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Content note: This article contains gore, body horror and implied references to alcohol and depression. If you notice anything tag-worthy that's not in here, please mention it in a comment.


Item #: SCP-5891
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5891 has been purchased by the Foundation. It is to remain empty, under the cover story of structural damage. The windows have been covered with newspaper from the inside. Trespassers must be amnesticised.
Description: SCP-5891 is a two-storey terraced house, numbered 28 on █████████ Street in Wrexham, Wales. It had been abandoned for an unknown period of time before its discovery.
SCP-5891 is the focal point of a recursive effect, wherein numerous copies of the interior can be accessed via holes knocked haphazardly through the walls.1 These holes appear in different places depending on the iteration of SCP-5891; for instance, the access point from the main instance to the second is in the bathroom. Furthermore, they can only be entered in one direction; any person entering the other way will find themselves in the same iteration. However, going back through one will return a person to the previous iteration.
Exit from a secondary instance of SCP-5891 is impossible; the front door cannot be opened, and neither the walls nor windows can be breached. Nothing that requires access outside the house (for example, water or electronics) functions. Early instances of SCP-5891 are identical; later iterations show some discrepancies.2
SCP-5891 was being rented by ████ ███████ at time of discovery. The anomaly was discovered when Rhiannon Edwards, a paramedic stationed at Wrexham Maelor Hospital, complained about ███████'s continued absence. He had no known anomalous contacts, and a spotless record at the hospital save for an incident fifteen months prior to his disappearance. Details of said incident on the hospital computer network had been corrupted, and staff were unable to provide any useful information. No trace of ███████ has yet been found.
Addendum 2: Layout of SCP-5891:

Ground floor: hall, living room (two rooms knocked through), kitchen
First floor: landing, master bedroom, spare bedroom, bathroom

Addendum 4: First human exploration of SCP-5891

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Personnel participating: D-94771 (field), Dr. McDonald (base)
<BEGIN LOG>
D-94771: Alright, can you hear me?
McDonald: Receiving you loud and clear.
D-94771: Sound. So, I just go in the house?
McDonald: That's right. Just have a look around and report anything anomalous back to me.
D-94771: Will do.
D-94771 enters SCP-5891 and begins investigation of the ground floor. Other than the dust naturally occurring from a lack of maintenance, nothing anomalous is immediately obvious.
D-94771 enters the living room, which is cluttered and disordered. Leftovers on the coffee table are stale, but not mouldy. Next to them is a book, turned over to hold it open. D-94771 picks it up and begins flipping through it.
D-94771: Can I just thank you now for sending me to the spooky haunted house in the daytime? Tones down the horror a bit, at least.
McDonald: Well, there wouldn't be much point in sending someone to explore if they can't properly see what they're exploring.
D-94771: Tell that to the dickhead who had me traipsing round a castle at one in the morning waiting to get grabbed by a mirror monster.
D-94771 makes to put the book down.
McDonald: Actually, hold on there a minute, Olivia.
D-94771: [laughs] Haven't fucked up already, have I?
McDonald: Do you remember what page that book was held open at?
D-94771: Uh, no. Sorry, was that important?
McDonald: Probably not. Okay, er, let's try this; close the book and reopen it to whatever page feels natural.
D-94771: What, like, emotionally?
McDonald: No, physically. If the book's been held open on that page for a while, it'll be more likely to reopen there. Read me the first line, too.
D-94771: Sure, makes sense, I guess. What's the story, Balamory? [sound of flipping pages] That's… one hundred and nine. It starts mid-sentence.
McDonald: That's fine, just from the top of the page.
D-94771: [clears throat] "intended as a tool to aid towards self-actualisation. He saw this as the aim for all humans, and believed that the hierarchy-"
McDonald: Okay, that's enough. Could you move through to the kitchen now, please?
D-94771 discards the book and moves through to the kitchen, which is also disordered. Several disposable plates can be seen in the bin, and unwashed dishes are soaking in discoloured water in the sink.
D-94771: Jesus, what a mess. Not gonna make me go fishing through that, are you?
McDonald: We've imaged it beforehand, so not right now.
D-94771: Thank fuck for that. Some mercy. When you say "imaged…"
McDonald: We've sent drones in here before to investigate. And to answer your next question, drones are clumsier than humans, and more cumbersome. Besides, sometimes anomalies react differently to living things than machines.
D-94771 makes a noise of affirmation, before returning to the hall and climbing the stairs. She enters the master bedroom, which is in a similar state to the rest of SCP-5891. A large hole is present in the wall, through which the bathroom can be seen. The bed is made; a shape is visible underneath the duvet. D-94771 stops immediately upon seeing it.
D-94771: [whispering] Is, uh- is that-
McDonald: Please remove the covers now.
D-94771: [whispering] Are you fucking joking? No fucking way.
McDonald: For what it's worth, we don't think there's anything dangerous under there.
D-94771: [whispering] Bullshit! You want someone to get eaten, do it your fucking self, I'm not-
McDonald: Look, I understand you're scared, Olivia, and I wish I could tell you that you're a hundred percent safe, but I can't. That being said, I'm telling you, we- I am as confident as I can be that that's not going to hurt you. I promise, this is not a death sentence.
[brief pause]
D-94771: Okay.
McDonald: But I still need you to look.
D-94771: [hesitates] Fuck this, and fuck you.
She trudges across the room and grasps the edge of the covers in her fingertips. She takes a deep breath, and quickly pulls the covers off the bed. Nothing is present underneath. An indentation in the mattress, as though someone has recently been there, is observable, roughly corresponding to the shape in the covered bed.
D-94771: Huh.
McDonald: For the record, if this was a death sentence, it wouldn't be me overseeing it. I don't really have the stomach for sending people into the mincer.
D-94771: Oh, yeah, I forgot how hard this must all be on you.
McDonald: [laughs] Fair enough. Could you touch the space where the shape was, please?
D-94771: [obliges] Huh, it's… weird. Like the air's… harder? Dunno, feels like there's resistance though. Like putting your hands in water while wearing gloves, or something. [she places her hand on the indentation] Bed's cold, though.
McDonald: Thank you. Can we move to the bathroom, now?
D-94771: Can I go through- not through the hole, right.
D-94771 exits the bedroom via the door and enters the bathroom.
McDonald: Okay, before you enter, I'd like you to mark a cross on the wall opposite the hole.
D-94771 obliges, then enters the bedroom of the second iteration of SCP-5891. It is identical to that of the first iteration, before her entry. She looks back through the hole, observing the cross she marked in the first iteration.
D-94771 walks to the bed and stands over it. The shape is visible.
D-94771: Suppose you'll be wanting the same again.
McDonald: If you would.
D-94771 sighs, and quickly removes the covers.
D-94771: Same as before. [she touches the indentation] Weird feeling and all.
McDonald: Alright. Go to the bathroom again, please? Through the doors.
D-94771 obliges. The cross is not visible on the bathroom wall.
D-94771: Trippy.
McDonald: If you could look through the rest of the house, now? Report any differences you notice.
D-94771: Aye, captain.
D-94771 searches the second iteration of SCP-5891. No observable variations between it and the first are noted. She stops in the living room.
McDonald: The book's still on the coffee table? What page is it on?
D-94771 recovers it.
D-94771: One-oh-nine. Is that right?
McDonald: Should be. Does the page start "intended as a tool to aid towards self-actualisation?"
D-94771: Yeah. That good or bad?
McDonald: Neither, as far as I know. Can you leave the house? Are the windows and doors useable?
D-94771 climbs onto the couch and attempts to open the window, without success. Front door yields same results.
D-94771: I could try and smash the window, if you want. Because I want to.
McDonald: You can try, but don't hurt yourself doing it.
D-94771 laughs, and unsuccessfully attempts to breach SCP-5891 using a chair.
D-94771: Fuck, okay, maybe that wasn't my best move.
McDonald: Anything unusual outside the window? What do you see?
D-94771: I see… oh my God.
McDonald: Olivia?
D-94771: There's a crowd of people. None of them have a face… but they're all staring at me!
McDonald: What? Are they attacking? How can-
D-94771: [laughs] Nah, just fucking with you, it's just the street. Nothing weird.
McDonald: Alright. You can consider this an official reprimand.
D-94771: You're no fun. [pause] Actually, there is something.
McDonald: Don't try my patience.
D-94771: No, seriously, your van full of goons isn't there. Can't tell if there's any other differences, but it's definitely still parked outside, right?
McDonald: Right. Alright, noted, thank you. The next hole should be in the kitchen cupboard.
D-94771 enters the kitchen, marks a cross on the wall opposite to the cupboard, before opening it and crawling through the hole within. She enters the third iteration of SCP-5891. No difference is observable between it and the second.
D-94771: So, uh, you expecting something to happen here? 'Cause I never thought I'd get bored exploring a mysterious haunted house, but I guess that's the world we live in.
McDonald: Ideally, we'll keep going until it stops recurring. If it doesn't stop, we'll call you back when the number gets to a certain point. You've been given food for a reason.
D-94771: [muttering] "We'll keep going," is it? [normal tone] Fine, whatever. Where's the next hole again?
McDonald: Cupboard under the stairs. This is the last recursion that's been mapped out, though, so you'll be guiding us from now on.
D-94771: Look forward to it.
D-94771 looks out of the kitchen window, and pauses.
D-94771: So, uh, it's probably worth mentioning that there's a bird in the garden that's not moving. Like, in mid-air. That's, that's not normal, right?
McDonald: I suppose that's why there's no van outside.
D-94771 agrees. She enters the fourth recursion of SCP-5891, and begins exploring the ground floor. No difference is observable.
D-94771: Welcome to Luigi's Mansion, all! To your left, you'll see an unopenable door, one of a kind, we guarantee! To your - well, ahead now, prepare yourselves for the majesty of a pigsty of a living room! Yes, postcards will be available from the giftshop as we leave.
McDonald: Are you always this… chirpy?
D-94771 returns to the hall, and goes to climb the stairs.
D-94771: Would you rather I was curled up crying in the corner? No, don't answer that, you probably would, wouldn't -
The stairs give out underneath D-94771. She cries out as she falls.
McDonald: What's happening? Olivia? Are you alright?
D-94771: [groans] Fucking hell.
McDonald: Where are you? Are you hurt?
D-94771: I, uh- [she opens a door next to her back under the stairs. Guess we found that next hole. Jesus, that hurt. Think I'm good.
McDonald: If you're alright, get to looking around. We do have a team on standby if we need to get you out.
D-94771: You do? Didn't think you cared. I thought I was the expendable meat? Would you really send the SAS in after me if something happened?
McDonald: Honestly? Depends what happened.
D-94771: …guess I can't argue with that. You wouldn't let the world end or whatever just to save me, would you? There's nothing here, by the way. That book's on the same page every time.
McDonald: Interesting. Alright, upstairs, then. Careful around the hole.
D-94771: Yeah, fool me once. [she begins her ascent] You're proper interested in that book, aren't you?
McDonald: Could be important. Maybe not in of itself, but-
D-94771: No, hang on, I know this; you're assuming the first house is the original, and the rest are copies. The book's on the same page, so it was left there before whatever mystic shite happened here happened here.
McDonald: Something like that.
D-94771: You sure you've got things the right way round?
McDonald: What?
D-94771: Maybe the original's at the centre, and everything else is a copy.
D-94771 enters the bedroom, and goes to the bed.
McDonald: It's possible, I suppose. Any theories on why?
D-94771: [shrugs] You're the doctor. [she removes the bed covers] What the fuck!
In the bed is a mass of indistinguishable, amorphous fatty tissue. It is pale, roughly human-sized, and fills exactly the indentation seen in prior iterations of the bed. The tissue quivers faintly in place. Liquid fat drips off the edges, soaking into the mattress.
D-94771: Oh, no, no, no no no. You let me the fuck out of here, and you let me out now.
McDonald: [aside] Look, surely we can - Okay, thanks. [to D-94771] Alright, you can come back. Just - wait!
D-94771 had quickly gone to leave the room; she hesitates at Dr. McDonald's instruction.
McDonald: Can you get a sample of the tissue? Like, a scraping?
D-94771: You want me to touch that thing? Fuck you!
McDonald: [aside] Alright, come on, does she have to? [pause] This is - oh, for - [to D-94771] Look, they won't let you back unless you do it.
D-94771: But… what if it wakes up?
McDonald: Do you think it's sentient? Um, aware of you?
D-94771: I don't wanna know.
McDonald: If you could just catch some of the drippings in the container -
D-94771: What're you gonna do if I don't, shoot me?
McDonald: They might.
D-94771 paces up and down the room, giving the bed a wide berth. After several seconds she groans, tugging at her hair.
D-94771: Fine. Fine, I'm doing it. Fucking hell. [she leans over the mass, and retches] Oh, God, it stinks. [she tentatively scrapes a sample of liquid fat into a vial, and quickly retreats. Mass remains unresponsive.]
McDonald: Can you describe it?
D-94771: Uh, sweaty. Bad, like sour milk. Stale beer, bit like off meat, too - fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick. Can I come back now, please?
McDonald: Yes, please do.
<END LOG>
Closing statement: D-94771 returned to SCP-5891 without incident. DNA testing of the sample she recovered indicated human, but was too heavily decayed for any further analysis.

Addendum 7: Second human exploration of SCP-5891

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Personnel participating: D-94771 (field), Dr. McDonald (base)
<BEGIN LOG>
McDonald: We're on.
D-94771: Dr. McDonald! Nice to hear your voice again. Well, it would be under other circumstances.
McDonald: Hello, Olivia. If we could get going?
D-94771: Alright.
D-94771 enters SCP-5891, which appears the same as in the last exploration log
McDonald: Do you remember where the entrances are?
D-94771: That what we're calling them now? Yeah, think I can manage.
D-94771 traverses the first three iterations without incident, and explores the fourth.
McDonald: Careful on the stairs, here -
D-94771: Yeah, I remember. Still bruised.
She avoids the hole, and investigates the first floor. It is identical to the three prior iterations. She returns to the stairs, and enters the next iteration.
D-94771: Is, uh, Mr. Blobby still here?
McDonald: We have to assume so. But we also have no reason to think it's hostile.
D-94771: Mm.
After investigating the ground floor at a slow pace, she makes her way upstairs, taking the bathroom, then the spare room.
D-94771: Next hole's in the floor, here. [she gestures] Guess I'll need to stand on a chair or something to come back.
McDonald: Understood. The bedroom, now, if you -
D-94771: Yes, alright, I - [sighs] Give me a minute.
After some hesitation, she enters the bedroom. The mass is still present, and does not seem to have moved.
D-94771: Yup, still here. Still gross. Still smells like Anfield on a Saturday. I don't have to touch it again, do I?
McDonald: No. You can move on, now.
D-94771: That's a shame, I was gonna have a tea party with it.
D-94771 enters the next iteration of SCP-5891, and goes first to the bedroom, removing the bed covers. An identical mass is present, and she retreats quickly.
D-94771: Oh, great. What actually is that, by the way? Did you figure it out?
McDonald: We, uh, don't know. Harmless, as far as we know, but we're not sure exactly what it is.
D-94771: You know, you could have just lied to me, really wouldn't have minded.
D-94771 explores several further iterations of SCP-5891 without much communication, and the unidentified mass is still present in the recursions. She stops to rest periodically in the living room. Eventually, she enters the thirty-second iteration at the living room and pauses.
D-94771: Guess that book mattered after all.
McDonald: Hmm?
D-94771: [gestures towards coffee table] Can you see it on your end? I can't.
D-94771 was asked to wait in the room, while Dr. McDonald and Junior Researcher Samuels undertook a more thorough examination of footage already acquired. Upon closer inspection, since the tenth iteration, an increasing number of items in the house were not present in further instances. No connection is apparent between said objects. This information is relayed to D-94771, and she is instructed to keep closer notice on future iterations.
D-94771 continues onward, providing details of further missing objects but with little communication otherwise.
McDonald: You're unusually quiet. Everything alright?
D-94771: Thought you would've been pleased.
McDonald: I'm just making sure this isn't getting to you. If it is, it could be an anomalous -
D-94771: Be fair, Doctor. What am I supposed to say? "Oh, yes, Doc, it's still a shithole, oh yes, Doc, there's the great blob of fucked-upitude, oh yes, Doc, more of the same," it's just the fucking same thing, over and over and over.
Arriving at the bedroom, D-94771 removes the quilt, carelessly throwing it to the floor.
D-94771: Although… am I imagining things, or is that smaller than before?
Junior Researcher Samuels reviews previous footage, with inconclusive results.
D-94771: Alright, let's try this…
She returns to the kitchen, searching all the drawers until she comes across a tape measure. She then returns to the bedroom and measures the length and width of the mass.
D-94771: I'll check it again in a few gos.
Eight iterations later, D-94771 measures the mass again.
D-94771: Sure enough. Only a couple of inches, but it's smaller.
D-94771 proceeds through a further twenty-four iterations. Across these instances, the house becomes noticeably less cluttered, and the mass visibly smaller than the indentation in the bed around it.
At the next iteration, she removes the quilt from the mass.
D-94771: Huh. That's… different.
The fat coating the mass is thinning; patches of scabs and scar tissue underneath it become evident. Some of the scabs are peeling away, and blood congeals through the cracks exposed in the tissue.
McDonald: Could you get a sample of that blood, please?
D-94771 makes a noise of affirmation and obliges.
McDonald: That was relatively painless.
D-94771: Well, it's just a big lump of goo. Not worth getting worked up over.
McDonald: You've changed your tune.
D-94771: Yeah, well, you see it a million times, it's hard to get particularly worked up over it. When can I come back?
McDonald: The stuff in the house is thinning out now. Maybe by the time it's all gone, you'll have reached the last iteration. If not, once that happens, we'll discuss our options.
D-94771: Fine.
D-94771 traverses a further thirty one iterations of SCP-5891. During this time, the house is almost bare of items, barring furniture and the mass in the bed, which has reduced to nearly half the size. Very little of the fat remains; it is entirely scabbed over.
In the next iteration, the house is empty of items. In her exploration, D-94771 is unable to locate another hole.
D-94771: Finally. Think we're done. I want a long nap after this.
McDonald: See what I can do. I suppose there's just the bedroom to go, then.
She enters the bedroom. The bed is made. No shape is visible underneath.
D-94771: Huh. Here goes nothing.
D-94771 removes the covers. The bed is empty.
D-94771: Nothing. At all. [sighs] What a fucking waste.
<END LOG>
Closing statement: D-94771 returned without incident. Blood sample was too corrupted for conclusive analysis.

Addendum 8: Interview log

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Interviewed: Rhiannon Edwards
Interviewer: Researcher Farnsworth
Foreword: Attempt to garner further information regarding ████ ███████, and to determine if Edwards had any prior knowledge of SCP-5891. Interview was conducted under the guise of a police investigation.
<BEGIN LOG>
Farnsworth: And we're recording. Ms. Edwards, are you comfortable?
Edwards: Fine, thank you.
Farnsworth: Good. Let's start, then; you were the one to report Mr. ███████'s disappearance, isn't that right? What was the nature of your relationship?
Edwards: Uh, yes, that's right. I think "relationship" is a strong way to put it, we worked together. Both manned the same ambulance.
Farnsworth: Do you know where he is?
Edwards: No. I'd have told you if I did. I'd have reported him if I did.
Farnsworth: What can you tell me about him?
Edwards: Uh… [glances at camera] Sorry, I'm not quite sure…
Farnsworth: Just say what you're thinking. Don't feel like you need to censor yourself or anything, whatever you can give us is helpful.
Edwards: …look, I don't know what's happened to him, no-one'll tell me if he's dead, or, in prison, or whatever. I know what they say about speaking ill of the dead, but… he was a wanker.
Farnsworth: So, you didn't get on, then.
Edwards: No-one got on with him. He'd been there for a year or two before I started working with him, and I don't even know if he'd ever spoken to any of them. He was just…
Farnsworth: Go on?
Edwards: Sometimes you meet someone, and there's nothing wrong with them, exactly. They're not rude, or dodgy, or angry, or anything.
Farnsworth: I'm not sure I follow.
Edwards: Well, that was it. He just wasn't anything. Lights were on, no-one at home. You'd speak to him, and he'd talk back, and he seemed nice, and all, but it just never felt like there was anyone really there. Freaked me the fuck out - sorry, am I allowed to say that?
Farnsworth: You can say whatever you want. Alright, when was the last time you saw him?
Edwards: Fortnight before I reported him. We work night shifts, we barely spoke to each other that night. Alan and Walt had to fill in for him before I got sick of it and complained.
Farnsworth: I see. I assume you didn't speak because of your feelings towards one another?
Edwards: We didn't speak because of the shift before that. We got a call to Windsor Street, some animals had stabbed a kid there. Disgrace, I'm telling you. Just dumped him on the pavement, he was only seventeen, poor lad. Anyway, we got him on board, ████ bagged him and I - I held it - he was -
Farnsworth: If you're upset, we can take-
Edwards: I'm not upset. [takes deep breath] I held it in place, I looked up, and ████ - he'd gone up front to ask Jen how far out we were. And I yelled, I screamed at him to get his arse into gear and do his fucking job, and he - he just -
[brief pause. Edwards breathes quietly.]
Edwards: He sat down, started squeezing. He looked at me and said sorry.
Farnsworth: I understand. He made a mistake -
Edwards: No, I'm sorry, we all make mistakes. It's- it's bloody stressful, and you go on automatic sometimes, and you miss things, you can't help it. You've just got to move on.
Edwards: But he was just a kid. He could have died - he nearly did die. And when ████ said sorry, when he looked at me, he just looked blank. No expression. And he sounded so flat when he - like he'd used the last of the milk at the coffee machine or something. You'd think he of all people would get het up over it, but… [sighs] I… it got me wondering, why did he do it?
Farnsworth: Do what?
Edwards: The job. Why would you do something like that if you didn't care?
<END LOG>
Closing statement: After further questioning, Ms. Edwards was deemed to have no knowledge of SCP-5891, or ████ ███████'s whereabouts. She was released shortly afterwards. Mr. ███████ has still not been located.

Footnotes
1. No rubble is present in the house.
2. See Addendum 4.

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