Is this The End or is it?

Some say that I'm a reality bending entity others say that I'm a scp that came and traveled though timelines What ever you call me is it. I will tell my story hell I'm ̶̷̢͔͚̗̫̱͕͇͕͚̲͇̦̳̘ͥͦ͊ͭ̈́̓ͥͩ̈́ͥ̈͂́â̑͊ͯ̿ͧͭ͞͏̯̜̩̩̬̳̪͎͚̤̭̝̙͖̯͓m̝̭̮̻̳͍̽ͤ̒ͨͧͣͥͬ̎̌̒̀͞ͅ ̷̸̢͉͙̤̩ͤ̿̊̑ͤ̉̓̅ͪ͒̐̀͢ͅş̨̍ͣ̂ͫ̓҉̝͉͎̩͚̲̻͎̠͕̞͖͎͉͇̖o̴͉̮̖̘͈̗̝̙͉͋̌͐̿̏̄͗̅̊̊̿ͪ̒́̊̂ͥ͑ͦ͝ ̶̶̜̤̰͔̯̞͎̞͉̖̦̦̟͎͎̫̬̦ͬ̇̽͐̃̽͗̎ͬ͗͟͡c̶̑ͫ̿ͣ̈̋ͫ͛̐̚͝҉̘͔̗̬̦͚̼͙̻̥̀ͅa̛̜̮͎͍̮̯̙̱͙̗͔ͭ̂̓͋̔͂̾̓͛́͞ļ̯͍̮̘̲̫̭͖̠̥͎ͣ̃ͨͩ̆ͤ̒̊̑ͤ̾̉̋̾̈́ͮ̽̚͝l̷̈́͑̆̏̾̏̎̍̇̌̉ͭͩ͛̒̚͘҉̟̬͔͔̯̘͚͚͇̥̺͙͔́ę͙̲͎̙͉͉̖͕ͥ̾ͩ̂̍̓͂̽̎̄ͬ̇͊̀̚d̂ͧ̎͌̅͒̀͊̇̍͝͝҉̣͎̗͖̣̫̯̣͖͔̗̭ͅ "̵ͦͪͮ̐̆̒̇͌̿̄̿ͭ̓̎̀̚҉͏̺̩̝̬̯̭͉̭̼͕̟̻͎͉ͅM̷͇̥͍̥͕ͯ̓̀͆ͤ̓̽͂̊̊̏͟r̵̵̯̜̣̤͎͍̯̳̯̼̱͉̘̪͙̰̫͚ͧ̅͐ͧ͗ͨ̓ͫ̔̏̚̚̚͠ D̡̻̱̝͚̱̲̤̾ͣͥ̆ͪ̔̌͟͝͠͝a̔ͣ̌͊ͩ̑ͩ̏̾ͭͣ͂͒͊͏̡̙̮̟̤̬̞̖̣̝̲͓͘ͅr̴̢̳̼͙̫͋ͭ̊̉̕͟k̷͈͕̝̟̫̪̠̭͔̹̗̦ͦ̍ͤ͒"̴̛͇̥̞̯̪͎̰̩̙̇̉͒ͣͣ̿̀ ̧͓̹̳̤͚̜͕͙ͫ́̈́ͦ͒ͮ̀͘͜͞M̴͚̥̤̞̪̒́̄̌̍̿̒͛͗ͤͨ̾ͮ̈ͤ̎ͫ̚y̶̏͑̐͂̾͗̇̀̚͏͎̺̙̣͎͝ ̛̥̝̯͙̩͔͇̗͍͖̫͈̫̲̝̯ͩ̆͌ͥ̉̄̌̈́͌ͤ̔ͭ̋̒͗͂ͣ̀̔͟ǫ̶̢̗̲̪̣̳̫̗̼̝̮̲̰̟̻̠̎͐̽̅͑̉ͥ̅͐ͪ́̚͞ț̴̯̼̺̂̊̔̈ͤ̐ͭ̂̐̎̂̇̒͑̾̚͘͘͟͠ͅh͐̐ͦ͂̑ͤͬ̇̑ͦ̓̍ͨ̌ͯ̎҉̵̛̠̝̣̞͉̭͈͙͈̫͉̤͎̰̥͓̟̤͠e̷͕̫̜͎͎̤͇͚̠͕̪͎ͬ̌̒̌ͭ̋ͤ͐̀̆̀̚r̵̢̹̰͉̦̥̭̼̆̂̊̇ͧ̾̀̎͂̎̇̀̕͠ ̷̰̼̦̭͉̜̼̜͔͈ͨ͂̔ͨ́́́͜c̡͇͍̝̪̬̤̘̣̭͍̝͙̮̻̻̎ͤͣ̑ͤͦ͒̒͐͋ͤͩ̚͞ò̤̭̣̯̟̤͙̫̤̰̜̼̦̼ͤ̾͆͊͑ͬ̒̓ͭ͐͋̀̆ͥ̑͒͟͡ḓ̯͍̻̭̗̮͉̫̯͈̼̩̜̂̑̽ͦ̃̂̈́ͫ́͟͝e̓ͦ͗̇̾̓̒̅̊ͨ̾͆̇̓͞҉̖̠̣̭̱̱̥̲͎̝͈̰͈̪͈͉͟ ̶̧͇̺͔̮̹̭̫̫̙̫ͮ͊̆̄ͭͫͯ̂̒͗̀̚͢ͅn̛̥̯̼̯̥͓͉̻̥͍͗ͬ̑̋͐ͣͣ͜aͧ͛̽ͯ̐ͨ͋ͥ̂͑̚҉̵̠̦̺̬̦̦̳̖̯͜m̵̼̠̰͖̭̰͎̙͔̞̪͇̊̒̾ͮͬͣͫ͋͐̿ͦ̿̚͘͞ͅͅe͂ͯ͒̇ͨ̀̇̿͗̐͒̒͏̴҉͓͇̻͍̜̝̠ͅš̵͕̯͕̯ͨ͊ͥͭ̂͒̃̿́́͜͞ ͍̱̣̩̯͔̺̝̺͖͕̲̣̯̖̞ͭ͐͑͗̎ͤ̂͂̀̌͒́̔̍͜͞͠ͅǎ̈̐̂̓̒̅̃͆̋ͪ͛ͦ̅͏͉͇̼̰̫̘̤͜r̨̰͇͔̫̝̹͖̟̝̫ͨ̈́ͫ̂̒ͨ͛̒̄͒̈́̀̾̊ͭͣͭ͊̀͠͝͞e̍̏ͭͤ̎ͧͤͬͣͭ̌ͪ̀҉̪̘̳̠̟̭̞͓̝̩̟̮͎̰͎ ̛̙̯̼̤̲̪͖ͪ̔͋ͨ̌̒ͫ̓́̊̋ͭͩ̀͆͜L̷̖̮̩̞͚͉̤̹͇͖͔͕̖͛͛̇̎̿̏̕͞ơ̘̳̖̩̹̼̲͉͔̭̠͓͈̮̙̱̠͓̔͛ͪ͐ͨ̀ͬ̔ͮ̕r̴͈͕͓̙̠̘͉͕̝̹͖͈̞͖̲̼̮̘̂ͥ̓̆ͫ̄̋̄̈́̒͗̓̅̇͢d̡̨̛̻͖͓̘̾͒̅ͤ̀ͅͅ ̢͈̘̟̖̝̣̩͙̘̼ͮͥ̄͌ͬ͑ͤ̆̓͋́̕͞ͅḨ̵̗̫̬͎̱̪͖̣̼͉̝̥̔́ͧ̀͒̊̏̉̊̈́̍ͩ̚͟͟è̶̡̟͕̬̤̱͕̜̼̝̦̫͎͔͕̙̲͔̓̆̊̅̄͋ͫͨͥͦͧ̌ͭͫ͌ͮ̅͢͢͠l̷ͦ͐ͨͥ͑͋̔͜͠҉̺̜̯̮̗m̿̄͐̆̊̀̐ͬͪ͒̊͏̨͈̤̭͍̩̣̪̼̺͍̘̬́̀͢ ̴̷̮̪̼̤͍ͯ̇ͦ͆̽̌͗ͥ̇̍̂ͩͥ́̈́A̷̢̐̔ͧͫ̋ͪ̽̈́͛ͦ̆ͥͪͤ͢͜͏͈̩̦͇̬͉̟̥͚̻͕̣̯̬̞͈̖̳̯n̢͈͚̗̘̳̺̑̋̀͒ͯ͜͝ͅd̶̬̪̯̮ͣ̐͑̾ͣ̏̓̕͘͢͞ ̛̘̱͓̪̥̗̲͙̩̳̤̱̘̟̜̖̙ͩ͆͛̑̓͂̇̚[ͯ̈̊̌͐͏̘͙̤̥̻̲͞R̛̺̣̖̜͇̘͉̣͚͚̼̝̠͕̗͛̓ͯ̓̈͊̌ͪ͆͛ͥ̎̚̕ͅË̷̴̛̫̭̻͈̘̬̺̠̩̪̺́͂̾̐͊ͪ͗ͪ̐̀͞D̷̷̸̷̟͓̹̻̤̝̗ͮ̍̏̀̀̎ͥ̀͟A̸̧̢͓̻̱̤̥̗̮͚̦̘̰̒ͣͭ̐̐̄͋͊ͣ̒̈͌͋̈͌́̕C̵̡̙̙̺̦͚̫̙͓̞̖̟̬̠̑͒ͭ̏̃̐ͪ͑͆͗͂͒ͯ̊̌̐̎́T͂̈́̅ͥͮ̾̚̕͏̧̤̜̠̩͚̥͔͓̥̤̀͝ͅȨ̷̻̞̝͍̖̩̤͎̤͕̰̻̮͚̊̓͒̏ͥ̉̀͟D̢̾ͪ̅͑̔̏҉̦̙̺̤͇̼͈̘̣̰͍̪͖̙̝͚͍̲́͜͢ͅ]̸̨̐̿̉̑̓̏̕͢҉̤̱̯̫̹̹̱͉̞͔̻̼͎̲ͅ ͣ͑ͯ̊̾͆͗̀

I don't even know anyone knows me anymore I used to be a human and now I'm a entity took control by my split personality I'm a reality bender as well I can't be contained they Class me XZ class Because I can't be contained Iv seen other things in the future that I should not have Saw and now I'm took control by a corrupted image of me my split personality has took control he ants me join his side this might be The end for now.. or is it? [END LOG] the containment and information of this reality bending scp is now classified as a infohazared read if you dare. Day 1 I have not been feeling good I keep feeling like something is controlling me.. maybe it nothing— day 2 Iv seen my friends saying if I'm alright like I woke up and̕ fo͏r̷got abo̡u̶t sơm͝et͡h̴i͜ng i͠ di͢d̕ b̢ut t̶h͞e o͝ther͘s̸ rem̴e̸m͟b͟er. day 3 Iv now been doing [REDACTED] my [REDACTED] are now watching me they notice that in the [REDACTED] Reading I'm starting to G̨̕l̵͡i͜t͡͠͡c͠h̴͜ like and each time I do the things readings the readings become even more d̢̧i͜ś̶̨̛̀t̴̴͝͝o̶҉̵̡͞r̷̡̕t̷̛͝ȩ̸d͏̡͟͡ to the viewers. day 4 my friends has now notice there something in me like if there a 2 me co̕͝͠n͠t̷r̸o̷l͏̵l̡̛͞i̴͏ng̶ m̴̕ȩ.̛͟͢ day 5 I finally know it a split personality but not any split personality this split personality is like no other I seen before it like a killer a G̴̡l̸̡͞͠I̡͜͟͝t̨C͞͞h̴̕͜͠͞ trying control me my friends has now noticed this is a rough night- day 5 I'm now talking to this spit personality I call it a evil split personality [UNKNOWN]-I can just feel the struggle to keep a clutch own Mr Dark his humanity. I can hear the demons he's fighting with each passing note. The terror and hatred that is dashing through his mind. Struggling for control. It's absolutely poetic. 2 Mr Dark Us now talking to his split personality split personality-All you need to do is let me in. It's as simple as that" Dark hissed in pain as that same, annoying and unbearable ringing overcame his senses.
"It's alright, Dark. I'll make it stop for you. You just need to let. Me. In." The voice said, slightly more frustrated as it finished its sentence.
"When I promised to let you in, I was at a low point. I was vulnerable and you took advantage of me. I'm not making the same mistake twice," dark whispered quietly. dark could practically hear the grin in the voice. "I know exactly how to be you You'd only use them!" dark cried softly Ah yes, but what for? Money? Fame? Come now, you don't actually think that I want to hurt your loyal [REDACTED], do you?" The voice now echoed around him. dark blinked and he was floating in a void. So again. Let. me. in."No! I can't! I know what you're like, I know the things you've done and I know that you're a bad person! I need to be strong, for innocents, as he thought he had won, the voice spoke again.
"You're growing weaker, dark. They'll notice something is wrong sooner or later." dark felt a pair of hands grasp his shoulders softly from behind. Ringing louder than ever, the voice whispered directly into his left ear. "But I can take it away. I can give you peace, and you won't have to worry about them suspecting a thing if I'm the one pulling the strings." dark shut his eyes tight as the hands left his shoulders and he could hear a presence move in front of him. He didn't want to see the owner of the voice. Not one bit.
"They'd call you crazy or an attention whore if you tried opening up about me. They wouldn't believe you. After all, nobody understands your… case." dark could hear a small triumphant chuckle resonate from where he was facing. He opened his eyes, looking at the void beneath him, feeling helpless. The pain he was feeling, both from the ringing and the desire to be with the ones he loved left him considering giving in. However, he needed to know one thing first. He thought it was silly but it was all he could think of.

"But… why? I understand that you're a manipulator but what is your goal?" dark looked up at the figure standing in front of him. A corrupted mirror image of himself like he was wearing a human suit. Wearing his hair, his clothing, his face and yet completely different. The entity that haunted dark for years.
dark had always been questioning exactly what it was that the voice wanted from him. And as if the voice finally heard him, he- no, it responded. The ringing was louder than ever now.

"The real question here is,"

The Evil split personality grinned.

"Do you understand me? Nobody does."

Now you see what my story is!? it over.. I'm now in it hands G̴̡͈̖͎̪̞̯̐̑ͯ̃ͨ̍̐̑͆̇̊̏͊ͫͥͣͅo̵̶̠̜̪̮̝͈ͭ͐ͣ̾̑̃̍͐͢͢o̴ͧ̔̑ͪ̐ͯ̒͗̊ͣ͒͌͒̃̔ͩͪ͏̺͕͚̱̘̟͙̹̫̜̳̙̦͞d̉b̶̷̵̥̹̰̝ͨ͊ͥͦ̃̑̐̏́͐͌̄̓͆̀yͫe̵͖̯͕̞̟͉͐ͦ̍̎͌̓̓ͦ̓͢͠.̏ͪ̀ͭ̎̂ and to the viewers that read this YOU CAUSED THIS HAPPEN" Think what you did and changed a human life next time" T̡͘͝͡͞h̶̴̕͟͠ę̴͞r̸̡̛͜e̵̢̛͜ į̨s͞ n̴͟o̕͝ o̢͘n̵̢̛e̷̶̷͜͠ s̴̷̕͜͡a͏̴̷͟͝v̸̵̸͠e̛͢͡ m̡͡è͜ n̛ó̵̢̕w͢͏ g̛͡ó̸͘͝ơ̸͘d̨̡͡b̕͢͡y҉̡́̕e͡҉.̡̡̧̕

After what happened a lot foundation died over [REDACTED] amount of people died due to this scp split personality the following is of what happened on that day [REDACTED] at [REDACTED] looking into the containment of what happened Sir the reality benders containment an files has been killed off so what happened? it breached ad messed up time timeline it made the date 600 years later not 600 years in the past as we thought then we need stop this scp! we cant said the [REDACTED] as he died the site begin to fall apart and [REDACTED] nukes an warheads were all went up at once killing the sites and all sites around the area witch killed [REDACTED] many people this scp is still wanted and be contained after what happened there was a reality bending thing that happened reality it self started falling apart as anyone can go everyone could remember whiteness as that point because reality is not reality anymore before this happened the foundation survived blearily by contacting all [REDAACTED] to set the foundation back in time so this would never happened the foundation survived barley with over [REDACTED] people dead there was no foundation let so they had restart all over again You can not contain the split personality you can't contain it or nothing jest leave it be or it be the fate f all reality's there for classified this scp as a ZX class.

No way of luck trying contain this entity and trying to access the entity's files you can't people tried but the file git [REDACTED] each time. there for no one can read it and AFTER what happened to the site before the end the world turned into a brown dusty wasteland it seems like after what happened the split personality/reality bender has been sent in the far future and now turned everything to a dusty brown waste land full of nothing but abandoned places and towns as the sky is brown and red and the rivers are full of blood an the houses and towns slowly loose there paint it seems like this split personality made a GOI cult of some kind this cult is much more powerful then the church the broken god and likes the world to die well this cult believes creating a new world another world or a dimensions world that holds all reality's and other unknown the church the broken god has tried t raid this cult and failed at the end in the end parts of the church of the broken god were murdered by this cult and the leader of this cult drank the commander of the church the broken god blood as doing so he became stronger and began to rampage a killing spree on the Cult of Sarkicism there sects were killed by this "Cult owned by the split personality later to become "Are Lord Will Rise" GOI-[UNKNOWN] started killing off some the Cult of Sarkicism and leaving them and there sects alone same goes with the church the broken god an there sects. and GOI-[UNKNOWN] is unknown to the foundation but the foundation has discovered something about them this is the GOI-[UNKNOWN] file The GOI-[UNKNOWN] speak in a glitch launquge and are all split personality's "So called Created By The One" this GOI-[UNKNOWN] are known to be hostile to almost every GOI there is even scps died during meeting with the GOI-[UNKNOWN] leader and GOIs that all to know about GOI-[UNKNOWN] for now

-even more information about this "Entity" [CODENAME[ [BREACH] this is the information of [GOI UNKNOWN] The forest across the canal loomed towards him. The worst ice storm Detroit had seen in a century had done its work well, transforming the entirety of the park into frozen sculptures. The trees seemed to grasp at the air as they swayed in the howling wind. Many of their branches had already broken under the weight, falling heavily onto the icy stream below.
He eyed the forest, standing on the other side of the worn stone bridge, hands buried in his pockets. He’d seen the bridge before in pictures and its utter mundaneness came as something of a surprise. The stones embedded in the concrete were ancient, stripped of the snow that had recently covered them by the wind. Whatever handrails had once guarded the edges of the bridge were gone, long since rusted away. Except for the thick, slushy trail of blood that ran up the center of it, there was absolutely no indication of what he knew was waiting for him on the other side.
He had an idea who the blood on the bridge belonged to. Lucille Gale had been the last of seven young adults who to have disappeared in a month. The first six had been found already, their bodies discovered in various locations along the bank of the Detroit river. The first of them had his skin completely removed, expertly flayed off. The second was so badly ripped apart that it had taken a week to identify her. The third was found lying in an alleyway with lungs full of water and seaweed, a full hundred meters away from the river.
It wasn’t until a fourth teenager was found with her skeleton missing that his organization took interest. They’d swooped down onto the case overnight, so desperate to get him onto the scene that they’d sent him there via translocation. From the moment he emerged from the Detroit alleyway, shaking off the horror of what he always saw when he translocated, it had been nothing but investigation with the local police and terrified locals. The first of them had his skin completely removed, expertly flayed off. The second was so badly ripped apart that it had taken a week to identify her. The third was found lying in an alleyway with lungs full of water and seaweed, a full hundred meters away from the river. The first of them had his skin completely removed, expertly flayed off. The second was so badly ripped apart that it had taken a week to identify her. The third was found lying in an alleyway with lungs full of water and seaweed, a full hundred meters away from the river. The FBI got involved when two more children turned up dead (exsanguinated and strangled with their own intestines, respectively) Federal agents were always the most difficult to deal with. They were suspicious of his badge, despite it being completely authentic. They were suspicious of how massive he was, towering over most of them, easily broader than any. They were suspicious of how much he already knew about the case, despite having arrived only a few days before they.
What made them more suspicious then anything was how quickly their bosses told them to shut up and get out of his way. The men who ran the Bureau from their offices in D.C. had no idea who he was, and none of them were interested in finding out. They had all heard the legends from those that had led the Bureau before them. They knew what happened when men like him showed up on the scene of a crime too terrible for words. The problem stopped, and it was better to not ask questions how. Any federal involvement was quickly terminated, and the assigned agents reassigned somewhere else.
They’d remember this case for the rest of their lives. They might one day have colleagues who had similar encounters with men like him, and endlessly discuss what organization he might have represented. Theories ranged from an obscure Homeland Security cell to the CIA Special Operations Group. They would jokingly refer to men like him as ‘The Others,’ ‘Those We Don’t Speak Of,’ ‘The Activity,’ or even as ‘The Men in Black’ if they were feeling sarcastic. His organization knew all of this. There wasn’t much they didn’t.
The man took a reading. The palm-sized device lit up, whirring as he placed it on the ground. He stepped back, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. The twin marbles of glass atop the reader spun faster and faster, the silver liquid inside them catching the bright blue light shining from the dozen or so diodes that covered the front and back of the device. After a few frantic seconds the marbles were spinning so fast above the device the man could no longer see them. A moment later the reader gave a frantic shriek. The globes exploded in a puff of powdered glass, the liquid flying through the air but evaporating before it touched the ground. He sighed and lit his cigarette. “Initial readings suggest an unusually high breach in the Jovlin-Knight Barrier,” he said. “The presence of the remains of Lucille Gale confirms initial assumptions that she did not survive the hosting. Extreme weather patterns indicate the presence of a Midnight-Level Event occurring within the confines of the breach.”
He put his smoke to his lips again. The cherry flared brightly, a tiny speck of light burning defiantly in the darkness. The FBI and the police might not have a clue what the missing teens had in common, but he had known it the moment he had visited the morgue and seen their tortured bodies. Each of them was psychic. Very, very psychic, and Lucille Gale most of all. He doubted that any of them were fully aware of it. Perhaps they had experienced vivid dreams that later came true, or had wondered whether or not they were at fault for the power outages that followed their every outburst. If left to themselves they would have grown exponentially more powerful, most likely to the point where they would have been targeted and killed by his organization. There were very few like them that managed to make it into adulthood, and none of them managed to die of old age.
Even at their nascent stage, however, they possessed more than enough raw ability to be of use to something on the other side. Something was trying desperately to come through, something that had no place even in a nightmare. The other six teens had proven unsuitable as doorways, but judging from the cataclysmic storm that had engulfed half the county, the man guessed that Lucille Gale would prove more than adequate. Inhale. He felt the smoke burn a trail down his lungs as he considered his next words. “I still plan on crossing,” he said. “Regardless of what’s fueling the breach, I’ll ensure sufficient distraction or damage to allow Aegis translocation into the target area. Upon loss of communication, I stand by my original recommendation of an immediate kinetic on my last known position.” He paused. “Not that you ever listen to what I have to say.”
His answer was the howling wind, and a voice that spoke directly into his mind. He would have smiled at the response if smiling were something he was capable of. Instead he drew Jovlin’s gun from its holster on his side, the massive revolver fitting snugly into his equally massive hands. He squeezed the rubberized grip, fingers caressing the raised knotwork that adorned the barrel. The man took one last drag on his cigarette, flicking it away as he strode purposely onto the bridge, careful to keep his steps within the trail of Lucille Gale’s remains.
Normally crossing over required a tremendous amount of concentration and no small amount of luck. His repelling tattoos would burn so bad they’d singe his skin, and the tiny nodes lining the center of his brain would overload with static. Wearing an Aegis made it a bit easier, but even the best protection his organization could offer didn’t keep out the visions. He’d been there when Jovlin had died, and it was that memory that was returned to violent life every time he translocated. This time there were no visions, no screaming ghosts from decades past. He simply stepped out of here and into nowhere, the symbols that were carved onto his flesh flaring briefly beneath his heavy clothing. The ease of the translocation confirmed his worst fears. It took a lot of power to rend such a huge hole in reality. Whatever caused this had been very old and very, very angry. For the first time, he wondered bemusedly if he’d been right to turn down assignment to an Aegis unit.
Regardless, he was relieved to see that the trail of human remains provided him a clear path through what was otherwise a land of absolute madness. Whatever thing had nested and birthed itself in the mind of Lucille Gale had not been kind to her. The thick, black-red smear on the ground led deep into the forest which now towered thousands of feet up into the air. He thought he caught a glimpse of something massive above him, moving in the storm clouds, its barbed coils swaying lazily from the sky. The frost-covered branches of the trees were all screaming with a woman’s voice, weeping and sobbing, crying for a mother and a father and the safety of home. He assumed the voice was Lucille’s.
He started off down the trail, booted feet splashing noisily in gristle that seemed to grow deeper as he walked. Around him the world shifted and rearranged itself at random. The trees exploded, sending ice shards the size of buildings crashing down around him. Something massive fell out of the sky, its leathered wings curling around its dead form, crashing to the earth behind a distant mountain range that abruptly forced itself out of the frozen earth. The wind intensified, and on it he could hear a name being whispered over and over again. He didn’t recognize the name. He wondered if it was his.
The further he went along the trail, the more twisted reality became. He wondered how deep into the forest he was actually going in the real world. On more than occasion he had traveled for days inside a breach, only to find himself a step or two away from where he had started upon crossing out. Time and distance could have very little meaning in the Veiled World. Mercifully the laws of physics (usually) held sway, but those laws were easily bent or broken depending on what was causing such an awesome disturbance.
There was a place, he knew, where physics simply didn’t exist. Even as he walked he could see it, far on the horizon, a thin line of shadow that seemed to swallow up even the darkness. Calling it oblivion wasn’t accurate. There were things in the Nothing, things that made the horrors he dealt with on a regular occasion seem downright pleasant. He’d been to the edge before, watching reality and un-reality disappear into the howling claws of whatever waited for men and demons on the other side of existence.
Men smarter then he surmised that whatever it was had no power to enter or affect the world he sought to protect. He supposed this was true; it was hungry, and would have long since devoured the third dimension had it been capable.
The ground beneath his feet shook, and he suddenly found himself standing in a clearing. The storm-wracked sky was gone, replaced with a peaceful canvas devoid of any light save that of a full moon. The wind stopped abruptly. Snowflakes fell slowly through the air like the inside of a tumbling snow globe. A vast clearing spread out before him, the smeared remains of an overly ambitious psychic a vivid splash of red on the virgin snow.
There was a child in the clearing at the end of the trail. The boy was sobbing, his knees drawn up to his chest. The man approached him slowly. He tentatively took a step off the pathway and into the snow. His feet sunk into reassuring solid ground. The man began circling the boy, trudging through snow that came up to his shins. “Go away,” the boy sniffled, burying his face in his arms. “Go away! I just want to be left alone.”
The man didn’t say anything. It was better to not talk to them if you could avoid. They’d played the game for eons; any word you spoke could be used against you. Instead he kept circling, trying to see the child’s face. He didn’t understand why this was important, but that was irrelevant. Gut instinct had kept him alive up to that point and he trusted it to take him further.
“Why did you follow me?” The boy screamed, kicking his feet into the ground. “I want to be left alone! Leave me alone!”
The world around them trembled slightly, and the man cursed under his breath. “You aren’t alone,” he answered. He had to buy himself more time. It needed to be tricked into revealing its true self, or it might simply push him back out into reality out of annoyance. “You’re with Lucille. Lucille Gale. Remember?”
Face still buried in his arms, the boy laughed. “Lucille. I remember Lucille. The other ones all ran, but Lucille wasn’t afraid. She stayed. She told me that she wasn’t afraid, that she wanted to help me. She held me so close…” His voice changed in an instant, becoming a tone no human vocal cord could ever hope to produce. “She’s rotting inside me. I cannot be bound. I cannot be harmed. I am eternal.”
“You might be eternal, but your son wasn’t, was he?” The warding tattoos on his skin started to prickle. That was a good sign. It was getting angry. “That’s who you’re pretending to be right now. Your son.” You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the boy sniffed, his voice that of a child’s again. “I’m just a little boy. I’m just a little boy, all alone out here in the woods.”
“No, you’re not. Your name is Claude Lachay. You killed your wife and son here, before it was a park. Before there were many people here at all. You started running, and when you couldn’t go anymore you killed a family that tried to help you. You ate them. Do you remember? You ate them, but even that couldn’t keep you from starving. You nearly died from hunger in the wilderness a hundred miles north of here.” The man cocked his head to the side, and decided to push the issue. “You pissed yourself when the wolves came. You screamed for your mother when they started eating you, like you screamed for her every day in Hell.”
The child exploded in a shower of blood. His face landed on the snow next to the man, steam pouring from its eyes sockets and laughing mouth. Where the child once stood was what his organization would call a ‘Class I-IX Paranormal Entity,’ unveiled in all its horrific glory. Its three heads sprouted from between its shoulders, each of them gnashing on a tongue that flickered like a snake. A pair of arms sprouted from between its legs, their fingers ended in leech-like mouths. The skin on its bloated stomach was stretched so far it was nearly transparent. Inside it he could see the tortured face of Lucille Gale, her hands pushing desperately to get out.
The thing that was once Claude Lachay, the first serial killer to walk American soil, thundered with laughter. Its voice echoed around the clearing where it had committed its first crimes nearly three hundred and fifty years prior. “I cannot be bound. I cannot be harmed. I am eternal. I am…God!”
The first round fired through Jovlin’s gun put an end to such boastful nonsense. Lachay roared as the round tore a fist-sized hole through the center of one of its heads. It clapped a massive hand to its face, reeling in agony. The man fired again and again, moving towards it at a flat-out run. While the danger of being forced out of the breach was over, he now faced the equally real threat of death at the target’s hands. Jovlin’s revolver was a powerful weapon against the denizens of the Veil, and the fact that it had already proved ineffective told him everything he needed to know.
He’d never survive a direct fight. Lachay had dragged itself out of the pit, and the mindless hate that allowed such perseverance had twisted it something wholly inhuman. Every heaving breath it took was the scream of a dying man; every guttural curse was the wheeze of lungs filling with bloody clots. It was a lord of death now, a corpse god, the grave incarnate.
The only way to finish this was to destabilize the breach enough to allow armored translocation. The only way to destabilize the breach was to kill the soul that was fueling it. Each of the bullets he fired found their mark. By the time he had reached the target the man had already reloaded. He fired at point blank range, aiming at Lachay’s bloated stomach. A massive, scaled hand moved to intercept the rounds. The same hand struck him hard, tossing him through the air. He fired as he flipped head over heels, managing to keep the target at bay as he rolled on the ground. It was on him by the time he righted himself, choking as its tongues whipped towards his torso and legs.
He thought about evading, considered his options, and calmly decided against it. The barbs bit into his flesh and tensed, digging into his skin. He grunted, pain dampeners flooding his system. The venom hit him a second later. He vomited, body shuddering in the throes of a seizure as the poison reached his brain. The receptors in his skull were shrieking, fighting off both the toxins and the terrifying psychic power Lachay was unleashing through his unwilling host. He caught brief glimpses of the monster’s past; the last, confused looks on the faces of the Chippewa family he had butchered, the taste of human flesh in his mouth, the awful, maddening climb out of the bottom of torment back into the world of the living.
The man felt the barbs tense, followed by a violent jerking on his left leg. He looked down in time to see it come clean off, ripped away at the knee, disappearing down Lachay’s gullet.
He saw his leg floating inside Lachay’s bloated stomach as he fired into it again and again. Distracted, the target had no chance to defend itself. Its immense stomach popped like a blister, spewing digestive juices over the frozen earth. It dropped him as it stumbled backwards, yelping, its hands clapped over its stomach. Between its massive fingers, the half-digested form of Lucille Gale spilled out. She writhed in the snow, screaming through a mouth that had fused shut.
Lachay reached for her desperately, but it was already too late. The man fired a single shot. The high-caliber shell blew her head clean off.
The clearing was completely still for a moment. Then there was an earth shattering roar that sounded all too familiar to him. The breach shuddered and tilted. The whole world sloped at a downward angle, making Lachay stumble and fall. Both monster and man went tumbling head over heels towards the edge of the forest. The man’s fevered mind screamed at him to make sure he landed on the bridge. At the last second he reached out, his hand slapping down into the trail of blood, arresting his fall as he held tight to his only line back to reality. There was another roar, and Nothingness came howling up towards them. The world below him almost completely vanished, the trees and the mountain ranges swallowed up by a mouth made up of nightmares. The power of Lucille Gale, wielded ruthlessly by Lachay, had been the only thing that had kept the breach open. With her death, the thin barrier between the Veiled World and what lay beyond came crashing down.
He saw Lachay land in the trees below. The monster leapt back into the clearing, scrabbling to find purchase in the snow. The man calmly fired his remaining rounds into the target, watching as each bullet hit home. With one last howl, the monster lost its grip and fell down into darkness.
The man didn’t have any time to feel satisfied. The breach was collapsing, shaking apart at the seams. Like a rising tide the Void came up to greet him, laughing and screaming. He could make up indistinct shapes as it came on; shapes that reminded him of Jovlin, the smell of her hair and the sound of her voice when she told him
I’ll love you until the day I die and the look on her face when she fell, when she let go, when she LET GO! LET GO! LET GO!
LET GO AND FALL!
“Agent Hauser.”
The man looked up into glowing blue eyes. The Aegis was only a few feet above him, standing with its steel feet planted firmly in the bridge. The dying light of the breach cast strange shadows over its black armor and menacing weapon arrays. It reached out to him, its fingers strangely slender for such a massive construct.
“We haven’t much time, sir,”it said. “Please take my hand to initiate translocation.”
Hauser didn’t hesitate. He holstered his pistol in a single fluid motion and reached for its hand. Half a dozen ports on the Aegis’ back popped open with a pneumatic hiss. The construct’s translocation generator came online, emitting brilliant white light as it drank in the otherworldly energy of the breach
“Translocation imminent,” it intoned. “Brace for impact.”
Hauser looked down. Nothingness looked back at him, smiling. Reaching.
“Brace for impact. Brace for impact. Brace-“
He hit the snowy ground so hard it drove the air out of his lungs. He gasped, rolling onto his side. The wind that had been howling moments before seemed to calm by the moment. Soon it had disappeared entirely, the snow it had been driving left to tumble lazily to the earth. The entire world seemed to have become still and silent.
His eyes were drawn to the cigarette he had flicked away before entering the breach. It was inches away from him, still burning. He’d been gone only seconds in the real world. He reached for it with a trembling hand, the cherry flaring brightly as he inhaled. It was almost too damp to smoke, but he’d never tasted anything better.
The Aegis was already working on his leg. Hauser felt a brief twinge of pain as it spread anti-septic paste over his wound, spraying it from a small retractable hose attached to its hip. The paste quickly turned to a murky red gel as it stopped the bleeding. In a few seconds Hauser’s entire leg went numb, and he could feel the pain dampening drugs in his system start to recede.
It turned to look at him, the center eye of its forehead turning a bright green as it scanned his vital signs. I apologize,” it said. “I arrived as soon as translocation became possible. I had hoped to get there in time to assist you with the entity, and prevent such damage from occurring.” Hauser managed a weak laugh. “Killing the psychic was the only way to make translocation possible, and this…” He waved his hand at his stump. “This was the only way to get close enough for a clean shot. I’m still glad you came. If it had finished me off, someone would have needed to finish the job.” Hauser paused, squinting up at the construct’s expressionless face. “Who is that in there?”
The Aegis gave a metallic laugh as its visor slid back. A female face stared back at him, pale and young and covered in scars. “You might not remember me, Agent Hauser,” she said, her voice soft and lilting. “I was in training for the Aegis program when you were sent on your last assignment.”
“I remember you. I was there when you were initiated and picked your name. Bellona. Agent Bellona.” He took another drag on his cigarette, staring up at the stars. She’d had fewer scars then. “Damned pretentious name, if you ask me.”
He heard the sound of her visor slide shut as a response. “Recovery units are en route,” she said in the sexless voice of a machine. “They will be here within the minute. Since he is certain your receivers have almost certainly shut down as a result of your psychic trauma, Agent Dolos has asked me to extend congratulations to you on his behalf.” Bellona cocked her head to the side, and Hauser could sense her smile even behind the impassive face mask.“He also says he would never have authorized the kinectic strike, even if we’d lost track of you within the breach. He said he will always give you a chance to find your way out.”
Now it was Hauser’s turn to laugh. “He wouldn’t say that if he had seen what was in there. One of these days, something is going to come through and we’ll have to blow the breach to kingdom come. One of these days, I’ll be right.” He leaned his head back into the freezing snow, letting it cool his head. The static from the destroyed receptors inside his skull was giving him a pounding headache. Taking one last inhale, he tossed the smoke away from him for good.
It landed solidly on the grisly path Hauser had taken into nothingness. Drowned in blood, surrounded by darkness, the light of the cigarette quickly faded and died.

that the information/GOI information about "The Cult GOI" witch is "Lord helm will rise or [UNKNOWN] GOI that the information about this GOI/scp Split personality for now.

WARNING FROM THE "Lord Helm Will Rise" Aka The [UNKNOWN GOI]

information [FILE about the Dark split personality's history" [CODENAME] A War With My Alter Ego
It a sunny day a bright house is in the hills there's a person who is haunted by his Alter Egos the person is dreaming again? as the hills turn dark as night the person sees one of his Alter Egos he looks at it wears a red bloody blindfold holding a dagger with it evil grin it stares at him then he wakes up panic he is he starts say is this all a dream.. he says out loud staring at the timer he get's up he goes to the front his house his friend is inside he finds a "Mysterious" brown book he opens it he find some notes saying [REDACTED] he gets up the brown book says that he be in a dark forest and so it puts him inside the book trapped he is no way get out the book now he looks around it it black an white like a TV he all sudden hears Alter Ego aka "The Host" he hears a voice call out his name it says his name in a mean way he looks around "The Host" says find the 12 pages and you may get out hear he finds 2 out of 0 pages found in the distance he sees another page in goes faster he picked up 10-out of 2 more pages left "He feels as if something watching him" he looks around he sees nothing he picks up one more page "Great another page to go he says" "The Host says and the story ends WRITE under HIS NOSE ALMOST" he turns around he sees the one last note he picks it up the area zooms out it shows "The Host" but this time wearing a dark grey hood with a bat mean while as you pick up the one last page "The Host says and it involves "Blood Force Trauma!" WHAM the person is knocked out hit from the bat he wakes up he finds himself in a wood shack full of saws and blades he looks around he sees "The Host Standing Near him" The Host says your friend cooperated but yet you did not.. The host looked disappointed The Host said I kill you like what happened to your friend.. you start say nothing THEN Your friend breaks into the room and says OFF MY FRIENND The host looks back and git shot three times his friend says I HOPE YOU INJOY WHAT YOU DONE.. Then he and his friend leave the place While The Host says NOOOO and then they leave. The Host survived the shot and said when they all left THIS IS NOT OVER! and then "It ends" a story by the "Deep Unknown" -[THE UNKNOWN GOI] [FILE CODENAME The Social Manipulator] What is the Social Manipulator? object class KETER it a dark split personality that likes to Manipulate the The Social Manipulator "doesn't want to help you he wants to USE you" the The Social Manipulator is a 100% Manipulator the The Social Manipulator is "Not Your Friend" it is a dark split personality that will "USE You" to make you do what "IT" wants you to do The The Social Manipulator seems like "someone You can Trust" be leaves you in this "false sense of security" the The Social Manipulator claims he will give you "Anything" if you follow the The Social Manipulator deals At this time when you do his "deals" But in the end he use you to do something something that "HE wants" Maybe it your mind? your dark personality? who knows but when doing the The Social Manipulator you have no way of going back And the The Social Manipulator wants you to "TRUST him" because he wants to take a advantage of you From the surface Like especially in this first bit where he says "If dinner is what you want I can provide that". and makes you think you can trust him - WARNING - never trust the The Social Manipulator/The Dark Personality or he take over you - [UNKNOWN FILE] [UNKNOWN FILE] Accessing file- [FILE BELONGS TO GOI [UNKNOWN]- FILE - cognitohazardous [UNKNOWN FOR NOW-]
A̶̶͡n̵̕ḑ̵̷̛̀ y̷o̡͡u̸̕͜͏̧ à̡͟l̡l̴̡͘͢͞ d̴͟i̵͘e͏͏́ a̢̡t̶̢͘ [͢͡͏R̀͝͠E҉̴̢͘D҉̴A͟҉C҉̕͜T̷̷E̶̶̛͟Ḑ̕͜

[FILECODENAME] A Tale from a Unknown GOI
A tale from a unknown GOI first off I will speak this tale Now you ever heard of GOI-0098467 This GOI is so called "The Unknown Cult" aka know as "The Rise Of The lord" now this is a tale from GOI-0098467 aka "The Rise Of our lord" there are 498 members of "The Rise Our Lord" The Leader of this cult GOI group is named Lord Helm And is a god Lord helm has raided The Church the broken god the scp foundation and other GOIs this GOI known as the "Rise Of Our Lord" This Cult GOI is known to raid other GOI Groups rather if it good or bad the "Rise of our lord Will Still Raid Them.
"WARNING YOU ARE NOT WELCOMED HERE"
"THIS IS A MESSEGE FROM "The Rise Our Lord"
"ARE LORD HELM SHELL RISE
"AND THE END WILL COME!" [CODENAME] [The Deep unknown] Hello, There Fellow Human We Will explain about something interesting today. Now have you ever seen a person gone though space and time and other timelines? well we will be explaining something about that but instead something about a very Unknown GOI From "The Deep Unknown" Now this so called Unknown GOI is called the [???] there is no name or nothing. again The [???] is a GOI very unknown and strange GOI information the [???] is a group of interests that *helps the foundation* Little is currently known about the unknown GOI this unknown GOI was called the [???] ? First sighted in [REDACTED],in the future they have had numerous appearances since [REDACTED] typically described as a unknown group with unknown background Their agenda is currently unknown, but the foundation does not really know this GOI but the [???] does know about the foundation as well as other CLASSIFIED stuff the group of interests founded by [REDACTED] who is a unknown entity now evidence had pointed out this entity exist but a few even heard abut this entity or seen it before the entity knows about the foundation but the foundation does not know of this entity [REDACTED] ho made this GOI has came from the future the [???] has exist long before in the future the [???] has seen the rise and fall of other groups of interests but the [???] does want help the foundation and wants protect so no other thing can harm it that all information about this unknown GOI that came from the "Deep Unknown"… [CODE NAME ???] GOI-???
So what is GOI-[???] if you ask? GOI-[???] is a GOI that came from another timeline that is out this universe this GOI-[???] has been known to help the scp foundation and kill all threats that try to harm the scp foundation the [???] has advanced technology so advanced the foundation does not even know what it is and the advanced technology that the [???] is unknown but yet powerful the [???] is to however have wars on the church the broken god the C.I and [REDACTED] the [???] also has ally's that are yet to be unknown to the scp foundation Note when meeting the [???] take in interest to them. [FILE [???] SCP-XXXXXV is a unknown enity that takes the name of [???] scp [REDACTED] known as [???] owns a GOI name the [???] the scp foundation does not know of [???] or it powers but it is said that [???] has the powers of everything it wants SCP-XXXXXV Has no containiment due to it escaping it containment and due to SCP-XXXXV has every power it can have it wants it can breach containment and can kill everything it is unknown how SCP-XXXXXV how it kills and SCP-XXXXXV has egos of itself SCP-XXXXXV is a class XZ Because it has every power/infinity powers if you see scp-XXXXXV DO NOT GO NEAR or it end the world do not talk to it do not look at it SCP-XXXXXV it said to make people make himself/SCP-XXXXXV breach by going into there mind as well as SCP-XXXXXV can be a infohazard Memetic Cognitohazard scp
A̕͞f͟te͜͏̵r͞ t̛́͢hi͏s y͝o̡͠u͜͜͠ w͞ì́ĺ͟͜l҉ bè aff̸ect̶̕e͏̸͞d a͟n͢͟d̨̀ a̛l̨͠e̡͏r̡tȩd̵̀ b̛y͏͢ t͟h̨̛́ȩ̶̛ s̡c̶͞p̷ f͘o̕̕ù̸ń̵d̕a̷̕t͢i҉o̴̕n̶

[FILE NAME grey grey grey grey grey Red.] Ẁ̛͞͏h̶̨͢͝á͜͞͞t̴͝ d́̕̕͜͠ǫ̷̷̀és̶͜ t̶͡͠h̢̀i̸̸̵͟ś̛͏́ a͠ĺ̶͘͞l̨͢͡͡҉ ḿ͡e̴͝͡a̷̛̛͟ņ̡̀͏̡?̴̸̡͘͟ T̶̴h͜͜e̛̕ e̢̛̕͟͜n͏͢͠d̶̶̢ o̢̡͝͝͞f̧͢͏ t̴̀̕͢͠h̀͜e̢̢͢͞͠ w̷͘o͘͞ŗ̵̀͘͟l̷͠ḑ́.̨.̀͘͏̡?̡͟ g̢̢͝͡͞r̶̵̛̀͢ę͘͢ỳ̧͝͠͞ ǵ̵̛́͢r͏̡ȩ̸͘͞y͟ g̸͢r҉͠é́y̶̢҉ g̛͜͟͟͟r̀͝ę̢̕y̛ ģr̸̵ȩ́҉̕y̶͟ g̢͢ŗ̵̴̢҉ȩy̷̸ g̛̛̀r̶͏e̢̢͟͢ý g҉̴̧͝ŗ̷̴͟͝ȩ͟͠y̴̨͢͡͡ g͡͞҉҉̷r͘͠҉̴e̷y̶̸̕͠ g͏̵r̶̢̡̨e̸̡͢͜y̨̛͠͞ g̵̨͠͝ŕ͏͘ȩ̵͜y̛͏̡̧ g̴͢͠͞r̷͠e̶҉̨y͢͜ ǵ̢ŕ̴͢͢e͜͠ỳ́͞ g̸̀͘͟҉r̷̡è̶̀͠y͠͝ g͘͘͘͡͝ŕ̷̢͝e̢͢y͘ g̵̵̕͞ŕ͘ȩ͝͞y̵҉͞͡ g̀͟͝͝r̀͘e͠͏y̵̡͘͠͝ g̸͟͞r̷̨̢͘͡e̴͘͠͠y̶̨̕͞ g̵̴̛͘r̷̛͢͠e̷͝ỳ̸͟͠ g̸̨r̴̀ȩ̷̧y͢͏̨ g̶ŗ̴̨̢̕ȩ͞y̶̡͏ g̴͘r̸ę̷̕͡y̴̴ g͏͜͟ŕ͞ȩ̶̧͢y̡͘͏ g̢̛͠r͏̨̛́e͡͏̧̡́y̷͢͝ g̵̀͠r̷̴҉e҉̵͞y̶̸̨̕͡ ǵ̵̛̕͡ŗ̕̕e̵̢̨̢͘y͟͠ g̕҉̵̀͡r͡é̴́y̨̛͝ ģ̡͢͝͏r̴̶҉͢͡ȩ̵͡͡y̴̵̨͡͡ g͏́r͘͏̢e̶͞͠҉͏y̢̛͡͝ ǵ̛͜͝ŕ̵̀͟è̴̛ý̵҉̕ ģ̛ŗ̸͝͞e̛҉̵y̶̷̡̛̕ g̶r̵̷̶͘è͏̨́̕y͞҉ g͏̷̛͞r̸͜e̢̛ỳ̧͝ ģ͜r̨̧͟͟͠e̕҉͝ỳ̨҉̨͏ g̷̕͜͢r̨e̴̡̛͡͏y҉̴̶͟ģ̶͡҉r̶̵̷̀͡e̢̛͞͠y̨͠ g̡̢͏ŗ̶̛҉e̸̵͏y̡̕͞ g͞͏͘r҉̷͜e̶̶̢͡y͟҉҉͜͡ g̸͏r͘e̴͘͡y͘͟͜͡ g̵͠҉r҉̸é̶͟y̸̴̕ g̴͜͢͡͝r̡͢͝͝ę̴͞͞͝y͏̡̨͞ g̕͠͡r̨e̴̕ý͘͏̨ g͟͠ŗ̵̀͢é̴ý̶͜͡͝ g̴̴r͠͠e̴͜҉̸͡y̸̢͜͡͝ ģ̛͜r̢̀͟͟͞ȩ̛̛̕͡y̵̶ g҉̨̛͘͟r̷̀͘͢é̡̛̕y̷̧̢̛͞ g҉̷̧́r͟͝e̡͘y̢͝ ģ̨̕͜r͏e̷͘y̶̴̧ g̶͡r̷̸͟e̴͘͏y̡̡̛͟͡ g̵͞r͘͢͞͝ȩ̴̢́ỳ̢̛̕ g̴̶̢͝ŕ̡́͜͟e̷̡͟͡y̛͘͠͞ g̨͠ŕ̵͡͝è̷͜͠ỳ͢ ǵ̢͏̶̛r̷̛e̕͞ý̸͠͞ g҉̛̛͢͞r̨̀͢͜e͘͝y̴̡̡

R͢͜e̷҉d̶͠

[FILE NAME [The Horror of Eldritch Falls] My name is Steven Groves, and last week I killed a dozen innocent children.
I’m getting ahead of myself. That statement makes me sound like a madman, which I am not. I am a normal man, a humble small-town bookseller, not a murderer of innocents. The killings were not calculated: they were out of necessity.
To clarify, I live in a small suburban town in Virginia known as Eldritch Falls, and have lived here my whole life. It’s not a big town, but it has all the conveniences one needs to live comfortably in this day and age, I suppose. Our town of Eldritch Falls isn’t a sleepy hamlet, but it isn’t a bustling metropolis either. It is a nice, comfortable place to live; despite its name, nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened to Eldritch Falls since being founded in 1898. That is, until last week.
I run a small, cozy bookshop in the center of town, right across the street from a fast-food establishment. It was at this fast-food establishment I bore witness to the most shocking and unnatural catastrophe perhaps ever to occur in the history of mankind, something straight out of Lovecraft or Wells, as it were. It’s rather ironic that an event of this caliber took place in a town called Eldritch Falls, since what befell me in my town was straight out of the Mythos.
I say this because I am a bookseller, you see, and I can safely say that I have read every book stocked on the shelves in my shop. My shop specializes in horror and science fiction, classics and new works; as well, I am known in the tri-state area for my unparalleled collection of H.P. Lovecraft first-editions.
Anyway, the whole ghastly ordeal began quite suddenly at lunchtime on Wednesday, a usually quiet time for the shops on Main Street, including my own – save the McDonalds across the street, which is always busy at lunchtime and has, for as long as I can remember, always been. At first glance, this particular Wednesday at McDonalds was no different from any previous Wednesdays at the Eldritch Falls McDonalds. The small restaurant was at near capacity, crowded with harried mothers or fathers out for lunch with their precocious, demanding children, office and construction workers on break, and confused old ladies looking for a place to sit down and have a cup of coffee. I was on lunch-break myself, feeling a tad neurotic but otherwise at ease. In short, a normal day at the Eldritch Falls McDonalds.
That is, until I noticed the toys the children were playing with. Normally, Happy Meals contain some plastic action figure or keychain of a character from a popular children’s cartoon or movie. The toys the children received today were things I could only describe as looking like ornaments from a mad scientist’s Christmas tree. Approximately four inches in width and five inches in length, the things were flat and obsidian-black, shaped like a rectangle with four triangles and a circle stacked upon it. As I opened my “War of the Worlds” lunchbox, I watched two young boys who received the things in their meals playfully knocking their prizes together, not even questioning why they had not received Ninja Turtles in their Happy Meals.
“Pew pew! I’m a rocketship and I’m gonna blast you out of the sky!”
“No you’re not! I’m a robot and I’m gonna blast you out of the sky!”
I laughed to myself as I watched them play, fully aware that a situation like that would never happen in one of my beloved science fiction novels, unless one was written by an amateur. I resumed opening my lunch, pulling out a ham and cheese sandwich with just a touch more honey mustard on it than I usually want. Regardless, I lifted the sandwich to my mouth.
At that moment, I heard a blood-curdling scream; I turned frantically to see that one of the things had latched onto a boy’s face, covering his mouth. The thing had sprouted tentacles out of some unseen aperture, implanting them quite suddenly and quite savagely into the top of his head, most likely into his brain. I saw his body writhe with agony as the tentacles burrowed through him, ends erupting from seemingly every pore of his exposed skin in a shower of skin and blood. The only place I could still see skin was the back of his neck. The mechanism, firmly latched onto the mouth, was glowing faintly.
In that moment, almost without thinking, I pulled an absurdly sharp knife from out of my lunchbox; I fell to the floor where the child lay convulsing and sprouting new tentacles by the second, grabbed him by a cluster of tentacles where only a minute ago his hair was, and cut into his neck, severing the spinal cord and detaching his brain from the rest of his body. The boy’s body shuddered and went limp in my arms, the tentacles erupting from his body suddenly ceasing motion. The mechanism fell off of the boy’s mouth, landing in my blood-smeared hands without a sound. I had done what I previously believed only one of the heroes in a science fiction novel could have done. An unexpected wave of relief fell over me: the child was saved, but at the cost of his own life. Then the realization hit me – I just killed a child – and in a matter of milliseconds the wave of relief turned into a wave of nausea and guilt.
After a moment of stunned silence, the restaurant erupted in chaos: dozens of adults fainted or vomited at the sight, children cried and screamed as the concerned and horrified manager of the restaurant frantically called 911 on their cell phone – and I was sitting right next to the victim, too startled and shocked at my own actions. It seemed everyone was going mad from the sheer impossibility.
I tried in vain to recall if anything like this really had happened in one of my beloved novels. The distressing scene occurring before my very eyes was consuming my every thought, and the only way to regain my train of thought and my sanity was to return to my bookstore. There was no time to waste, and my mind was drawing an unfortunate blank. Leaving my lunchbox and barely-eaten sandwich on the Formica table, I rushed through the panicking crowd of distressed civilians, out the door, and ignoring all rules of pedestrian safety, across the street to the doors of my shop.
I pulled the keys to my shop from out of my pocket, opened the doors, and slammed them shut. Safety at last. It seemed that in the quiet and peace of my store, I was finally able to regain my thought process. Enjoying the silence, I turned on the lights, bringing my dark store back from the dead and waking my calico cat, Herbert, from his midday slumber on the rug by the cash register. The rows upon familiar rows of bookshelves, arranged in alphabetical order by author, seemed happy to see me; my cat Herbert, however, did not. He meowed to me in a tone that felt as if he were saying something rather accusatory.
And then it hit me. The boy’s blood was still on my hands, and the thing that caused the boy’s demise was haphazardly stuffed into my pocket.
I hurried past the shelves and into the storeroom at the back of the store, where I kept my most valuable possessions in a securely locked cabinet. After placing the mechanism – which was now quite immobile – on a table covered in paperwork, I opened the locked cabinet surreptitiously, pushed aside my first edition of “At The Mountains of Madness,” and pulled out what I can only describe as my most prized possession of all: a centuries-old Japanese katana. I had purchased the sword at an antiques dealer some years ago for security reasons – I’ll be honest, if you were presented with an ancient Oriental weapon that could decapitate a burglar for the low, low price of one hundred and seventy-five dollars and sixty cents plus tax and the resulting guilt that comes with manslaughter, wouldn’t you say yes as well?
I picked up the sword, exited and locked the storeroom, and strode out of the store back into the real world.
When I exited my store, a red-haired woman was waiting for me outside my shop. I recognized her as Ms. Shannon Egans, a frequent customer of my shop and curator at an independent museum of cryptozoology and extraterrestrial studies in Washington DC. Beneath her lion’s mane of long, ginger hair, a look of deep concern was visible on her bespectacled face.
“What’s going on across the street, then?” she asked me, biting her lip worriedly. She scanned me up and down; a look of questioning came across her face at the sight of the sword in my bloodied hand.
“In all honesty I’m not even sure myself,” I replied truthfully, shrugging my shoulders. “All I know for certain is that something is going on and I’m the only one in this town with the power to stop it.”
“No, really, Mr. Groves, you’ve got to tell me something. I’m only in town for a week and I’ve never seen this much commotion in Eldritch Falls. What is going on over there?” Shannon was so up in my face I could feel her breath on my skin.
I sighed. “Well, after doing a bit of thinking – and I mean a bit, like, two seconds – I’ve come to the conclusion that there are things inside Happy Meals that are attacking children and implanting them with tentacles, and the only way to stop these things is to cut their weak spots.”
Shannon gave me a look that can only be described as a combination of “we’ll see about that” and “holy muffins, are you for serious?” Then she stepped away from me, her hair obscuring her face again.
“I see,” she said, almost quietly. “I’ll come by another time, then.”
And she was off, running up the street towards the other end of town.
Weird, I thought to myself, I wasn’t expecting her to be in town, especially at a time like this.
I felt the sword slipping out of my sweaty, blood-stained hands, and I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.
Clutching the sword firmly, I returned to the McDonalds. Upon my arrival, about ten or eleven creatures began shambling towards me at an alarming speed. While I was gone, the rest of the children had been attacked. They were now almost completely enveloped from head to foot in writhing tentacles, save for the mechanisms on their mouths and the weak spots on the backs of their necks. I noticed a small, bloody pile of dead parents and myriad adults behind the approaching horde, and another wave of nausea hit me.
My theory I came up with on the spot was actually right. These children were being attacked by an invasion of alien things. But they were not just being attacked by mysterious mechanisms hiding in plain sight for no good reason other than tentacular fun; they were being used as mobile killing machines by this unearthly, impossible invasion.
Yet I could not just stop and process the immense loss of life in the room. I had to do to these children what I did to the first victim. I knew at that moment that I was not about to commit murder. I was about to save the lives of these innocent children.
I gripped the handle of my sword and concentrated on the monstrosities advancing toward me. Their eyes were soulless, sinister glowing embers peeking out from a mass of endless tentacular appendages.

I vividly remember the squelching, almost eardrum-shattering sound of the children-monsters as my sword cut bloodily through their necks like a hot knife through butter. As heads detached from bodies, mechanisms clattered uselessly onto the blood-spattered floor. A shivering moment of quiet, one final decapitation, and it was over. I sighed with relief and collapsed to the ground, surrounded by mutilated corpses and silent, detached mechanisms.
I woke up the next morning in the psychiatric care ward of the county hospital, my bed surrounded on all sides by the media. Some claimed to be experts on invasions. One man was from the FBI, a handful was from the CIA, and one even claimed to be from M16. (I admit, the accent was convincing.)
I tried to tell my story to them to the best of my ability. After hours of questioning and answering, the media retreated – save for one red-haired woman, who I recognized as Shannon Egans from before. Silent when the media was surrounding me, she alone revealed to me that her son had received one of the mechanisms in the mail – needless to say, her experience was eerily similar to mine. She believed my story word for word, and I believed hers.
After I was released from the hospital, Shannon and I returned to my bookstore, where I agreed to show her the mechanism I harvested from the scene of the invasion. She immediately recognized it as the same one that attacked her son a month before. We agreed to keep in touch in case more sightings were reported, and she left, a fellow witness to the most impossible occurrence either of us could have imagined. We still do not know where they came from, or how they got into the Happy Meals or the delivery.
All we can be sure of is that there is always something out there, something greater and more impossible than anything we have witnessed so far.