Dr. Edward Alameida's Reports
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SCP Drafts

Item #: SCP-@

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-@ is to be kept in a standard secure storage locker, located in the Secure Storage Wing of Site-12. Members of the Canis genus1 are not to be allowed access to the Secure Storage Wing under any circumstances. Any members of Canis genus found within the Secure Storage Wing are to be terminated immediately.

Access to the storage locker is restricted to Level-3 personnel and above. Any unauthorized access to the storage locker and any unauthorized instances of SCP-@-1 are subject to immediate quarantine. Interviews of SCP-@-1, upon request by the entity, are to be conducted in a standard anomalous entity containment cell. As of 1/19/2010 interviews are no longer to be conducted.2

Description: SCP-@ is a mask sculpted in the likeness of an Egyptian wolf (canis anthus lupaster). SCP-@ is composed of a material visually similar to carnelian-plated gold, but closer to tungsten in terms of hardness and stress resistance, making it significantly more durable. Written across the surface of the mask is the phrase “To give strength in Duat3“ in Egyptian hieroglyphs. There are no eye holes in the mask, instead being replaced by a set of lapis lazuli.

SCP-@ modifies the behavior of all members of the Canis genus within a 15-meter radius. Both domesticated and undomesticated members will attempt to bring the SCP-@ instance to an area frequented by humans. This behavior will continue at distances exceeding the 15-meter radius for 21 minutes. Once brought to an optimal area, members of the Canis genus will cease the behaviors. SCP-@ does not modify the behavior of other fauna and/or humans.

When worn by an individual, SCP-@ will transform them into SCP-@-1. SCP-@-1 is a bipedal canid, approximately 2.4 meters in height. The entity is entirely composed of the gold-like material that SCP-@ consists of. SCP-@-1 does not require nourishment and does not produce waste. SCP-@-1 modifies the behavior of undomesticated members of the Canis genus, in a similar 15-meter radius to SCP-@. Undomesticated members exhibit submissive behavior towards SCP-@-1. After the individual removes the mask, they do not retain any memories of what they experienced.

SCP-@-1 contains the consciousness of a currently unnamed entity, believed to be an ancient Egyptian deity. The entity is docile, and has remained cooperative since its initial containment in 5/11/2009. SCP-@-1 has refused any further communication since the incident on 1/18/2010. The origins of the entity can be traced to ancient Egyptian literature, most commonly in association with the god Wepawet4. SCP-@-1 is most commonly referred to as “The Golden Wolf”, and SCP-@ as “A Golden Mask”. It is currently unknown if “A Golden Mask” refers to there being more than one instance of SCP-@.

SCP-@ was recovered from the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History in Washington D.C., USA on 5/11/2009, after POI-610725 put on the mask, transforming into SCP-@-1. Foundation agents embedded in the MPD recovered the entity, transporting it to Site-12 for containment.

Tale Drafts

“Everybody’s youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.”
~F. Scott Fitzgerald

The attic was dark and damp. Switching on the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling did little to fix the former. I went downstairs and came back with a floor lamp; It helped light things up a bit. The attic was filled with old cardboard boxes and slightly newer plastic totes. I wandered around the heaps of cardboard and plastic, trying to find a good place to start. There was a small stack of boxes in the corner. They would be last. I found a tote labeled “X-mas Decorations” and put it on the floor by itself. It would be the start of the ‘Sell’ pile — we could always buy new Christmas lights.

I made two more piles next to the ‘Sell’ one: ‘Keep’ and ‘Ask Dad’. I started sorting through it all. An old blue onesie with Alexander written on it went to the ‘Sell’ pile. It was a little too small for me to wear it anymore. A box of extension cords went to the ‘Keep’ pile. We might need them at the new house. A locked leather briefcase went to the ‘Ask Dad’ pile. It was probably full of old paperwork.

I stayed in the attic for hours, sorting through memories good and bad, until there were only a few boxes left. A stack of boxes in the corner. “Lizzy’s Stuff”. Mom’s stuff. Elizabeth is my mother; she was my mother. She crashed her car into a tree while driving home from work. I wasn’t allowed to see her body, not that I wanted to. I didn’t want the last thing I saw of my mom to be a corpse.

I didn’t want to go anywhere near the boxes.

I also didn’t want to make Dad do it.

I picked up a box from the top of the stack. I barely stopped the tears. I unfolded the flaps and looked inside. It was full of old school supplies, from when Mom was in college. There were several textbooks about Law, a large spiraled notebook, and a container of pencils and pens. I didn’t open the textbooks or notebook. The box went in the ‘Keep’ pile.

The next few boxes were full of clothes from the 80s and 90s. There was a box of collectible mugs from every state. A box full of calendars. Another filled with postcards from all over the world. There was even an old Walkman in a box full of cassette tapes. I put every box in the ‘Keep’ pile. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that I would get rid of them.

Within the hour a single box was left. I sat down next to it and pulled it towards me. “Elizabeth’s Things” was written on the outside. I ripped the tape off and opened the box. Inside was a collection of seven leather-bound books. They looked like they could be journals. There was no writing on the outside of any of them, and only one had writing in it. The first page was filled with cursive writing. I started reading.

March 8th
Robby told me to fill these journals with my thoughts. Something about helping him keep track of things. He’s full of horse shit. I know he just wants to keep me busy so I won’t touch his things before the summoning. I’ll humor him anyway. I don’t feel like arguing anymore.

March 9th
In four days we’ll summon the entity. That’s probably important enough to write down. I wish I knew what its name is. Writing “the entity” feels weird. Does it even have a name? It probably has a name. Everything has a name, right? I don’t think it really matters in the end. It’ll only be here for an hour.

March 12th
Tomorrow’s the day. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. This is the first time we’ve tried summoning anything. I don’t even know if it’ll work or not. I’ll go to the Library later and see if I can find any books on summons. It’d be easier just to ask Robby to look at his books, but he’s pretty busy being angry. Mel might have some books on summons, I should go ask her.

Was this written by Mom? The handwriting didn’t look like hers, but the books were in her box. A lot of the things she had written down didn’t make sense. What are ‘the entity’ and ‘summons’? Who are Robby and Mel? My curiosity overshadowed my sorrow. I put the journals back in the box and closed it. I then picked up the box and headed downstairs.

My first instinct was to ask Dad about the journals, but he wouldn’t be home until late. He had an important meeting at work, something about a rebranding. I walked into my room and put the box on my bed. If I didn’t talk to someone about the journals, I would surely go insane from all the thoughts bouncing around inside my head. I pulled out my phone and texted Jordan. She would listen to my thoughts.

Are you busy?

Not really works pretty slow right now

Huh. Wait, don't you get off at 6?

I’m working overtime tonight I get off around 9ish

Oh.

Whyd you wanna know?

I found some old books in the attic, and I think they belonged to my mom.

Damn. Do you wanna talk about it?

Kinda, I’d rather talk about it in person.

That's okay I guess

I just don’t feel like spamming your phone with my thoughts.

Oh. I’m off all day tomorrow if you still want to talk

That would be great, Thanks Jordan!

No p

Jordan is one-half of my closest friends- I’d trust her with anything. She was one of the only people to not ignore me when I moved into town during freshman year. Most of the “popular” kids wrote me off the second I got here, but not Jordan. I’ve asked her why about a thousand times, but she would always respond with “torn jeans, weed, and camo gets boring after a while”. She had also introduced me to Chris, the other half of my closest friends. He’s an amazing guy to hang out with, always coming up with new things to do. He does wear a camo jacket all the time though.

I put my phone back in my pocket and sat down next to the box. I opened it and pulled out the first journal again. There wasn’t anything else to do except continue reading, so I did.

March 14th
I don’t even know where to begin about yesterday. The summoning was a failure. It started out fine. The entity actually showed up, but it didn’t go straight into the entrapping sphere like it was supposed to. Instead it went straight to Robby and murdered him. The portal imploded without him holding it open and knocked everyone out. When I woke up the entity was gone, and Robby’s body was laying against the far wall. We had to bury him this morning.

There was more, but I didn’t read it. The entries gave me more questions than answers, but I didn’t care. I had to know more.

March 19th
It feels likes someone’s smashing me in the head with a hammer. I hope getting knocked unconscious didn’t knock something loose in my head. I need to go get some more Ibuprofen.

March 21st
Something’s wrong. I don’t remember any of yesterday. According to Mel, I wandered around aimlessly for most of the day. Then I collapsed and she had to drag me back to my room. I’m going to the Library today to see if I can get some help.

Did this “ritual” make Mom go insane? Why would she go to a Library for help? I couldn’t make any sense out of it without the whole picture. I flipped the page. There was a single entry left. The handwriting was nearly illegible.

March 22nd
I went to see Ms. Rurisdottir yesterday. And she told me what’s happening to me. The entity didn’t leave after we were all knocked unconscious. It found its way inside my head. I have to stay with her until she can get it out.

I closed the book and put it back in the box. This was too much information to go over at once. But I had to figure out what happened. Reading this journal was like having Mom back. I didn’t want that feeling to end with the book.

I put the box on my desk and walked over to the window. The energy towers in Grand Rapids were glowing brightly amidst the skyline. I stood there for a while staring at the lights. As I was about to turn away from the window, a piercing pain rocketed through my skull. I held my head in my hands and waited for it to pass. The pain slowly fell away, leaving a dull throbbing in its place. I grabbed the bottle of Aspirin from next to my bed and took two.

The next morning I went downstairs and found a note on the fridge. It was from Dad.

Hey bud, I’m sorry I couldn’t help with the attic. I had to leave early this morning to finish up some things at work, but I’ll be home just in time to make dinner. Then I’ll take the rest of the week off so we can finish packing together.
~Dad

I really wanted to ask him about the journals before he left for work, but I guess I could wait until he got home.

I ate a bagel for breakfast, got dressed, and messaged Chris, asking if he wanted to come over. He said yes. Jordan sent me a message- she wanted me to know she would be here soon. I was about to message her back when the doorbell rang. I went downstairs and answered the door.

It was Jordan. She was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and her old letterman. She was also holding a pizza box.

“Hey Xander, I brought some food for thought.” She handed me the box as she walked in.
“Thanks. Wait, where did you get a pizza at-” I checked the time on my phone. “-seven in the morning?”
“That new pizza place on main street is open twenty four seven.”
I set the pizza box down on the coffee table. “It is? That’s cool, I didn’t know a pizza place could run twenty four seven.”
“I know right?” She sat down in the recliner.
“Let me go grab the books real quick.”

I ascended the stairs, grabbed the box off my desk, and went back downstairs.

“Did you tell Chris,” Jordan asked as I put the box down on the coffee table.
“Yep, he said he’d be right over.”
“Nice.”
“I bet he would’ve come for the pizza alone.”
“Duh, he won’t pass up free pizza.” Jordan grabbed a slice of the aforementioned pizza.
“So-” I sat down on the couch and pulled the first journal out of the box. “-let’s start with this.”

I told Jordan everything I had read last night, and she listened intently without speaking. When I was finished she sat munching on her slice of pizza for a while. Then she leaned forward and let out a divine swear.

“I know right?” I put the journal on the table.
“This sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”
“It could be for all I know.”
“And it just stops after March twenty-second?” Jordan picked up the journal off the table and flicked through it.
“Yep, this is the only book with writing in it.”
“Weird. Any idea what year this is from?” She set the journal back on the table.
“Not a clue.”
“So all you know is that your mom wrote this?”
“Well…”
Jordan put her head in her hands. “What do you know?”
“I know that it was in a box labeled ‘Lizzy’s Stuff’ and that it was with Mom’s stuff.”
“So?” Her head stayed in her hands.
“So it’s probably safe to say that she wrote in the journal.”
Jordan took her head out of her hands and sighed. “So where do we go from-”

The doorbell stopped Jordan’s question in its tracks.

“That should be Chris,” I told Jordan as I walked over to the door. I opened it to find Chris and usual cheerful smile. He was wearing a camo hunting jacket, a grey t-shirt, and jeans.

“Hey, how’s it been?”
“Good, I guess. Want some pizza?” I scooted to the side so he could get in.
“You don’t even have to ask.”
“It’s on the table in the living room.” I closed the door behind him as he walked towards the living room.
“Hey Jordan.” He grabbed a slice of pizza and sat down on the couch.
“Hey.” She gave him a little wave.
“Is this the box of mysteries?”
“Yep, it contains lots of questions,” Jordan said in a disappointed tone.
“Questions that we will hopefully answer,” I told Chris as I sat down next to him.

I filled Chris in on everything I knew about the journals, just as I had done with Jordan. He also sat intently listening without speaking, like Jordan. Unlike Jordan, he spoke as soon as I was finished talking.

“That’s all you know?” He seemed incredulous.
“Yes, that’s all I know.”
“Now that that’s finished.” Jordan leaned forward and looked at me. “Where do we go from here?”
I thought for a moment. “We should try and find either a year or a location for this house.”
“Not be a Debbie Downer, but isn’t the journal all we have to go off? I mean, where else would we look?” Chris was even more incredulous.
“Um.” I thought for another moment and remembered the box of calendars that was with Mom’s stuff. “We could check for a date in Mom’s old calendars.”
“We could?” Jordan had caught some of that incredulous tone from Chris.
“Yeah, Mom always kept important dates marked on her calendar.”
“That sounds like a long shot.” I wanted to throw a journal at him.
“It is, but it’s all we have.”

I walked back upstairs and up into the attic. Turning on the light, I looked around for the box. It was still in front of the “Keep” pile that I had made last night. I grabbed it and headed back downstairs. Setting the box of calendars next to the box of books, I grabbed two calendars from inside. I then handed one to Chris and tossed the other to Jordan.

“What are we looking for?” Jordan flipped open the calendar.
“Anything related to the group she was with, the house she was in, or the year this all happened in.”
“Sounds easy enough.” Chris opened the calendar as well.
“It should be.”

I grabbed a calendar from inside the box; it was from 5 years ago in 2003. I flipped through all the months and didn’t find anything. The next calendar was from 1992: the year I was born. Again, I didn’t find anything. I also didn’t find anything in the calendars for 1984, 1989, or 2000. Chris, on the other hand, did find something.

“I found something.” Chris put the calendar down on the table. It was for 1981.
“What’d you find?” I was filled with excitement.
“Right here.” He pointed to February 7th. “Meet Robby at Smite’s house.“
“So we have a date. Now we just need a location.”
“We have a location.” Jordan tossed her calendar into the box and pulled out her phone.
“We do?” It was my turn to be incredulous.
“Yeah.” She typed something into her phone and turned so Chris and I could see. It was a picture of a flyer. It read: ‘Tours of A Real Haunted House! Come tour the famous Smite Murder Mansion!’
“How’d you find this?” Chris was amazed.
“Vince has been begging Dad for a week to go see it. His friend found the flyer at the diner.” She swiped to a picture of a large derelict house. “It’s up north, near a town called Pinery.”
“Now we have a date and a location.” I looked at the picture again. “How far away is it?”
“It’s a four-hour drive, at least.” Jordan turned off her phone and put it in her pocket. “Did you want to go check it out?”
“Of course.”
“You actually want to go into a haunted mansion?” Chris seemed a little scared.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“And let you get possessed or something? Of course, I’m coming.” He put on a brave face.
“If we leave now we can get there by three.” Jordan stood up and stretched.
“Let’s get going then.”

I stood up and walked toward the door, turning to wait for Jordan and Chris. Jordan walked up beside me, and Chris followed, pizza box in hand. We walked out the door and toward Jordan's old pickup. We piled in and Jordan started it up, backing down my driveway out onto the street. She shifted it into gear and we took off. Toward the unknown. Toward mystery. Toward the end of our extraordinarily mundane lives.

Notes

Be original while writing, that is the real challenge.
Deletions are only hurdles in the quest towards SCPdom.
The important things in life aren't easy.
And the easy things in life are rarely important.

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