole of the great dragon, 
In the dark center of Alagadda. 

My mind shattered before the truth, 

As | screamed and screamed. 


All the blood for the Hanged King, 

But he was a mere tunnel for the greater things. 
The blood and flesh flowed into a great brass cage, 
A prison where the dragon patiently waiting. 


To Mother's Call, To Father's Wish 


+ Gernot, Circa 1700 CE, Bavaria 


In a war-torn battlefield, 

| hold up my lifeless body. 

Once a being of flesh, 

Now a meatless thing. 

A serpent coils around my spine, 
| hear it say to me: 

"Mother has heard your call, 
Father is broken but waiting. 

To whose call you will answer, 
Down whose path you will walk?" 


| ask it for Hell and Heaven, 

And hear the crows laugh at me. 

The serpent crawls up to my skull, 

And whispers to me soft things. 

"Hell and Heaven are but foolish dreams, 
Father has asked you to purify your soul, 
And ascend into godly machines. 

Or do you want be like Mother, 


Merge your soul with body, 
To be a dragon reborn from the ashes?" 


| ask it which way is to salvation, 

Which way is the devil’s wish. 

The serpent slips into my empty chest, 

And rests where my heart was beating. 

"Both ways are divine as your creators, 

Both paths are that of the dragons. 

But blood and mercury was shed over the decision, 
As Mother and Father fought for ages. 

To choose one is to be damned by another, 

To answer Mother’s call, or to fulfill Father's wish?" 


| can feel my bones cracking, 

Where new flesh is to be. 

| can hear the call from heaven, 
Where my spirit can ascend godly. 
Do | walk immortal among the living, 
Do | become a god all-seeing? 

| ponder over the question, 

As the serpent slips down and away, 
As the crows cease laughing, 

And my skeleton reduces to ashes. 


To the Dragons’ Witness 


+ Zigian, 1900 - 1800 BCE, South China 


In the great abyss the two dragons resided, 
Their forms grand and their glory uncanny. 
Eons after Pangu separated earth from heaven, 
The dragons rose from Yang and Yin. 


One is flesh and matter concentrated, 
The other of wind and pure spirit. 

One called Niwa, our great mother, 

The other one Fuxi, who guided us wisely. 


To the great fields the two dragons went, 


Storms and thunders raging in between. 
They had seen fish in seas and birds in heaven, 
While great beasts strolled the wilderness. 


Grand as high mountains and long valleys, 

No one was there to witness. 

Delicate as early flowers and shallow streams, 
No one was there to see. 


It was when Nuwa sighed, 

That mankind was created. 

From the ancient soil she shaped our bodies, 
Into the husks great life she breathed. 


Nuwa bestowed us forms and senses, 
Built us into great serpents as she is. 
Fuxi gave us souls and minds, 
Taught us wisdom and knowledge. 


Above the great cities the two dragons lingered, 

High towers and gigantic machines lined beneath. 
Their proud descendants now ruled the land, 
Serpents as they were, shaping mountains and seas. 


Fish caught in the nets, birds now in cages, 

The great beast there no longer, as wilderness vanished. 
Storms and thunders paled by their inventions, 

Fires and waters obeyed man's wishes. 


In the great skies the two dragons fought, 

Their teeth sharp and their claws clutching. 

Niwa demanded that we be beasts once more, 

Fuxi wanted us to learn, and become greater beings. 


Heavens collapsed with Yin and Yang disturbed, 
Grounds shattered as fire and water rampaged. 
Metal and bones impaling the body of another, 
As the two dragons roared and wept. 


Down the great abyss the two dragons battled, 
One asked to destroy and one preserving. 


They returned exactly 24-hours later. Six were dead and 
four appear to have been subjected to amnestics. The 
two who were coherent told interviewers that nobody 
seemed to recognize them in the alternate universe. 


Name: Dr. De Vries 

Date: 1/21/2017 

Items Used: One (1) complete core set of the 
"Dungeons and Dragons" books in 3.5e and one (1) 
bottle of generic vitamin 'gummies'. 


Input: One (1) complete core set of the "Dungeons and 
Dragons" books in 3.5e. 

Setting: Fine 

Output: One large book measuring 2" by 11" by 9" titled 
"The Complete Dungeons and Dragons Core Set 3.5e". 
Upon inspection the book was determined to be a 
combined version of all three previous books written in 
‘Milwich' English font. 


Dr. DeVries: "I'll be keeping this in the lounge if anyone 
wants to use this. I'll also be holding a game next 
Tuesday. Bring your own character sheets." 


Input: One (1) bottle of generic vitamin 'gummies'. 
Setting: 1:1 
Output: One (1) bottle of generic vitamin tablets. 


Dr. DeVries: "| don't know why I expected anything else." 


Name: Dr. Cykes 

Date: 2/2/17 

Total Items: Five(5) brand violins, five (5) brand 
violin bows 


Input: One(1) brand violin and bow 

Setting: Rough 

Output: A small pile of sawdust, plastic fragments, metal 
shavings, and stiff, short hairs. 


As Niwa's rage could not be appeased, 
Fuxi shattered himself to be a cage, trapping her in 
Taisuixing. 


Of Politics 


David entered the apartment block, covering his mouth with a soiled 
silk rag. It did not help much; his lungs itched and burned from the 
dense haze that blanketed the city, which served as a constant 
reminder of the day previous. In an effort to prevent it drifting in, he 
slammed the door shut quickly. 


He stormed up the stairs, footsteps clattering like a typewriter. He 
soon exhausted himself, despite being fit and young. He rested, 
wheezing, on the third landing. There was a wide poster opposite to 
him, depicting the “Benevolent” Leader, a great wolfspider, feasting 
on flies with tophats and monocles. “DON'T BE A CAPITALIST'S 
MAGGOT,” the caption read. 


A vivid image came to him; a protest sign laying among lifeless 
corpses, their limbs at disjointed angles. “FREEDOM OR DEATH,,” it 
read, in bold lettering. It was almost charming in its naivety. Like all 
of them had been. 


Tears welled up in David's eyes, and he kicked that blasted poster. 
Once, twice. The wall crumbled beneath the force, and one of his 
legs became caught, knee deep, in the wall. 


“Goddamnit!” he swore, and extricated himself, struggling. Clouds of 
dust swirled up as he did so. Swearing, he took the poster, tore it up 
into little pieces, and stormed again up the stairs and into his 
apartment. 


It was crowded with useless junk and litter. Sheets covered the floor. 
“LIBERTY PRESS,” most pieces read, with bold title headings 
saying things like "DON'T BE CAUGHT IN THE COMMUNIST'S 
WEB." He opened his freezer and sourly took a bottle of the 
strongest drink he had; light beer. It would take him, what, a hundred 
liters to get drunk on that? He could probably do better drinking 
water. 


He took himself, crumpled into the porous brown sofa, and cleared 
the cluttered table beside it, sitting the bottle on it. Irritatedly, he 
realised he should use a coaster, and took the nearest scrap of 
paper for this purpose. 


“Working a shift, will be back late - XOXOXO, Melanie,” it read. 
Another reminder! Goddamnit! Melanie was dead, like all the others, 
he reminded himself, taking a swill. In a way he was lucky, really. He 
tore the paper scrap up and cast it away, ignoring his previous 
concern about coasters. There was a certain irony, he mused, to 
being concerned about those little circle-stains when the room was 
so Cluttered with filth. 


Yesterday. 


Yesterday was the day of the protest march. He had helped 
organise it, of course; that's why all the papers were there. He had 
written scathing critiques of communism, as part of the Liberty 
Press. So had Melanie. They had urged the people to action. 


And action they had made. A few thousand people gathered in the 
square, bearing signs of protest, shouting slogans. And then... 


And then, a ghastly green haze had drifted in. At first, people had 
assumed it was just from the industry. Since “Benevolent Leader,” 
there had been a great industrial boom. And with it, smog came 
often. But no; it did not just itch and burn the lungs. 


It killed. It killed swiftly and suddenly. The fuckers had used 
chemical weapons! Chemical weapons on peaceful protesters! 


Those fuckers. They had killed almost everyone he knew. His 
mother had been taken in the purges, like most of the older 
generation. He remembered his mother. She had been a huge 
woman, much, much larger than any man; kind but domineering. 
She had killed his father swiftly and mercifully. 


His sisters had been conscripted. He did not know what had 
happened to them (you never did). They were probably dead; buried 
together in their own mass grave. His brothers, they had been 
forced into prostitution. Most, he knew, had been brutally murdered 


by clients. His friends, of course, were dead with the protesters. 
Even that friendly homeless man had just disappeared one day. 


He had liked that homeless man. 


REPORT: 


SCP-1006 has placed a request for less mosquito 
spraying in the surrounding park area, following Incident 
1006-12, which resulted in the expiration of multiple 
SCP-1006 instances gathered at the dispersion point. 


Signed: Agent Boyles 


Friends in Dark Places 


I'm not really sure how | wound up in the water. The rush of currents 
and crunch of impact after impact as | was dragged along the rocks 
by the merciless current drove everything else from my mind. 
Thinking back, | don't remember how | wound up in that particular 
section of rapids at all, much less how | was separated from my 
kayak. 


The thing no one really tells you about whitewater currents is how 
loud they are. Even as | was dragged along, bouncing from rock to 
rock like some strange sad cross between a pinball and a pinata, | 
managed to marvel at the rush and roar of the water all around me. 
For some reason, I'd always expected drowning to be silent. 


Forgive the cliche, but what must have been seconds felt like an 
eternity. | distinctly remember having time to regret having worn my 
nice watch as it shattered against the stones, and to wonder how | 
was going to replace it. | soent what felt like hours careening down 
the rapids, until a particularly hard boulder impacted my head and 
time stopped entirely. 


When | woke up, | was lying in a few inches of water in absolute 
darkness. 


| sat up, rubbing my bleeding head, and fumbled in my pocket for 
the box of waterproof matches | always carried on my outdoorsy 
excursions. Incredibly, the current hadn't managed to tear them 
away from me. Hands shaking, | managed to open the box and 
extract a match. | struck it. 


Before my eyes could adjust to the glare, it was extinguished. 
"I'm sorry." 


The voice was hoarse and soft, like a tenor with a terrible cold. 


"Fire uses oxygen. We've got a limited supply of that. Welcome to 
hell.” 


Later, | learned that my companion in the darkness was a fellow lost 
kayaker who'd been washed down into the same underwater cave 
some time before. He wouldn't tell me what he'd had to eat beyond 
"| ran out.", and something in his voice told me | didn't want to know. 
Navigating the cave by feel, I'd come across the remains of a two 
man canoe. 


He'd been digging for a while. With a grunt, | joined him. The tunnel 
was narrow but long, stretching mostly upward except for where it 
had to curve below a particularly tenacious boulder or seam. "Three 
more days, | think." he told me, in one of the rare moments we 
spoke. "Think you can hold out that long?" And he laughed, then, for 
a long time. 


So we dug. Without a watch, | had no way to tell how much time was 
passing, but his guess was more or less correct. Eventually, he 
paused. "I'm going to go, er... yeah. I'll be back." 


He dragged himself back down the tunnel without another word. A 
few seconds later, | burst through topsoil into light. 


Blinded by the glare, | lay there for a few minutes, soaking up the 
warmth and light, before realizing | could hear no sound of my 
companion. | called out, but heard no answer. So | widened the 
hole, letting light down into the tunnel, and farther into the cave. 
Silence was the only answer. 


| clambered down the tunnel, surprisingly short in the daylight, and 
looked around the cave. There, in the corner, next to the crushed 
canoe and a pile of gnawed human bones, lay a dessicated corpse, 
months dead, with a shovel in its hand. 


| ran. When rescuers found me, lost and gibbering in the woods, it 
had been four days since | went missing. 


Old Faithful 


From the Journal of Agent Breen: 


It started when | found this spoon on an assignment from Area 
Director Smith in an old clinic. No one briefed me on anything, so | 
wasn't sure what | was getting into. It was in the cafeteria. The 
cafeteria was empty, save for some cobwebs and silverware on the 
ground. Nothing strange was there at all. Found an irregular looking 
spoon, picked it up, and the walls started bleeding. | could smell iron 
and fecal matter everywhere. | sat there trying to take things in. | 
was told | should go in expecting things like this in the first place. 


The walls... | don't know for sure but something about them just 
seemed off (aside from the blood, of course). There was a warp 
along the wallpaper; | could feel something watching me. | swore | 
saw a tongue stick out. A brown sludge started seeping out as well. 
It was like some sort of monster's ass was poking in from another 
dimension. Maybe that's it? Maybe we don't document extra-planar 
orifices. I'm not crazy. 


Well the air started to stink even more after that, it kept happening 
even after | dropped the spoon. Maybe it wasn't the spoon? Maybe 
the bogeyman just wanted me to walk in the cafeteria. | don't know. 
Anyway | picked up the spoon off the ground, which was now 
covered in sludge, and got the hell out of there. 


| stood in the hallway for a moment or two, | could still smell the iron 
and crap, but there wasn't anything else that was strange happening 
in the hallway. It was just the usual creepy-old abandoned clinic. | 
was shaking, so | took a few of the pills the Site Director provided for 
me to "calm me down", and sat there for a few moments recording 
an audio log on what just happened. 


Agent Breen reporting. Fenschermeister Sanitorium, 
02:32:23 


The situation remained normal until | entered the 
refectory. | discovered an old spoon on the ground and 
picked it up. Shortly afterwards the walls in the refectory 
began exuding large amounts of what appears and 
smells like blood and fecal matter. Reporting out, 
beginning a follo-.