Item #: SCP-6271
Object Class: Safe Keter
Special Containment Procedures: (Updated as of 05/12/2018) A perimeter has been established surrounding the municipality of Middle Creek, Colorado. Civilians are prohibited from entering the city limits. If pressed for explanations, Foundation personnel are to use Cover Story #318 (“Unsafe Conditions Due To Natural Disaster”).
Description: SCP-6271 refers to the collection of 56 windmills located in and around Middle Creek, Colorado. SCP-6271 instances are always in motion, even when there is no wind. See Addendum SCP-6271-3
Of the 56 SCP-6271 instances, 33 are fan mills, 16 are tower mills, and 4 are post mills. The fan mills are decorated with a plaque showing an emblem of a glider. On the doors to the tower mills hang signs reading “HARBINGER AVERSION MEASURE #” followed by a five digit number. Beneath this, something is written in an unidentified script. The 4 post mills (designated SCP-6271-A, -B, -C, and -D) are each built into small houses, which appeared to have been last occupied 80 years, 35 years, 14 years and 3 months before the investigation, respectively. SCP-6271-A, -B and -C were completely empty save for furniture. See Addendum 6271-1 for a summary of the contents of SCP-6271-D.
In addition to this physical anomaly, SCP-6271 instances also have a connection to the subconsciouses of the population of Middle Creek. Dream analysis performed on former denizens of Middle Creek1 show that their dreams share the following qualities:

The dreamer is attempting an absurd task, such as building an igloo in the summer, or attempting to fly by pulling on your own feet. This task is never completed.
Everything in the dream is either circular in shape, or is made of circular objects (such as baseballs, gears, film reels or snare drums)
SCP-6271 instances are present, slowly turning, very far away.

Recounting these dreams tend to calm the subject, despite their content.
Addendum SCP-6271-1: Investigation of SCP-6271-D yielded significantly more material than other SCP-6271 instances. Below is a list of recovered items:

An unidentified, possibly anomalous piece of machinery, largely consisting of tubes.
A newspaper from 1945
A framed black-and-white picture of four men standing in front of SCP-6271-A, each with their arms around their shoulders
A shattered set of plates, accompanied by bent silverware
A small pocketbook written in the same unidentified script as found on the signs outside of the tower mills. The only readable content is the words “Stale air poisons a mind”.
The decayed corpse of a humanoid with a distinct skeletal structure from homo sapiens sapiens, estimated to be 3 months old.

Addendum SCP-6271-2: Since it was unclear if the Middle Creek populace was aware of the anomalous nature of SCP-6271 instances, interviews were held with numerous community members to gauge their relationships with SCP-6271. While citizens were friendly initially, when asked about SCP-6271 instances, all subjects noted that they were too busy to learn about the windmills. When pressed about their business, the citizens' calm demeanor would be quickly overcome by a combative explanation, defending their many duties and roles they held within the town. This strange behavior lead the team's primary interviewer to contact the Middle Creek town council. The following is a transcript of the interview that resulted:

Interviewer: Agent Regis
Interviewee: John Simon
—-
Regis: Alright Mr. Simon, let's start with just your name and your occupation, and then we'll dive into the questions.
Simon: Sixty-Eight, retired.
Regis: But you are chairman of the town council, no?
Simon: That's not a job. That's my duty.
Regis: So you don't get paid for it?
Simon: I understand my home is not very impressive, but I do not need the money. Around here, something to do is payment all on its own.
Regis: Funny, when my gramps retired he said he was looking forward to having days of nothing.
Simon: Then he must've grown up somewhere else. Around here, I make a point to keep everyone busy. We have festivals in the summer, harvests in the fall, banquets in the winter and carnivals in the spring. Doesn't matter when, there's always something to work towards.
Regis: That is… quite the schedule. I suppose people here enjoy big events?
Simon: Popular opinion isn't as important, it's tradition.
Regis: Is there any kind of punishment for not lending a hand?
Simon: Of course not.
Regis: No one is ever shunned by their family? Or maybe straight up banished from the town?
Simon: I don't think that even deserves an answer.
Regis: I'm sorry if I'm coming off a little blunt, it's just that, everyone else we've talked to almost seems afraid to be bored.
Simon: Well, we do have a saying around here: an idle mind attracts nasty thoughts like still water attracts mosquitoes.
Regis: Ah, of course, of course. This town wide skittishness is just a byproduct of a proverb, pounded into the citizens from when they were little. The term “nasty thoughts” really sends the shivers down my spine.
Simon: Fine, if you'll cut the sarcasm… I'll give you a straighter answer.
Regis: I'm all ears.
Simon: Mr. Regis, have you ever wanted to forget something, but it keeps clawing its way back? Just demanding you think about it?
Regis: … yes.
Simon: Then you would know, the best way to keep a memory like that down, is to keep your mind on something more important.
Regis: Wait, is there something the whole town is trying to forget?
Simon's stoic expression turns to a sly smile.
Simon: Damned if I know.

Addendum SCP-6271-3: On 05/12/2018, Middle Creek was caught in an intense windstorm. This caused heavy damage to the decaying and decomposing wooden structures of 14 SCP-6271 instances (including SCP-6271-A and SCP-6271-C). The severity of the destruction ranged from broken rotor blades, to complete structural collapses.
Following this windstorm, all SCP-6271 instances ceased motion. A fog came to rest over the town that, as of this writing, has not yet lifted. After four days of no communication from Middle Creek, MTF Epsilon-6 (“Village Idiots”) were sent to investigate.

Exploration Team:

Captain Juan Hidalgo — Team lead
Sergeant Ann Lupo — Rural navigation expert
Sergeant Kyle Harrison — Communications expert

[BEGIN FEED]
MTF Epsilon-6 are deployed approximately 1.5km from the center of Middle Creek. Harrison turns on his camera. The fog is present, and obscures vision past 50m.
Lupo: Remind me, is there anything specific we're looking for?
Hidalgo: First priority is to find the people. Second is origin of the fog. It was in the briefing.
Lupo: Just wanted a quick reminder. I was paying more attention to what lockpicks I needed to bring.
Harrison: Hopefully we won't need those…
Lupo: Maybe they're all barred up inside. You don't know.
Hidalgo: Alright, enough chit chat. Let's get rolling.
The team moves into Middle Creek. The first structure that can be seen through the fog is a ranch-style house. There are no lights on inside. Hidalgo knocks.
Hidalgo: Hello? Anyone inside?
There is no response.
Hidalgo: Ann?
Lupo: I got it.
Lupo unlocks the door with her lockpick set. The fog appears to linger inside the house as well.
Harrison: This place smells wretched.
Lupo: I've smelled worse.
Harrison: I mean, so have I. Doesn't make this place smell any better.
Hidalgo opens the refrigerator.
Hidalgo: It probably doesn't help that all their food's gone bad.
Harrison: It doesn't but this is also more than just spoiled milk.
Lupo: Hey, guys, over here.
Lupo motions to a door she's just unlocked. Hidalgo and Harrison draw their weapons and join Lupo. Hidalgo counts down from three on his hand. On zero, Lupo opens the door. Harrison and Hidalgo storm inside, firearms ready to discharge.
Harrison: Ah, so that's where the smell's coming from.
The room appears to be a married couple's bedroom, featuring a king sized bed, a door to a closet, a nightstand and a wooden dresser. A man and a woman in their mid-forties lay in the bed. Above each of their heads is a glowing circle that is cracked in two places. Harrison approaches the bed to get a better view while holding his nose. Upon closer inspection, it is apparent that the couple's eyes are wide open, and that they are breathing. However, they do not respond to Harrison waving his hand in front of their faces.
Hidalgo: Sleep paralysis?
Harrison: Maybe just regular paralysis.
Lupo: And what about the halos?
Harrison: They might not be halos.
Lupo: How else would you describe them?
Harrison: I just meant they might not be biblical.
Hidalgo: We should keep moving. We found people, but I don't want to see what happens if they wake up.
Harrison turns back to Hidalgo and Lupo. In the far left hand side of the video feed, the doors to the closet open further. Numerous dim lights flicker inside. Epsilon-6 does not acknowledge this.
Harrison: Right, right.

MTF Epsilon-6 leaves the house and continues their exploration. Condensation build up on the camera lens is wiped away by Harrison every few minutes. All of the buildings they pass are houses without any lights on. Approximately 500m away from the center of town, Lupo stops the group. The visibility has decreased to 25m.
Lupo: Hey, is it just me, or is this fog getting thicker?
Hidalgo wipes some condensate off of his jacket and feels its texture between his fingertips.
Hidalgo: The droplets are black and sticky. Like tar.
Harrison: I bet this is going to do wonders for my equipment.
Hidalgo: It doesn't smell too strongly. We're probably fine to continue.
Lupo: Aye aye.
The team resumes movement. Around 300m out, they stop coming across residences, and begin seeing stores. The road also turns from dirt to cobblestone. There are cars parked along the side of the road, but all of them are empty.
At 200m to the town center, the camera microphone picks up a distant chanting. However, the words cannot be distinguished. The members of Epsilon-6 signal to each other, acknowledging the recurring noises and indicating they should continue silently.
At 75m, the words of the chant can be understood.
Voices: We failed.
Pause.
Voices: It thirsts.
Pause.
Voices: We failed.
At 50m, MTF Epsilon-6 stops movement. At the far edge of its vision, the camera can see a black silhouette. It quickly disappears into the fog.
Voices: It persists.
MTF Epsilon-6 resumes movement, but now at a quicker pace, chasing after the silhouette. At 25m, a large crowd of silhouettes come into view. They all stand around a massive hole in the center of town, holding shovels. The bottom of the hole cannot be seen from the camera's angle. The silhouettes strike the ground simultaneously.
Voices: We failed.
They shovel dirt into the hole.
Voices: It comes.
They strike the ground again.
Voices: We failed.
Dirt is dropped into the hole again.
Voices: It hungers.
As MTF Epsilon-6 moves close to the entities, more details become visible. Their bodies are made of the same tar-like substance as the fog, however their faces have enough features to be matched to the inhabitants of Middle Creek. The team stops about 7m away from the hole.
Voices: We failed.
Harrison motions to the rest of the team that he is going to approach the lip of the hole to get a look inside. The rest of the team spreads out the town square to cover for Harrison.
Voices: It approaches.
Harrison approaches the entities. There is very little room between them to maneuver. He brushes against one whose face resembles a young woman, leaving some of the black substance on Harrison's pant leg. The entities do not react.
Voices: We failed.
When the entities turn to shovel more dirt, Harrison leans over the lip of the hole. The hole has no bottom, and appears to be occupied by small twinkling lights similar in appearance to stars in the night sky.
Harrison: Holy shit.
Voices: It wishes to be whole.
An entity behind Harrison strikes him in the back of the head with its shovel. His body goes limp, tumbling into the hole. He falls for 30 seconds.
[END FEED]

Footnotes
1. Middle Creek has an isolationist culture, so current denizens of the town seldom leave the municipality.

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