After waiting a few moments to make absolutely sure he wasn't 
going to be smashed out of the sky by an angry white fist, he 
pushed his goggles back up and grabbed his notebook, looking back 
up at the windows and down at the paper in rapid succession as he 
furiously scribbled. 


There were a lot of things to learn right now. 


Hours later, Joey is staring not at clouds, but at a tree. 


He had only ever seen trees in pictures before. That was how he 
knew they were called “trees”. 


Joey was surrounded by them. There were so many that he literally 
could not count them. He had tried for about 45 minutes but had run 
out of numbers. So he gave up, and simply stared at one, trying to 
figure out what it was made of. 


Strangely, they appeared to be made out of wood, of all things. This 
astonished Joey. He did not know who had come out here and 
carved all these trees out of wood, or even where they had gotten all 
that wood, but he greatly admired their work ethic. It must have 
taken a very, very long time. 


Landing had been a strange experience. 


Joey had never landed an airplane, but he had seen all the trees 
from up in the air and wagered that it would have been a terrible 


idea to try to land on top of them. So he flew around for a little while 
until he had found a wide clearing, then touched down in the grass, 
while gritting his teeth and hoping that the fat tires he'd put on the 
landing gear would hold up against all the tangly grass. He'd 
bumped up against the wall of trees a little bit, but hammered out the 
dents and judged that he'd done a pretty good job, all things 
considered. 


The sun was going down. He had flown all day. And he had no idea 
where he was. 


The trees were nice, though. It was very kind of someone, whoever 
they were, to put all these carvings out here. He inspected them 
happily, appreciating the craftsmanship that had gone into them. He 
couldn't even see the seams where they had glued the branches on. 


After a while, he went into the plane and got out something to 
smoke. He decided on cigars, because this was a special occasion. 
It was time to celebrate. He lit two with a blowtorch, and sat down on 
the bomb bay door, looking out at the wide grassy clearing that now 
had some stripes on it where he had made contact with the ground. 


It was very pretty. The sun was touching the tops of the trees, and it 
leaked out purples and pinks and oranges where it made contact. 
Joey thought it was very silly of the sun to try to touch something 
that was obviously pretty sharp. 


He smoked, and looked, and tried not to think about how he was 
going to take off again. 


Joey thought about where he was. He didn't know if it had a name. It 
was possible, he guessed, that he was the first person to ever come 
here. He didn't see anyone else around. No people, no buildings. 
There were a couple birds. He had seen a little horse with spikes 
growing out of its head, which was really metal. He tried to talk to it, 
but it ran away, probably because an animal with spikes growing out 
of its head was too awesome to hang around and talk to a guy like 
Joey. Joey understood that. If Joey had spikes growing out of his 
head, he'd probably have a really different perspective on things. 


He decided to name this place Treeland. He figured that made the 


most sense. Trees seemed to be the main thing around here, and it 
felt good to honor whoever had worked so hard to make them all. He 
wondered where they were now. He'd like to shake their hand and 
thank them for their beautiful work. 


Before long, it got dark. Treeland started to get noisy. There was a 
loud sound all around, almost like an alarm. But it didn't sound afraid 
or panicked — it was a rhythmic, happy sound. He wondered if the 
tree guy had built speakers into the trees, and they were playing 
music. It wasn't very metal, but he liked it anyway. 


Joey decided that he liked this place very much, and when it got 
light again, he would get on his motorcycle and ride around some, 
and see how far the trees really went. 


There was a huge 
boom. 


The music stopped. Birds flew out of the trees in droves. Treeland 
fell quiet. 


Boom. 


Boom. 


It was a rhythm. Loud and hard enough to shake the ground. 


Joey took his cigars out of his mouth and waved the smoke away. 
He glared out at the clearing, toward the other wall of trees. The 
sound was coming from over there. 


He didn't like it. He didn't like that whatever it was was scaring 
Treeland into silence. It felt wrong. 


Joey put his smokes out and went into the hangar. He picked up one 
of his flamethrower axes from the rack, as long as he was tall, and 
checked its fuel canister. Checked its edge. He hefted its great 
weight over his shoulder and stepped out onto the grass, looking. 
Scanning. 


Boom. 
Boom. 
BOOM. 


Then there was the sound of cracking, splintering. He saw, on the 
far end of the wide open space, trees being knocked down. Pushed 
aside like matchsticks. Whatever it was wasn't moving quickly, but it 
was moving heavily. And powerfully. 


The tree wall bowed, and something huge entered the grassy space 
under the dark starry sky. 


There was enough light to see by. Joey's eyes worked well in the 
dark, he was sure that he would be able to see anything that was 
there, especially anything that big. And it was there, and it was big. 


But he still couldn't see it. 


It resisted his glare like water sliding off a waxed windshield. A 
shifting, twisting shape, only barely there. Hulking. Massive. A hint of 
a long head, a snout. The suggestion of four legs, the insinuation of 
a tail. But no details. Nothing that his eyes could firmly grasp. It was 
a beast made out of wind and whispers, that faded and danced just 
out of sight like the shadow of a candleflame. 


And it was ruining the trees. 


Joey took exception to this. Someone had worked very very hard on 
all these trees, and this thing was walking through them, shoving 
them over like they were garbage. It was disrespectful. 


The Mayor of Vulture Gulch opened some valves and lit the pilot 
light on his enormous flamethrower, then marched toward the 
colossal thing, frowning and determined to give it a piece of his 
mind. 


“Hey. Hey! | think you should be more careful! The trees are really 
delicate and you're breaking them! That's not very nice! | know 
you're really big, but can you maybe walk a little softer? This place is 
really pretty and | think if you-” 


There was a growl. 


Joey stopped walking. The earth beneath his boots rumbled with the 
force of the thing's voice. There were no words. Just intent. Its head, 
the size of a car, was aimed directly toward him. It split. There was a 
long glint. Something, or a lot of sharp somethings, shone in the 
starlight. 


It walked forward, only barely there, almost impossible to truly see. 
But its footfalls were real. Its growl was real. 


And Joey had a feeling that its teeth were real too. 


“| don't... You don't have to get angry. I'm not angry. Everything's 
okay.” 


The thing didn't stop. With its great size, it was closing the distance 
fast, even though its pace was gradual, calculating. Hungry. 


“Now hey. Don't... don't come any closer! We don't have to fight! 
Fighting is dumb! We could just talk it over!” 


It was very close now. It loomed over him. It was as high as a 
building. Joey could see the sky and the stars right through its 
gigantic body, and could see where its huge paws and long claws 
made craters and slashes where it stepped. 


The growl was as loud as a jet engine. 
Joey aimed the barrels of his weapon at it. It was so close. 


“We can be friends! | would really like to be friends! | don't want to 
have to use this! C'mon, just stop! I'm w-warning you! Don't come 
any closer!” 


It came closer. Joey could feel heat. See lights where its great eyes 
should have been. The colossal jaws opened wide, and inside Joey 


could see only darkness. There was a great roar. 
Joey pulled the trigger. 


The three barrels of the weapon exploded with righteous flame, 
casting a stream of eager and glorious liquid fire directly into the 
creature's mouth. Molten light bloomed in a furious corona all 
around, lighting up the dark forest. 


But it didn't stop. 


Joey leapt to one side as the great jaws came crashing down, taking 
a massive bite out of the earth where Joey had been standing an 
instant before. He rolled away, then found his balance and stood, 
frantically spraying the beast's flank with vicious flames before it 
could turn. 


The fire burned in great swathes upon the thing's unseen skin, but 
there was no reaction. It swiped a long shadowy leg with the speed 
of thunder, and it crashed into Joey like a hurricane made solid. 


He catapulted through the air for yards and yards, then slammed 
into the ground and slid through mud and wet grass, tumbling 
uselessly. He could feel enormous footfalls. It was coming after him. 


Joey plunged a hand into the mud to stop his slide, scrambled to his 
feet and flipped his grip on his weapon, holding it by the long 
barrels. 


The Mayor was not going down without a fight. 


He swung the brutally heavy axe like a baseball bat, and sunk it 

directly into the thing's nose as it crashed into him. Savage jaws 

clamped down on his entire torso, sending lines of white-hot pain 
driving from his collarbone to his hip. 


it hurt it hurt it hurts IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS 


The creature shook him in his jaws with the speed and cruelty that a 
cat shows a captured mouse, then flung him away into the air. Joey 
tumbled once more, and smashed into the soft earth, a small heap 
of skin and bones far away. 


Time slowed. 


Joey had not felt pain in a very long time. His vision blurred. He tried 
to move, but couldn't. He could feel his axe in his hand, but couldn't 
use it. He couldn't use anything. 


The wolf made of death pounded over to him. Joey felt a horrible, 
crushing agony as it stepped on his back and legs. 


Its jaws clamped over his head and shoulders, and with its leg 
pinning him to the ground, it 


pulled 


Joey could hear his spine creaking, being torn out of him. But it 
didn't give. He spiraled through the torture. He prayed that it would 
be over soon, that it would stop, that he would be torn and half and 
die so he wouldn't have to feel himself anymore. 


But he did not die, and he did not tear. 
The titanic animal lifted its paw, and threw him again. 


Joey was aware of a sensation of falling, but not much more than 
that. His life was darkness now, and his only memory was one of a 
distant pain. 


The falling stopped. He could feel cool dew on his cheek, and some 
blades of grass tickled him, asking him what was wrong. 


Joey knew what was wrong. 


He had decided to go out into the world. He made the choice. He 
flew away from where he belonged, and this was what he got. For 
his foolishness, for his presumption, for his willingness to abandon 
the people that cared for him most, he would be devoured. 
Consumed by a creature outside of perception, that felt no flame 
and no blade. This is how his quest would end. Trampled in the 
mud, as pointless as it, and his entire life, had ever been. 


And he would not see his friends ever again. He would not be able 
to make any more friends. He wouldn't get to bring the stories back, 


to make the people he loved happy. He wouldn't be able to help 
them anymore. 


Joey was what was wrong. And because of that, his family would be 
left in the dark, forever. 


They would live on, unaware of anything. They would work, for 
years, until eventually they realized he would not be returning. They 
would wonder whatever happened to their Mayor, the nice guy that 
helped them read the words. Maybe they would cry, maybe they 
would mourn for a time. But they would forget him. They would 
never live up to their potential. 


They would never live in the sunlight, and become who they were 
truly meant to be. 


No. 


Heavy footsteps, coming closer. Hungry death came on legs of 
shadow. 


No. 


Joey stirred. He writhed as a fresh wave of hateful pain coursed 
through his body. 


NO. 


A hot wind blew over him, from the lungs of a cruel force. 


NO! 


Something happened deep inside the small, stupid Mayor. 
Something became real. A realization. A wave of something 
undeniable. The pain became meaningless. His breaking body 
became a triviality. His spilled blood unfurled upon the ground as a 
banner, something declarative. His mind snapped back into place. 
He felt the love he had for his friends as a rushing river of molten 
steel, coursing through his dead flesh. He remembered himself. And 
he remembered what he was supposed to do, his sacred purpose, 
the reason he had been placed upon this strange and beautiful 


Sample 887-5227: Four pages, English. A formal proposal to the 
United States government to introduce an eighth day to the week. 
This day would be employed in spiritual contemplation and the 
worship of pagan divinities the document calls "under-representea”. 


Sample 887-5836: Three pages covered with hexadecimal 
numbers, then torn into narrow strips. The assembled document 
was deciphered as machine code for a hardware driver called 
"LGCL_XPNDR". 


Sample 887-6334: Three pages. A word-by-word replication of the 
primary report on SCP-657, with the exception he is called 
"Bernara". 


Sample 887-3877: Eight pages, German. A folkloric tale of a boy 
born without a heart, who ventures into the woods and acquires one 
from a friendly old woman. He grows up and marries a beautiful 
lady, who dies giving birth to a demon that devours both. 


Sample 887-4710: 96 pages, Akkadian. An extended research 
article on the properties of naturally occurring "earth lines", and how 
one might use them for transportation of cargo and projectiles. 
Several devices intended to employ these properties, built out of 
wood and lodestone, are outlined. 


Sample 887-5005: Five pages, English. 272 different misspellings of 
the word "anthropomorphization". 


Sample 887-9912: Six pages, Latin. A star chart clearly modeled 
after medieval European charts, but without any recognizable 
celestial body dispositions. Fourteen constellations are labeled: 
Pegasus, Sextans (sextant), Centaurus, Chimaera, Cygnus (swan), 
Lancea (lance), Trilobus (trilobite), Aranea (spider), Nonavulpecula 
(nine-tailed fox), Caudavorae ("tail-eater", apparently a self- 
devouring serpent), : ; and Leolacertus (lion lizard) 


Sample 887-6776: 2353 pages, English. The phrase "Does the 
black moon howl?" repeated over 27 thousand times. 


Sample 887-8312: 14 pages plus 22 sections of other pages. 637 
names, 382 of which have been matched to professional 


world. 


| WILL BRING THEM THE 
LIGHT! 


He smashed the ground and rose to his feet, liquid fire flowing from 
each and every puncture the beast had dealt him, the blood within 
his body burning with inner fury. His fists became wreathed in 
whirling, vengeful incandescence, the flames rising higher and 
higher until his arms were pillars of heat. His eyes, sunken and 
dumb, sparked and ignited into twin embers that looked with blind 
hate at the thing that bore down upon him. His body became a 
seething pyre, throwing wild shadows throughout the glade and 
casting everything around in a warm glow. The light from inside 
flowed outward as an inferno. 


Joey believed in himself. 
And Joey was mad. 


As the shadowed behemoth fell upon him, he wound back and threw 
a punch into its nose, bellowing his unshackled rage. 


The detonation shattered the air, incinerating everything in a terrible 
nova of heat and light. A small sun that lived only for an instant and 
consumed and destroyed everything it touched. The ground 

buckled. The sky shrieked. And Joey Steelwings made himself real. 


And then it was gone.