It is too late in the year to attempt another expedition in search of 
the Big-Foot; | am told that the winter in these parts is long and cold, 
and that it will be April before another expedition to the foot-hills is 
advisable. In any event, | have little money left with which to hire 
anyone. | have sent a letter south to San Francisco, to be tele- 
graphed to the Royal Society in London, containing an account of 
my findings and a request for financing to launch a proper expedition 
into this wilderness, whether to capture a Big-Foot or to establish an 
embassy with the strange nation of the fox king Alaric; barring 
disaster, | expect a reply by Christmas. 


| do not hold much hope that they will assent to such a proposition; 
after all, | am the only witness to these fantastical events, and the 
only evidence, the declaration of knighthood granted me by the fox, 
will not be in London for several years or more. Perhaps | shall leave 
this territory entirely when the next ship arrives in May, and set out 


for other parts unknown. | heard before | left London that the White 
Raja, in Borneo, has acquired a strange machine that fell from the 
sky; who knows what other wonders might lurk in the Javanese 
jungles, waiting to be shown the light of day by one such as myself? 


Footnotes 

1. Now known as Mt. Rainier 
2. Now known as Mt. Everest 
3. 2,240 pounds (1016 kg) 


From The Mists Of Time 


There is an ancient legend. 


Before man came to master fire and cultivate his food, he lived in 
perpetual fear. There existed creatures of such frightful appearance 
and terrible power that even the mightiest of warriors fell before 
them. When the creatures did not attack, there were the artifacts of 
doom, some enchanted by wicked sorcerers who lived in isolation, 
some appearing for no reason except to torment man. And in times 
when neither were to be found, the incomprehensible forces 
assaulted the refuges of man, with no purpose but that of 
destruction. 


It is said in some circles that the mastery of fire is what allowed man 
to drive off the horrors of the world. The idea of a weak, powerless 
group gaining a bright, burning weapon against the night-things is 
certainly a comforting one, and is indeed believed by most of the 
world to be man's first step towards independence. 


But it was not fire that led man to his mastery of Earth. It took 
another event for fire to even be a possibility. Given the millennia 
that separate us from that day, nobody knows the exact details of 
the event. But the legend goes something like this. 


One night, a group of nomads squatted in a deep, dark cave, 
awaiting a creature. They had been on the run for a full cycling of 
the moon, and had gradually been picked down from a group of 
twenty to a group of four. The beast showed no signs of tiring, and 
could easily tear a person in half given the chance. A single glance 
into its eyes was enough to paralyze any man, regardless of his 
constitution. The creature had wandered the world for many, many 
years, terrorizing all who stumbled across it. 


In a world of horrors, it was probably the least fearsome creature 
one could encounter. 


In the deepest part of the night, the four heard the creature's 
dragging footsteps scrape across the entrance of the cave. They 
tried to remain silent, hoping to buy a few more precious seconds 
with which to make their peace. The knowledge of impending doom 
had been with them for some time now, but only here, in their last 
moments of life, did that knowledge become a solid reality. Huddling 
together, the four survivors awaited the creature, and the bloodshed 
that would follow. 


As it rounded the corner, the group could barely make out the 
features of the thing that stalked them. It was twice the height of any 
normal man, and half the width. The eyes seemed far, far too large 
for the head, which jutted out from the rest of the skull by several 
hands. Its limbs ended not in hands and feet, but rather in large 
pads of slime, which still managed to grip with the strength of lion 
jaws. Turning its head, the creature saw the group, and bolted 
towards them. 


But for the four survivors, the end never came. 


Right as the creature came within striking distance, it was tugged 
back by four strands of knotted up reeds, one attached to each of 
the limbs. Losing its balance, the creature fell upon the ground, 
knocking its head against the stone floor of the cavern. Before it 
could regain its senses, three lithe, strong men beset upon it, two 
taking an arm and a leg each, and the third grabbing the face with 
one hand. Raising up the other, he placed two crudely carved rocks 
over the creature's eyes. The group watched in fascination as, 
instead of flinging them aside with a toss of its head, the creature 
writhed in pain, unable to get rid of the stones, which seemed to 
cling to its eyes. 


Tying the creature's limbs behind its back, the men hefted it up, and 
chucked the monstrosity into a corner of the cave. Then, they led the 
four bewildered survivors out into the night, where six more men 
stood watch over the entrance. Two of them rolled a large boulder 
over to the entrance, and sealed it tightly shut. From inside, they 
could still hear the echoes of the creature's screams. 


As the first three men led the original survivors away, the other six 
took up posts around the cavern. Legend has it that for many years 


afterwards, they would patrol the area, making sure the creature 
hadn't escaped from it's confines. At every winter solstice, they 
would descend into the cavernous prison, and carefully replace the 
bindings and stones before sealing it once more. 


As for the men who captured the creature, they went on to spread 
their knowledge across the globe. Tales from all corners of the Earth 
say they had decided to turn against the creatures which stalked 
them in the night, and make the world safe for man. That such a 
gargantuan effort was both planned and successfully implemented 
by a mere three individuals is truly fantastical, even for a legend. 


Gradually, the group drifted out of common knowledge. As fewer 
and fewer things plagued the world, less and less people believed 
that such things had even existed, and by the time of man's 
cultivation of fire, the men who worked to make such things possible 
had passed onto the edges of normal life, a mere shadow, 
protecting man's continued existence. 


The organization they formed out of those days of darkness and 
despair has gone by many names over the centuries, and the 
number of men who did work for it have been lost to history. Many of 
the things they held captive to make the world safe are still held to 
this day, while others have disappeared off the face of the Earth, 
either destroyed or escaped, awaiting rediscovery, and hopefully 
recapture. Regardless of these changes, though, the organization 
has, from its very conception, operated under one, unchanging 
creed: They secure, they contain, and they protect. 


Experiments and observations are ongoing. 


« SCP-853 | SCP-854 | SCP-855 » 


From Unknown Admirer to Unknown Admiree 


| no longer care who may be reading this. 
Whoever it is. Even if it's the kindest of men. 


| love you. Let us be together. We can be happy together, and 
neither of us will be lonely for we will always have each other. 


| love you, so, hurry and let us meet, so we can begin our 
relationship. Because | love you, I'll tell you a secret. My most 
beloved secret but not as much as my love for you 
wholhavenotmetbutwillsoon. 


| have seen the secret to the world's sorrow, and the world's 
misfortune. Loneliness. Loneliness. We are lonely, we fall to ruin, 
and we remain living and dying in misery. 


Even when we are close, we are not close enough 
We must be closer to make loneliness disappear 
thedreadedlonelinesstodisappear 


And | have found the way for us to be closer, it told me how we can 
become closer 


So close that we shall never separate 
So close that neither of us shall ever be lonely again 


| love you, let's be close together, and so neither of us shall ever be 
lonely 


andneitherofusshallbesadagain 


Simply by writing this | feel myself by your side, my face against 


your neck and skin against skin. My breath is gentle and sweet on 
your shoulder and your heartbeat underneath the hand that is mine 
on your chest. Your eyes closed in whatever dream you wander in, 
while | watch your slightly open mouth inhale and exhale, and | will 
match my breaths with yours and slow my heartbeat to your 
heartbeat. Sometimes you will whisper and | will whisper back, so 
that maybe you will hear me and my words will always be that | love 
you. When you awake you will look down and see me curled to fit 
exactly to your body like two matching puzzle pieces. Just you and 
me. Your lips shall find mine and then | will kiss you and you will kiss 
me back. | will whisper to you what | have whispered to you all night 
and that will be that | love you. Then you will smile back at me and 
whisper back that you love me too. 


butidontwantyouandmeiwantus 


That's okay if you don't understand right now. 


You will soon. 
iwillmakeyou 


When my body collapses in your arms, you may cry and mourn, just 
as | once did. You don't need to cry. 


For | will be one with you 

There will no longer be you or me 
There will only be us 

For we will be closest of all 


then when we feel lonely we will feel it together 

when we feel anger we will act with unity 

our heart will beat with one heartbeat 

our minds are together embracing in its folds like our spirits embrace 
to a single soul 

we will be perfect and yet imperfectable for we can still feel that 
loneliness 


But there is a solution. Just as our souls blend, the horrors that are 
isolation and loneliness become apparent. It is our bones and flesh; 
it always has been. We have been born isolated from the world by 
our corporeal vessel. There's a way out now, for all of us to find the 
solace we have been looking for forever. Come, once we have been 


united, we shall seek another to be with us. Then we will urge our 
new self to find another again, forever as long as there is one who 
remains apart. 


wecouldbe altogether a aetherforeverSVerancalways 
perfection asone@#S2/€ acourselvesasnothingelse 
no lonelinesSandsorrow 


only the joyous unity 


Wouldn't that be a sight, our beloved? 


Come, let us kiss. 


From Vagrants, to Gentlemen 


Marshall slid the sleeve of his suit back, the ornate silver watch on 
his wrist glinting in the dull yellow glow of artificial light. 


Two minutes, eighteen seconds. 


He was on the second floor of the building, a hotel from the early 
twenties. The decadence of that era remained apparent in the dusty 
chandeliers, swinging slowly overhead as a train roared past 
outside. This room had been a ballroom at one time, and the dusty 
wood floor still bore the scuff marks of the thousands of boots that 
had come to this room before his own. 


One minute, fifty six seconds. 


He broke from his standing position by the door, lengthening his 
strides to make up for time lost contemplating the decor. The man in 
the middle of the room smiled at his customer, glad that somebody 
appreciated his collection, and he waved Marshall towards himself. 


"Good afternoon, Mr. Marshall. Right this way, please." 


One minute, forty three seconds. Twenty three more seconds until 
he was supposed to leave the room. 


"One moment please, sir." Marshall indicated a beautiful eighteenth 
century chair backed against a wall, drawing his words out. "How did 
you manage to get ahold of that? | have been looking for one to 
complete my dining room." 


"A most interesting piece, Mr. Marshall, you have quite the eye for 
quality. Smashed to pieces during the French Revolution and 
restored by a carpenter several years later..." 


One minute, twenty six seconds. 


Marshall walked several paces closer to the man, still detailing the 


restoration of his glorious chair, and they walked together into the 
next room. 


"... Rather pricey, but worth it | think. Now, about those items you 
wanted to purchase." The man threw open a heavy wooden door, 
and the amazement on Marshalls face was only partly feigned. 


"My God man, is that an original?" Marshall indicated a tapestry in 
the corner, and was just as quickly drawn away by a painting sitting 
atop a nightstand older than the building he stood in. "Good Lord, is 
that-" 


The smile on the man's face was broad as Marshall stared around 
the room in awe. 


"Indeed it is. Penance. That one is not for sale, sadly. It holds a 
special place in my heart. | acquired it in Germany after..." 


Marshall pulled himself together and checked his watch as 
inconspicuously as possible, hoping the man was too engaged by 
his collection to notice. He was not meant to lose track of time. 


Forty three seconds. 


"But my dear Mr. Marshall, what | have really called you here for 
today is a rather special item. A remarkable antique, but it also has 
some... Other features." 


Marshall couldn't imagine something more interesting than a 
supposedly destroyed piece of 1600's art, but he followed the man 
through the corridor. After several seconds, they stood before a 
safe. 


Twenty seconds. 


"Now there are some things on this Earth that defy understanding, 
Mr. Marshall. This is one of these items. | must ask you to stand 
back, and be very careful with this particular piece..." The man bent 
down to tap the keypad, and Marshall strained to see over his 
shoulder. 1-8- 


Time. 


Marshall cursed under his breath as a train roared past, the floor 
shuddering as a ballroom wall was blown inwards, debris spraying 
across the floor. A cry echoed through the thick wooden door, 
somebody apparently having been hit by the blast. 


Marshall seized the man from behind, wrapping one arm around his 
chest as he pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket. He whispered 
a quick apology to the struggling man as he one-handedly shook out 
a rag and slapped it over the face of his captive, feeling him fall limp 
after only a few seconds. Marshall lowered him gently to the floor, 
the sound of gunfire beginning to echo from the ballroom. He 
approached the safe, praying that the combination was what he 
thought it was. He reached for the keypad, tapping in the last few 
digits, 


-1-6 
And held in a yell as nothing happened. 
"Damn," He whispered quietly and emphatically. "What could be..." 


The heavy door crashed against the wall with a crack, and Marshall 
whirled around. 


"Taking your time in here, aren't you now?" 
"Shut it Carter. You've got the cart?" 
"Of course, of course." 


Carter wheeled a metal platform into the room, and Marshall 
resisted wincing as it rolled over several priceless pieces of art. The 
sound of gunfire was constant outside the door now, the clatter of an 
assault rifle drowning out the popping of pistols. 


"Could you watch where you're wheeling that, you vandal?" 


"Ah can it you pansy, we're on the clock. Now, what's worth selling 
in here?" 


"Well he's got the Penance in here, that's an old piece from-" 


"Right, right. Just point and tell me what to grab." 


"Right, er, that one." Marshall indicated the mural, and Carter 
heaved it aboard the cart, the sound of gunfire dying down outside. 


Marshall and Carter hauled a few more ancient paintings and 
statuettes onto the cart, and were panting from the strain when a 
voice floated in from just outside the door. 


"Gentlemen, time for us to be going." 


A dark figure walked into the room and stood against the wall behind 
the door, assault rifle slung across his chest. Marshall took a 
moment to appreciate his choice of hire, then returned his attention 
to the safe. 


"Hey, one more thing. You guys think we can make it with this?"