My grip is weakening, and | know | can't hold on. | feel my hand slip 
from the hot edge of the walkway, and close my eyes as | prepare to 
die. Then | feel an impact, and something has me. | open my eyes to 


SCP-843: "Cow Seeds" 


Item #: SCP-843 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All 3 contained instances of 
SCP-843-1 are to be stored in their original packaging, within an 
airtight container. Should any unusual sounds be heard from within 
the container, D-class personnel armed with flamethrowers are to 
enter and cleanse the area. SCP-843-2 is to remain in an enclosed 
pen, with D-Class personnel entering every 12 hours to supply grain 
and water. Any instance of SCP-843-1 or SCP-843-2 in the wild are 
to be reported and destroyed. 


Description: SCP-843-1 appears to be a seed of Phaseolus lunatus 
(lima bean), painted white with black spots to resemble a typical 
Holstein cattle's coat. The original packaging for SCP-843-1 
contained 5 of these seeds, as well as a piece of paper proclaiming 
the items within to be 'Cow Seeds’. SCP-843-1 is itself harmless, 
though when planted within 5 days SCP-843-2 will manifest. 


SCP-843-2 is a creature similar to a typical Holstein cattle, save that 
it is composed entirely of an unknown plant matter. At first, 
SCP-843-2 is much like a young calf and is rooted to the soil it 
sprouted from. However, at anywhere between 5 and 10 days the 
calf will uproot itself and begin to grow at times the rate of a normal 
calf. After uprooting, SCP-843-2 will grow increasingly aggressive. 
As there is only one instance of SCP-843-2 in containment, it is not 
currently known how or even if SCP-843-2 reproduces, or how 
SCP-843-1 is formed. It is currently theorized that [DATA 
EXPUNGED]. 


SCP-843 was purchased on - -_ by Agent in a rural town in 
. Two seeds were planted in her garden and soon sprouted, 

showcasing SCP-843-2. reported and was able to contain one 

instance of SCP-843-2; however, the second escaped into rural 


see the face of one of the steel workers. He's let go of his pole, and 
he's simply holding me. Then he steps away from the furnace, 
carries me to a door, and sets me down on the other side. 


The linoleum beneath me is cool, and the air conditioner blasts 
down on me. | take several deep breaths, and thank god for ant hills 
and pheromones. Eventually, | stand up, and look for the exit. 


It's been two hours since the rescue team found me. When | didn't 
report in, they sent a team to check on me. There was apparently 
another wave of tickers trying to get in, but they dealt with them. I'm 
now in quarantine in the back of a truck. They already checked to 
make sure the tickers didn't do anything to me. They asked me 
questions to make sure | was still me (no, | don't feel like | belong 
there, yes, | work for the Foundation, no, I've never thought it would 
be "neat" to be a clock). Now it's just observation to make sure. 


| don't mind. It gives me time to think. Not about the Factory, or the 
Church, but about the stranger in the fedora. Whether or not he was 
Nobody, there was a nagging feeling I'd seen him before 
somewhere. It was a puzzle. 


While | ponder the riddle, | watch through the window as they 
complete the containment procedures. It's anti-climactic after all the 
excitement. No gunfights, no explosives. Just handing a letter to 
each and every person who leaves for the night. 


Notice of Termination 


It is our unpleasant duty to inform you that your services 
are no longer required at this facility. Due to budget cuts, 
this location is being shut down. Please find enclosed 
your final paycheck. If you need a letter of 
recommendation, please contact our parent company, 
Sedgeville Capital Products. We wish you all luck in your 
future endeavors. 


An out of business sign will be affixed to the door, and within a 
week, this will just be another abandoned factory again, and the 
workers will have only the vaguest memories of working here. 


Fading 


Needle... needle in my neck... Weird clear stuff pumping through 
it... Who are you people... What are you doing... Where is my son... 


Rubble all around me. Where am |? The mall? | think that's where 
we were, but | can't be sure. Corpses all around, my son among 
them, blood everywhere, smoke... choking me... | have to move, | 
have to find some way of getting out of here. If the building 
collapses, then nobody can help... 


What's that sound? Sounds like footsteps... 


Oh thank God, police! Police! You've got to help me, officers. It killed 
everyone, officers, everyone here. Tore through them like they 
weren't even there. There's blood all over me and | think my family is 
dead and you've got to help me please you've got to help me | don't 
know what to do what was that thing why was it killing everybody 
why didn't it kill... what are you doing with that... 


Oh God, oh God, James, no! What did that thing do to you, kid, 
what'd it do? Where's your arms, where's your legs, where's your 
head, oh God, what did it do with your head? | can see it there out of 
the corner of my eye, through the hole it left in the wall, just over the 
horizon, but | dont' want to look directly at it because everyone else 
looked at it and look what it did to them and my son, oh God, James, 
why'd it do this, what'd it do to you? | can't... |... what's happening? 
Why are they all dead? 


I've gotta get help, there has to be someone here. A doctor? 
Doctor's can't help people without heads | need someone who can 
get me out of here before that thing comes back. Police, police, | 
need the police, where can | find the police where can | find the police... 


Stay the hell away from my son! 


James, get behind me, I'm not letting this thing near you! Where's 


your Mom? We have to find her before this thing can get to her! 


Oh God, this thing is killing everyone, just tearing them apart with its 
bare hands. It ripped off that old man's arms like they weren't even 
there, and crushed that woman's head and... Don't look at it, James, 
look away, try and see if you can find Mom! It's killing everyone who 
looks at it. Oh God, what am | gonna do, | can't have my son in the 
middle of this, we're just out shopping at the mall and we were going 
to find something for his birthday and it's knocking out the roof 
supports and... 


Lucy! No, no, not Lucy, stay away from her, stay away from my wife 
you fucking thing, stay away, don't you touch her...! 


James, come back here! Stay away from it, James! Don't look atit, Ja... 
JAMES! 


I've always liked the music here in the mall. It's corny, but kinda 
entertaining. Friendly enough for the family without getting too 
annoying. Couple that with the clear layout and good prices, and 
you've got one hell of a good mall. 


Do you hear that, Lucy? Sounds like something screaming outside. 
Go on, James, just keep thinking about what you want for your 
birthday.. What is that sound, though? Lucy doesn't seem too 
concerned by it, but it's just so... odd. | can't stop thinking about it. 
There it is again. Sounds even closer now. But we're just here to do 
some shopping. Shouldn't let myself be concerned with stuff like 
that. What was it we needed next? Think it was some milk, eggs, 
apples... 


There's that sound again. Sounds awfully close. Everyone else 
seems a bit disturbed by it too. Wonder if there's a fight going on 
out... 


Oh Jesus, the wall's bursting open... 


On my knees, panting. They're dabbing my neck with a pad 
stemming the blood from the needle and they're talking to each 
other and oh Christ, it hurts. That should do it says one man and the 
other says that its time for the replacement thing | don't understand 
that word he's using but the other says no, he had a family and we 


need to get rid of that first and the other says it'll take weeks to track 
down any others who knew us and the first one just sighs and says 
a bunch of things and oh god what's happened why am | in the 
middle of a bunch of dead bodies, I'd just come to the mall alone to 
do some shopping, oh God, oh God... 


They're still arguing and one of them's objecting heavily to 
something but the other's already taking action and the first one's 
pulling him away, but the other's already doing it. There's another 
needle in my neck. | don't want another... 


| have a wife named Lucy. She's the most brilliant woman you've 
ever met. Long chestnut hair, beautiful green eyes, dazzling smile. 
Smart as hell, too. | couldn't be more lucky to have met her eleven 
years ago and to have started dating her ten years ago and to have 
married her on December 26th eight years ago. She's got the best 
damned laugh I've ever heard. She always wears green and 
absolutely hates purple. She's not too computer savvy but she can 
handle her way around them well enough. She works as a realtor in 
a company whose name | always forget. She loves the sight of 
morning dew and the smell of rain and the sound of birds in the 
trees. She is the absolute best woman in the world, the perfect 
partner for me, and I'd just die if | were to ever lose her. she is my wite Lucy... 


My son, James. He's six, almost seven years old. Bright little kid. 
Not genius level but pretty damned smart to me. He's got my chin, 
my eyes, my laugh. | don't know where he gets his smile and hair 
from, but whoever it was, | still need to thank them. He's so alive 
and full of energy, always running around and trying to find 
something to do. He occasionally gets in trouble for it, but for the 
most part, he's a well behaved kid. Not an angel, but still. He wants 
to be a paleontologist when he grows up, even if he can't pronounce 
the word properly yet. He's got a ton of friends, and they're all good 
kids too. | love my son more than anything in the world. My brilliant, 


brilliant, lovely, irreplaceable child James... 


On my knees. Everybody dead. Outside the mall. The mall's on fire. 
What... 


There's a man in a uniform talking to me. He says there was a 
terrorist attack. On the mall? Yes, he says. We're living in dangerous 


times, he says. | was far enough way from the blast to not get hit, 
but my head and neck got pretty messed up, he says. | check my 
neck, and sure enough it's bleeding. Feels more like needle marks, 
but | don't question it. He says that he's going to take me toa 
hospital, and get me patched up. | say fine. | need to get away from 
here. | can't be around these dead bodies. | need to talk to my 
parents, my friends, anyone who can help me make sense of this. 


| should just go... 


Faith 


For the 2014 Secret Santa Art Exchange, | was 
challenged by LordSpy to write a tale based on the 
output of a random plot generator. | used the 
creepypasta plot generator created by Syera, found 
here. This was what it gave me to work with. | left out 
the "haunted by a strange creature" just to keep this 
workable. 


One day in an abandoned farmhouse haunted by a 

strange creature, an old widower and a widower try to 

create the heart of a boy. 
Early winter of 2006 
Harry Arnsberg stood back and looked at the machinery before him. 
"| don't know, dad. This just feels weird." 
His father flipped up his welding mask and turned his blowtorch off. 
"Just have faith, son. Jenna and Maureen would have." 


The remark hit home and Fred Arnsberg immediately regretted 
making it. "| Know you miss her. | miss your mom too, you know that. 
But they'd have wanted us to do this. You know that, don't you?" 


Harry sighed and shrugged. "I guess, dad. It's just so out there, you 
know." 


"Any more out there than a woman getting pregnant without having 
sex and some guy multiplying fish and wine on a hill?" 


"| guess not," Harry mumbled, "I guess not, no. It's just...even if this 
is all true, why can't we..." 


His father interrupted him. "The past is the past, son, you know that. 
It's the future that we can influence." 


Harry sighed. "Yeah, | know. It just feels unfair." 
Fred flipped the welding mask down again. 
"Life isn't," he said and went back to work. 


His son was left pondering the events that had led to this. As he 
surveyed what he and his father had built, his mind went back to the 
darkest day of his life. He'd been working in the family's hardware 
store, soon to be his, when the call came. He'd actually felt it 
beforehand, right before Jenna had left the house with their son to 
go pick up his mom, but he hadn't known what that knot in his 
stomach was. If only he had. He dug his nails in the palms of his 
hands, hard. That was the only thing that kept him from sliding into a 
very dark place. One he knew one day he wouldn't come back from 
if he kept doing this to himself. 


"What do you need me to do, dad? Anything | can do specifically?" 


His father didn't answer, just pointed to some blueprints that had 
obviously been download from somewhere. The resolution was 
awful. 


Harry surveyed the papers. There were about six different ones his 
father had printed out. The designs made no sense whatsoever, but 
there was something there, Harry couldn't deny that. He felt it in his 
bones and it reminded him of how church had felt before. Grabbing 
one of the top blueprints, he sat down at the rickety table occupying 
the sparse amount of space not yet taken over by sheet metal, bolts, 
springs and gauges. "I'll go hunt for the components for this one 
then, dad?" 


His father didn't react and Harry didn't need him to. He'd resolved to 
have that most elusive of qualities: faith. 
One clear winter's day, 2004 


At least they hadn't felt anything. 


That's what he kept telling himself, but deep down he knew he'd 
never be sure. Did Jenna grab his little boy's hand before their lights 
were extinguished? Did mom say something that was meant for dad 
but would never reach him? Questions that would never be 
answered and that would haunt him for the rest of his life. 


But at least they hadn't felt anything. They couldn't have. The semi's 
driver couldn't help it either, Jenna had just lost control of the wheel 
due to ice on the road. She'd landed squarely in the opposite lane, 
right in the path of the biggest damn truck she'd ever seen, and 
would ever see. Dad and him had buried closed caskets. Two big 
ones and one far too small. In the weeks after, his father had turned 
into a recluse, shutting himself in his home. Harry had visited a few 
times, but he'd gotten little from the man he called his father. All he 
did was sit behind his computer and read, although sometimes he 
scribbled notes on a stained notepad. Harry had tried to read them, 
but his father hadn't allowed him to. Not then. 


It wasn't until he'd stopped trying to talk sense into his father, and 
had started listening to the man that his father had opened up to 
him. 


"God doesn't care, son." 


Those had been the first words out of his father's mouth since the 
funeral beyond "hi son" and "bye". Harry had been taken aback at 
first. Here was his father, a god-fearing man his whole life, 
denouncing his god. He'd protested, he'd reminded his father of their 
long family history in the town's deep-rooted Catholic traditions, but 
his father had only glanced up long enough from his screen to let 
Harry see the strange mixture of dead hopes and fervent prayers in 
his eyes. 


Over the following weeks and even months, they'd discussed what 
his father had found and Harry had felt himself disconnecting from 
his traditional upbringing and indeed his former faith. He came to 
realize that even if there was a god, he didn't care enough to let 
three good people live and spare a poor trucker a life-long trauma. 
And yes, others habitually reminded him that god worked in 
mysterious ways, and that Jenna, Maureen and Austin were with 
god, but he could no longer tell them he agreed with them, or that