The SCP Experience - 41 Crescent Lane | SCP-4662

Episode Date: May 29, 2025

When 11-year-old Billy uncovers his father’s journal and sets out to solve a chilling mystery about a hidden subject, he discovers a horrifying truth: he is one of many versions of himself—children who vanish, return as him, and are doomed to die over and over again. This story was derived from ⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4662 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. ⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠ * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

January 21st, 2019. The manifestation has been obtained and will henceforth remain secluded for the purpose of study. I have been tasked with housing the subject and ensuring its survival while tracking its tendencies. The subject must be released only when supervised and or to observe its natural movements. The subject must be prevented from entering the establishment at 41 Crescent Lane and interacting with any persons therein. If the subject gains unauthorized knowledge, the subject must be amnesticized and rehomed immediately. All information regarding the subject must be shared with the foundation. Billy's eyes widened as he read the first entry in his father's work journal. His dad would

never explain exactly what he did, and frankly, Billy knew little about him. They weren't close like the fathers and sons he read about in his adventure books. So, Billy had finally taken matters into his own hands and stumbled into the forbidden office when he was left home alone. But now he was more confused than ever. His father must work for this foundation, but what exactly did he do for them? What was this manifestation? Who was the subject? But most shocking of all was the fact that the subject lived in their house. He was desperate. to learn more, but just then he heard the sound of the garage door opening. He flipped the journal shut and shoved it back into the drawer, frantically scanning the room

to make sure nothing was out of place. Billy wasn't afraid of his dad, but he was afraid of getting caught in his office. There was no way he was going another week without TV again. Out in the garage, Alan Covington remained oblivious to Billy's disobedience. He hummed a little tune as he gathered the grocery bags and entered the kitchen. Billy, I'm back. Did you finish your schoolwork? Billy sauntered into the room with a guilty look on his face. Alan frowned. I'll take that as a no. Go to your room and get it finished before dinner. Billy didn't dare argue, even though his schoolwork was, in fact, finished.

He laid down on his bed and thought about what he had found in the journal. His dad was working on some kind of top-secret project that Billy wasn't supposed to know about. But Billy, being a curious 11-year-old boy, was determined to find out what it was. And all they had to do was search the house. It was so simple, yet it would be difficult to do with his dad around. And the problem was, his dad was always around. The only time Billy got any privacy was when his dad left to do errands, and he was never gone for more than an hour.

He would have to use his time efficiently then and search smarter not to be. harder. Of course, it would help if he knew what he was looking for. It had to be some kind of creature, something living since his dad was responsible for its survival. But how could another living thing exist in the house without Billy knowing about it? It seemed impossible, yet the journal proved otherwise. He would have thought he could find it in the office, but his short exploration of the space today revealed nothing. It wouldn't be in the living room with the kitchen. That was for sure. It could be in his father's bedroom, but that seemed unlikely too.

That only left? The attic. Billy sat upright as the thought struck him suddenly. Of course, that's where it would be. Billy wasn't allowed in the attic, which usually suited him just fine, as he was afraid of small dark spaces. He'd never had the desire to go up there anyway. But now he would have to.

He would find answers up there. He was sure of it. The stairs creaked under Billy's feet as he snuck up to the attic that night. He paused at the landing with bated breath. When he was sure his father was still asleep, he gently pried the door open. It emitted another creek, and Billy inwardly cringed. But there was still no sound from his father's room. Billy glanced into the darkness.

His heart was pounding in his ears, and he was tempted to turn and run. But he needed to know what was up there. He needed to know what his father was looking after, especially if it might be dangerous. That thought sent a shiver down his spine. He took a deep breath and entered this space, his hand waving through the air to find the cord for the lone bulb. His fingers struck something, and he almost cried out. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. But it wasn't some dark creature he had stumbled upon.

It was the light he was looking for. Feeling rather foolish, Billy pulled the cord, and light filled the room with a dim glow. He listened for any sound, but there was nothing, not even the squeak of a mouse. A quick scan of the attic also revealed nothing but cardboard boxes. Billy forced himself to open the one closest to him, afraid of what he might find. But again, he was out of luck. He sifted through his old clothes, desperate to find something of interest. When that yielded nothing, he moved on to the next box, and the next.

He wasn't even afraid of being in the attic anymore. He was so consumed by his task that the small space didn't bother him. After a while, he wasn't even afraid of encountering the subject the journal mentioned. In fact, he was eager to meet it. The less he found, the more curious. as he became, and all of his fear trickled away. He found a box of Christmas decorations, toys from his childhood, and fancy cups and plates that he'd never seen before.

But that was it. He sighed in frustration and sat on the box containing his old clothes. What if the thing wasn't in the attic at all? But if it wasn't here, where could it be? There was one final box to check, but when the flaps opened, it appeared to be full of old files. It wasn't what he was looking for, but perhaps he would find something worthwhile here. One by one, Billy pulled out the binders filled with paper.

His palms were sweaty with anticipation as he opened the first one. His heart immediately sank to his toes. Tax forms. He checked the next binder. More tax forms. He huffed in frustration. But when he pulled out the final binder, he found loose pages scattered on the bottom of the box.

He picked them up and held them to the light. They were missing child posters. They dated back years, and each one listed an address in Dearborn. One in particular caught Billy's eye, 36 Crescent Plain. Wasn't that on the same street as the address mentioned in his father's journal? Goose bumps erupted on the boy's arms, and he stared at the pages depicting boys' boys and girls who may never have been found. They stared back at him with big, soulful eyes as if begging him to find them.

Sarah Jean Marshall, Ivy Jean, Jack Flacken, Gabe McMillan. The youngest was just five years old, and the oldest was only eight. What happened to these kids? And why did his father keep their posters? It had to be connected to the subject he was studying. There was no other explanation. Was it some sort of creature that kidnapped children? If so, it must have found a way to escape.

So, where was it now? Another thought crossed Billy's mind, and he quickly repacked the box and high-tailed it back down the stairs. When was it coming back? Billy didn't sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a horrible monster with razor-sharp teeth, long talons, and slimy, scaly skin. When he finally began to doze, he dreamed of the monster.

stealing children from their beds and ripping them to shreds in his secret hideaway, which looked suspiciously like the attic. He woke up covered in sweat and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, wondering if he was next. He wanted to ask his father about it, but he knew better. Billy's dad never discussed his work, and if there was some kind of monster in the attic, Billy certainly wasn't supposed to know about it. Yet, Billy would never sleep again until he discovered what

it was. He was terrified of facing the thing, and this fear seemed to have returned tenfold, but even worse was the prospect of never knowing. As the sun began to shine through the curtains, Billy imagined facing off against the beast and killing it, saving all future children from the creature. But the words of his father's journal made it clear that the thing was meant to be kept alive. Why? Why would his father allow such a creature to exist, let alone in their home. There was only one other clue to follow, and Billy planned to do it that night. He was going to 41 Crescent Lane. Alan caught Billy yawning throughout the day and noticed his tired eyes, but he never imagined the reason. If he had any inkling of what was going on in Billy's head,

things would have turned out very differently. But Alan had no idea. He left Billy to do his schoolwork in the kitchen as usual, and retreated to the privacy of his office. The pair spoke few words to each other that day, each lost in their own thoughts. Billy struggled to concentrate on his schoolwork. His mind kept drifting to 41 Crescent Lane, and what he might find there. The day seemed to drag on, but the hour sped up after his father sent him to bed. He suddenly became anxious about his plan. What if his father caught him sneaking out. What if the people at 41 Crescent Lane caught him? What if he found something he could never unsee? He was already scarred by the images of the missing children he found in the attic.

But what if his mission saved more of them from the same fate? He was determined to go, and to go as far as he had to for answers, and to save others if he could. So, in the dead of night when everyone was asleep, Billy put on a sweatshirt, grabbed a flashlight, and began walking to Crescent. lane. It wasn't far from his house, but Billy had never traveled the neighborhood in the middle of the night before. A light mist of rain was falling, and the street lamps were mere blurs of light. Bog was slowly rolling through until Billy could only see a few feet in front of him. His heart was pounding in his chest, and with every step, his brain told him, you shouldn't be doing this. But every time he debated turning back, he saw the eyes of the missing

children. Billy was the only one who could save them, and he was determined to do so. He took a wrong turn somewhere and had to backtrack through the thick fog, which didn't help his anxiety. But after what felt like hours, Billy reached present lane and stood outside number 41. It looked ordinary. Yet, Billy felt a strange pull towards it, almost like he knew the place. Had he been here before? No. Whenever he walked with his father, they always avoided the street. And now Billy would find out why. He snuck through the side gate and into the backyard, his steps lightly crunching on the grass. There was a dim light on inside, the kind you leave on overnight, so you don't trip on

your way to the kitchen or bathroom. Everything else was dark. It was that moment that Billy realized he had no further plan. He was so excited to reach the house that he didn't even though. think about what he would do when he got there. But Billy wasn't the only late-night visitor to No. 41. As Billy stood looking into the house, he heard footsteps. He crouched behind a bush, and gazed frantically around the lawn. The footsteps grew louder until a figure appeared in the mist. Its features were obscured by the darkness, but the size and height clearly indicated it was

a child. Billy gasped. Was the creature here? Had it lured this child here? He was about to call out and warn the boy when the boy stepped right up to the back door of the house and knocked. The lights turned on in the house. He silently begged the boy to turn away. The yard was suddenly flooded with light as well, and Billy blinked against the sudden brightness. When he opened his eyes, he got a good look at the child and immediately wished he hadn't. It was him.

The child was a few years younger, but he looked exactly like Billy had at age eight. his jaw dropped, and he nearly fell out of the bushes. What on earth was going on here? Just then, the back door opened and the child disappeared inside. No words were spoken. Out of all the strange scenarios Billy could think of, none of them explained a child showing up in the dead of night and being let in as if expected, except for one explanation. Whoever let him in must be the monster, which meant that the child was in grave danger, Before he could come up with any kind of plan, Billy was in front of the door, knocking. He braced himself for what was about to appear on the other side.

He held his breath, as it swung open to reveal a man. Just a man. But this couldn't be any ordinary man. For nothing about this situation was ordinary. The man paled at the sight of Billy, and roughly grabbed his arm to yank him inside. The man didn't let go of his arm, but held on to it as he pushed Billy along a hallway. and down a set of stairs. Alarm bells rang in Billy's head.

Armed with only a flashlight, he struggled against the man's grip. The man wrenched the flashlight from his hand and banged him over the head with it. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he could do nothing as the man shoved him down the stairs. A click sounded as the door was closed and locked behind him. Maureen, two in one night? Guess so. When Billy reached the bottom of the stairs, he knew he was. was never leaving that basement alive. The woman was kneeling on the floor with a knife in her

hand. Below her, the child was bleeding out on the carpet. Billy screamed, but he was clearly too late. The woman glanced up at him and frowned. He's a little old, isn't he? The man shrugged. So is our Billy. Maybe they get older like he does. Billy's breath came out in terrified gasps. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or did he say our Billy? A sigh sounded from the floor, and the woman rose to her feet. Are we going to be doing this for the rest of our lives? The man didn't answer. Billy was afraid to draw attention to himself, but he was more confused than ever.

He whispered. Were your parents? The woman answered Dully. Your what? Stop talking, Maureen. This one's old enough to know. Besides, he might have some answers. The man walked up to his wife and gently took the knife from her hand.

Let's just get this over with and go back to bed. Billy frantically shook his head, desperate for more time. No, please. I need to know what's going on. Why are you killing children? And why does that boy look like me? That boy is you. The woman replied. And we don't kill children.

We only killed Billy's. What's that supposed to mean? Enough, Maureen. But Maureen ignored her husband. There was no pity in her gaze, only reluctant acceptance. What does it matter if he knows? He's going to die either way. She continued staring at Billy and took a step closer.

Billy was rooted to the spot. I forgot how inquisitive he was at that age, she said as she drew a finger along his cheek. Billy shuddered at her touch, but forced himself to remain still. Please. He gazed into her big blue eyes, the same as his,

and allowed desperation to seep into his voice. I want to know. What exactly do you want to? want to know. Billy gulped. Everything. The woman smiled as if Billy had given the correct answer. It all started when our son William was born. For God's sake, Maureen. Let me tell him. Her gaze turned cold as she looked at her husband, and he put his hands up in surrender. Okay. Billy had taken a step back and surprise at her outburst, but she stepped closer again and cupped his cheek. Her touch was somehow both revolting,

and comforting. Some part of him wanted to accept it, while another part of him screamed to get away. He did neither. We hadn't planned to have children, but when I found out I was pregnant, I was excited. I thought I could be a better mother than mine was. He was a normal child, and we were normal parents. Her eyes had a faraway look to them, as if she was seeing the past here and now. And then there was an accident. He made me so mad sometimes, and he wouldn't stop one. in that high-pitched voice. One second he was here, and the next he was gone. You killed him?

No! A reply was so sharp and startling that Billy jumped. There was an accident, and he died. It wasn't my fault, but he turned up again the next morning. Despite his fear, Billy was intrigued. What do you mean? We don't know how it happened. We already buried him in the backyard.

We were going to tell people he ran away. But then he came back as if nothing had ever happened. It was my Billy exactly. When we found out about the child who went missing down the road, we never imagined there was a connection. We thought heaven had granted us a second chance. But a few weeks later, another Billy appeared. We couldn't have two, of course, so we had to get rid of him.

You killed him? This time she nodded. I didn't have a choice. But what does this have to do with the missing children? We don't know. Don't you get it? I never asked for this. Do you think I want to keep killing my son over and over again?

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So, these kids turn into me? And they simply ceased to exist? That seems to be the case. The man replied. But then, I'm not the original Billy. None of us are. Correct, he nodded casually, as if Billy's whole life wasn't falling apart. But the subject my dad is studying.

Billy muttered to himself, trying to put all the pieces together. The subject must be released, only one supervised, and or to observe its natural movements. The subject must be prevented from entering the establishment at 41 Crescent Lane and interacting with any persons therein. It's me, he finally concluded. The monster in the attic never existed. He had been looking for himself all along. What did you just say?

The man shoved the woman aside and knelt in front of him. Billy gazed at the knife, fear and confusion creating turmoil in his stomach. The man grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently, causing Billy's teeth to rattle against each other. Where did you come from? My... My dad's house? The man paled.

What is your father's name? Alan. Alan Covington. The man released him as if he'd been burned. All the color drained from his face as he looked at his wife. This one's his. That's why he's older. Billy glanced between his captors, Hope rising in his chest for the first time since he entered the house.

Maybe if they knew about him and knew his father, they wouldn't kill him. He still has to die. The man stated, as if really, beating Billy's thoughts. I knew he shouldn't have said anything. Now he knows too much. No, I won't tell anyone, I promise.

But neither of them would look at him anymore. It has to be done, Maureen. The woman gave a slight nod. I know, she whispered. Billy was shaking now, his tears fell down his cheeks. He'd been so stupid. If only he'd minded his own business and stayed out of his father's office. If only his father were here now,

he'd never realized how much the man meant to him, until he knew he would never say. see him again. Would he ever find out what happened to Billy? The knife was pressed against his neck now. The man refused to look into Billy's eyes. I'm sorry, he said. But just as Billy felt pressure against his skin, a loud bang echoed through the basement. The man jumped away from Billy, his eyes going round. The bang sounded again, and this time it was followed by a roar and a crash. Billy's first thought was that the monster was real after all. But a second later. Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and his father appeared. His face paled as he surveyed

the scene. The dead boy on the ground, the crazed woman in the corner, the man with the knife a few feet from Billy. How dare you touch my son, he said in a low voice. He looked again at the boy bleeding out in the carpet. You said it stopped. I, we... The man looked to his wife for support, but she was speechless as well. How many since you said it stopped? The man made. mumbled something under his breath. How many? Billy's father shouted more loudly than he'd ever heard him before. Six.

Billy, go upstairs. Before Billy could reply, the man spoke again. If you tell the foundation, I'll tell them your Billy knows. He'll be taken away from you. You'll never see him again. Billy shrank from his father's anger, thankful it wasn't directed at him. Not if I can help it, he said. Billy, go upstairs.

He repeated. Billy glanced at the knife still in the man's hand. But when he looked at his father, he wasn't afraid of him. His rage was a better weapon than the knife would be. So, Billy obeyed. Billy and his father never spoke about what happened after that. He never learned what his father did in the basement, though he had his suspicions. When Alan emerged, he hugged Billy to his chest.

I'm sorry! He sobbed. I'm so sorry. What? What's going to happen to me? Billy asked, through his tears. The words from the journal, replaying through his mind.

If the subject gains unauthorized knowledge, the subject must be amnesthetized and rehomed immediately. Nothing, his father pulled back and looked earnestly into his eyes. Nothing is going to happen to you, all right? You are my son. You have always been my son. And you will be my son until the day I die. Do you hear me?

Billy smiled, despite the mixed emotions flowing through him. I hear you, Dad. SCP 4662 is an anomalous phenomenon centered around Arthur and Maureen Porter, in which identical five-year-old copies of their deceased son William randomly manifest within six kilometers of them. Each new instance of William possesses accurate memories of his life and an innate desire to return home, an effect that fades within ten hours.

These manifestations coincide with the disappearance of a local child of similar age, effectively replacing them. The phenomenon first came to the foundation's attention in 2003, and recurred multiple times, each event mirroring the last in detail. Eventually, human remains were discovered buried in the Porter's backyard, each corpse genetically identical to William, matching the ages of missing children and showing signs of homicide. One body, killed in 1996, aligned with the original William Porter,

suggesting the phenomenon may have begun following his death and has continued ever since, creating new Williams at the cost of other children. Fan of soccer, you could assist at a moment historic. You could gain the bion for the final of the Cup of the World of the FIFA 2026 with Visa. It's just to have a card of credit visa BMO for participate. Inscribe you at BMO.com bar-oblic concourse. The reglements of the concourse is applicable.