The SCP Experience - A Dead Man Leaves His Grave | SCP-3114

Episode Date: February 9, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-3114: A Dead Man Leaves His Grave This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3114 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Patrick Guy * * * 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 #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The cemetery isn't a place that most people like to spend their time in. No, a place full of dead bodies isn't heavily frequented, but that is exactly why Andy and I like to go there to hang out. It's quiet, out of the way, and a peaceful spot to laugh a lot and not worry about any other problems. My favorite thing about our local graveyard is just how calm it is. The tombstones stay fixed in their positions. There are no signs of cars passing by.

Even the old trees looming over the place don't seem to be bothered much by the breeze. It's serene in some ways. Andy and I are the only things moving at all, and that's how it should be. For us, it's just nice to make jokes, and ironically talk about life and a place filled with death. Andy runs his hand over one of the gravestone faces, trying to brush away the dirt and grind. to get her better look at the faded name etched into it. It's always been a running joke to find the deceased with the strangest name in the graveyard.

The current dead person in the lead has been a 19th century woman named Deborah Dumpins, but there was always a chance that she could lose the title since there were still plenty of grave markers to check. Warwick, Andy swiped feverishly at the old slate. It either says Worthington or Wessleton. There's always points for alliteration, I say. But I still don't think it's better than good old Debbie Dumpin.

Agreed. He says with a disappointed sigh as he climbs to his feet. He clicks on his lighter and the flame illuminates the growing darkness of sunset for a moment before he breathes out some smoke. Well, we'll just have to keep trying. I've always wondered, do you think any of these ghosts care that we're stopping all over there forever homes? I shrug. I doubt that they care either way.

It's not like they are in a position to say otherwise. Andy cupped a hand over an ear, as if trying to listen for a moment before bursting out into laughter. Yeah, I don't hear any debate. They probably like the company. We really liven up the place. That's a nice thought, even if it's ridiculous. Have you ever thought about where you want to be buried or how?

Andy asks. I do more than I care to admit. I'm still trying to decide whether I want to be cremated in the usual way or have something really memorable like a Viking funeral. Just put me out into a boat, shoot a flaming arrow, and send me on my way. That sounds like something you would want, I say with a laugh. Andy is always so full of life, even when he's talking about his own death. And if I'm still around when you go, I'll be the one to shoot that arrow and set you on fire

if you want. I would be honored. Andy rubs his hands together with a little too much excitement. And how would you want to be laid to rest? Do we have to talk about this right now? It seems like the appropriate place to finally have this conversation, doesn't it? Maybe the appropriate place, but I'm not so sure that it's the appropriate time. The middle of the night isn't a time that I really want to be thinking about those kinds of morbid things. It makes everything creepier. We're walking around the middle of a cemetery. It's perfectly creepy enough for those kinds of conversations.

Maybe Andy has a point. Maybe I'm just being scared about engaging in a thoughtful discussion about the idea of my own mortality. If everything went well in life, I would still be alive for a lot longer, and so would Andy. There was plenty of time to reconsider whatever final choices we discussed today. Just because I pictured my burial one way doesn't mean that it will still be that way when the time comes. Hopefully, decades down the line.

Fine. I know that Andy won't stop hounding me for an answer, so it's better to just give him something. It's not a final decision. It's not something that is set in stone like all of the grave markers around us. Those people had chosen their final resting place. I think I would want something traditional. A simple funeral service and then laid down in a plot beside my family or something. Boring!

Andy Coos. That's what you were going to settle for? You just want to be buried under one of these rocks just like the rest of these people? Look at them. There is no real sense of uniqueness. I'll be dead. What do I care if I don't look unique? We all end up in the same place anyway.

Death doesn't care what we look like or how we are put to rest. All that really matters is that we are dead and gone. Jeez, Andy rolls his eyes. Now who is being morbid. That was a very glum way of saying all of that, when our lives are still so full of opportunity and possibilities. Of course. I try not to be too dark about it, but it's just the truth.

All I'm saying is that no matter how you live your life or plan your funeral arrangements, it's all the same destination, really. Let's change. the topic." Andy says with the clap of his hands. Something brighter, please. Something moves in the corner of my eye.

But Andy and I are the only things that are in the graveyard at this hour. I turn to my right to follow what I saw and my gaze lands on a shape on the other end of the plot. It's a silhouette, a figure, another person. That's unusual. We hang out in that place all the time, and we have never come across anyone at our usual time of night until this specific moment. It's like my brain can't even process it for a second. It can't even comprehend that there would be another person in a cemetery in the dead of night. Whoever it is, they're walking slowly along one of the rows of graves. I tap Andy on the back.

Do you see that? He's as distracted as ever. Do I see what? I take his shoulders and steer his body in the direction I'm looking in. Who the hell is that? What are they doing here? My thoughts exactly, I say. Andy scratches his head. He's just as puzzled as I am, but Andy hates surprises, so he would rather act like it's no big deal, instead of letting himself be caught off guard. I always see right through that routine.

Well, it's a public place. It's weird, yeah, but not impossible. Someone might have decided to visit their dead mom or dad tonight. Yeah. Maybe. It's hard to get a good look at them in the dark. There's definitely a figure walking around in that part of the area. There's no doubt about that. They are moving slowly, and they don't seem to be moving other parts of their body much. They're kind of shuffling forward slowly, but it's hard to make out any real detail at first. They're coming toward us, that much as obvious as we continued to watch in stunned silence. I'm sure it's fine, Andy says with a little

snicker that doesn't quite hide his nervousness. I can't blame him, since I can feel my own body tensing up as we watch the figure continue their approach. It's just awkward to bump into someone at this time of night in the middle of a place like this. A part of me wants to go hide behind one of the taller monuments or mausoleums, but that's ridiculous. It's just paranoia. It's just from smoking too much probably. There's no real logical reason for us to be afraid outside of not knowing who it is. Andy is right, though. It's probably just someone mourning a lost, loved one.

He has just as much right to be rumming the cemetery in the middle of the night as we do. More reason, even, since neither of us have anyone we know buried in this dirt. We are the ones that are probably creepier. Lazzang sur-joled, and the power and 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Prere to play. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo.

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Oh, that also. And profite. Viaray, the voice that we love that we am. The person is getting closer now. Almost close enough to see. Strangely, their figure seems brighter than I would expect from someone in the dark.

It's almost like they are wearing all white, sticking out in the midst of the midst of the middle, sticking out in the midst of all that darkness. But it's still hard to tell. Last chance, Andy whispers next to me. We can still run and hide and avoid this awkward greeting. He puts on a voice that sounds like a jolly British man. Good evening.

We are just here admiring all these dead people for no real reason. Nothing to see here. It'll be fine. Still, something in my gut makes it hard for me to believe my own words. Something feels off. and my body is trying to tell me. The figure comes close enough for us to see, and I freeze. The silhouette standing before us belongs to a figure that is about five feet tall,

but it doesn't look like a person at all, at least not anyone living. It probably looks more like the people that are resting beneath us, the dead in their coffins. The thing in front of us, despite having the shape of a human being, has no flesh at all. And it grins at us with a permanent frozen smile beneath its black, hollowed eye sockets. A skeleton. I couldn't be right.

I have to be imagining it. I have to be seeing things. But when I turn to Andy, he looks just as confused and just as terrified as I do. He slowly looks back at me. His eyes wide and he stammers when he tries to talk. You're seeing this too, right? I want to look back and find that it's just something. someone in some costume. I wanted to be someone playing a twisted joke and just fooling around at a cemetery.

Someone wandering around a graveyard dressed as a skeleton could be funny, but that's not what I'm seeing. That's not what it is. It's not a costume. It's not a prank. There are empty spaces between its ribs. That horrible skull isn't some kind of mask. There aren't any strings puppeteering it. Those bones that make up its shape, that are somehow staying connected as it slowly moves, are all real. I want to run, but it's like my body won't respond. I can't stop staring at the skeleton. My mind races to try to make any sense of it, but there isn't any to be found. It shouldn't be something that's possible, but there it is, standing right in front of us.

What do we do? And he whispers out of the corner of his mouth. I don't know. I doubt there's been anyone that's ever dealt with something like this before. There's no precedent for it. There's just myself, my friend, and a skeleton that walked across the graveyard to get to us. Should we try? Do we try talking to it? It probably couldn't hurt to try to communicate with, whatever it is.

I guess. I'm barely even able to speak. I'm just as breathless as that skeleton. Andy manages to find his courage, shaking his hands. to try to calm himself as he takes a step forward and speaks to it. Good, good evening. Can you understand what I'm saying to you? The skeleton just stares at him. It feels like it stares at him, but it's impossible to tell with those empty eye sockets. Andy tries again, using more hand gestures.

Do you know what I'm saying to you? Can you hear me? That was an interesting question, considering the thing's lack of ears. Maybe it really couldn't hear anything that Andy was saying. The skeleton just keeps facing us. It's hard to look at it because it's something that shouldn't be possible. Like my brain knows that what it's seeing couldn't really be true, and it's trying desperately to fathom its existence, to make any kind of sense of it.

Andy keeps trying. Whatever you are, whatever this is, we're not interested. He turns his attention to the rest of the cemetery, like he expects there to be someone else there. Then he starts shouting. Whoever you are, you had your fun. Nice prank, real spooky. So how does this thing work?

Remotly operated? Marionette strings I'm not seeing? I'd love to hear how you're doing it because it's really convincing. No one responds. No explanation is given. The cemetery remains deadly quiet. The skeleton just keeps standing there,

facing us with that fixed grin. and those hollowed out eye holes. Andy is starting to get a little amused, but it's clear to me that it's just a way to compensate for how scared he really is. He shifts his attention back to the skeleton itself. So that's how it's going to be? We're not scared, and we're not interested in whatever this is.

This is our hangout spot, and we don't want to be bothered. So why don't you just go back to whatever grave you crawled out of, all right? The skeleton suddenly walks forward. with more speed than it initially approached with. It moves without any hesitation at all, with a determined stride right toward Andy. My friend doesn't even have time to react in any way. He doesn't have a chance to run or to try to somehow defend himself when the skeleton raises its frail arms and wraps its bony hands around Andy's neck.

Andy lets out a gasp as the skeleton brings him to the ground, strangling him without a word. Andy's pained face is enough to snap me out of my terrified stupor, long enough to try to help him. It's obvious that the skeleton isn't friendly, and I'm not going to let it hurt my friend. I grab at its shoulders and try to pry it off away from Andy, but it's stronger than it looks. It resists all of my tugging and pulling, barely even seeming to notice me as it keeps its bony fingers around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. Andy can't speak, but I can see him mouthing for help, pleading for me to save him. I hope he knows how hard I'm trying to get that thing off of him, but nothing I do is working. I try a different approach and throw a punch to the side of its cranium.

Its skull gets rocked by the blow, but it still doesn't really seem to care. Maybe it couldn't even feel that. The skeleton wouldn't have any pain receptors after all, but there's no way of really knowing how it operates. All I know is that it shouldn't be able to exist. It shouldn't be able to hurt Andy. But it obviously doesn't obey the law. of nature. It's not going to stop. It needs to let him go. If I can't get it off, that skeleton is going to kill my friend. I hit it again and again in the side of its skull, but it's

not relenting. It just keeps squeezing his throat. Andy's eyes bulge and his face grows blue. He writhes desperately, trying to get it away. He's gasping for air, but not finding any since those skeletal fingers are completely pressing down on his airways. I try a different approach. trying to help pull his hands away from him. I grab hold of those narrow, bony arms and try to heave them away with as much strength as I can muster, but they won't budge. Andy's eyes grow even larger as he chokes out some more sounds

before suddenly he stops, and his arms fall to his side. I look down at my friend and our eyes meet. There's nothing there behind them. It's as if they're almost as empty as the skeletons. Andy! I let out a scream as I make another attempt to get that thing off of him. It finally seems to notice me, but doesn't pay me much attention.

Instead, it finally lets go of Andy's neck and swings one of its arms out, bashing me in the chest. Its strength is unreal as that one blow sends me away. My feet leave the ground, and I'm launched into the air, right toward a plot of graves. My head hits one of the tombstones when the rest of me hits the ground. Everything goes black for a moment. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics.

Let's see what you've got. Sign up for free at rbc trainingground.ca. When I come to a moment later, I hear an awful grinding sound. It's almost like someone is whittling away at a piece of wood mixed with someone chopping meat. It sounds frantic and messy, and it's enough to make my eyes open back up into a hate. crazy world. At first, I just see the silhouette of that monster crouched over Andy, but it's doing something with its hands. Poor Andy, it's doing something horrible to him. Those sharp fingers dig into Andy's flesh. The skeleton stabs into him over and over, digging and peeling away

at the skin and everything that is beneath. I'm a little relieved that Andy was choked to death first. I can't imagine how much that would have hurt to be eviscerated like that. I can't move. I try to get up, but the whole world is upside down. My own skull is pounding while I watch that exposed skull move in ways that it never should be able to. It peels him, completely emptying him of his innards right in front of my eyes, dropping all of the bone and guts into a messy pile. He starts stretching the skin that belonged to my friend. Andy's face is still wide-eyed with the horror and agony he experienced in his final moments.

The skeleton starts to wrap Andy's skin around itself, wearing his outer layer like a hide. That's when a horrifying notion dawns on me. The skeleton is trying to put Andy over itself. He's trying to get within his flesh to give itself new skin. I finally grab hold of the gravestone beside me and use it to pull myself up to my knees. It's a start, but if I don't get myself moving soon, that monster will turn its attention to me and probably pull me inside out too, just like it did to him. I don't want that to happen.

I can't. As much as my head is pulsating, I need to ignore it. That headache, or more likely, concussion, is something that I will be able to recover from. But what happened to Andy is something that I wouldn't be able to ever heal from. When I finally stand on my feet, that thing is looking right at me. And it's looking at me through Andy's skin. it's wearing him like some kind of sick costume.

I see the pile of Andy's insides, a heap of blood, organs, and broken bones. I nearly puke at the side of it. Why? I asked through all of the pain coursing through me. Why are you doing this? What the hell is this? The skeleton is as silent as ever.

I take a step away. That's the only option. I can't fight that thing. I couldn't save Andy, and I won't be able to save myself from it. It's too strong. It's all just too much. I need to run.

The skeleton moves first. It comes at me with the same vigorous speed that it did when it charged Andy. It grabs hold of my neck and slams me up against a tall stone monument behind me. Those hard and sharp talons squeeze my throat, and I immediately feel its pressure coming down on my breath, taking it away.

I punch and flail wildly, trying to do what Andy wasn't able to. but I can't get it off. I'm forced to just stare at what's left of Andy's face. Now, it's just some sick joke, like the skeleton thinks it can be alive again if it just puts on some skin. I don't want to die in this cemetery.

I don't want the skeleton to wear me like it's doing to Andy. I want to keep my skin on my own skeleton and enjoy the rest of my life. It can't end like this. I can't breathe. The thing wearing Andy's face is really going to be the last thing I ever see. Suddenly, dark shapes appear all around us and rush in toward the skeleton.

One of those people tries to tackle the skeleton to the ground, but is thrown off him. Its strength is still so hard to understand, considering it doesn't actually have any muscles. Bring that thing down! One of the men surrounding it hollers. They all start to swarm the skeleton. It finally lets go of me, and my back slides down the tombstone behind me, until my butt hits the ground. I stay slumped where I am, trying to breathe again.

I cough and gasp, feeling how hurt my neck is. But as strained as it all is, at least I can still breathe at all. I watch as those strangers. There must be six of them. All pile up on the skeleton and try to bring it to the ground. It takes all of them to keep it pinned. But then my attention is drawn to a man in a suit that walks past them and comes to me, offering a hand. It looks like you're having a rough night, but this isn't the place for living things to rest.

Come on, let's get you out of here. I hardly believe what I'm seeing, but I take his hand, and he helps me to my feet. Let's take a stroll, shall we? He leads me away from those people struggling with the skeleton and away from Andy's remains, which I appreciate. For a moment, the night feels how it was supposed to feel, just to walk through the graveyard. It's hard not to think about Andy. He didn't deserve any of that. He didn't deserve to die in such a horrible way.

I can't help thinking about his final moments and how I wasn't able to do anything to help him. The man in the business suit feels comfortable to be around, but that's probably just because he saved my life. Coming to the rescue to help someone that is about to be murdered is a great way to immediately endear yourself to someone. There's no way I can repay a complete stranger for what he did for me. My rescuer is a tall, lanky, and gaunt man,

though he still looks much more lively than the thing that attacked us. Do you have a name? I blurt out, still troubling, just looking for anything to take my mind off of everything else. You can call me, Lincoln. Something about the way he says that, makes it clear it's an alias. He's not divulging who he really is.

It's been a very troubling night for you, hasn't it? The man, Lincoln, offers a thin, joyless smile for a second before looking back up to the night sky with a ponderous stare. Yeah, I think troubling would be an understatement. Who are you people? You are saviors. He says before he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

Sorry, that sounded so pompous, didn't it? We are the people that stopped that thing and saved your life. That's all that matters. We don't ask for anything in return. We're just glad to have been able to help and to get that thing someplace where it's not going to continue to be a threat to innocent lives.

That's the important part. I look across the field of tombstones and see the group of people all moving in unison toward the edge of the cemetery. They have that skeleton between them, all dragging it away from where it attacked us. Lincoln seems to catch my wandering stare. What you saw here,

it's not something that you should have ever had to see. I'm just nodding in agreement, and I keep rocking my head back and forth without meaning to, maybe hoping that my acknowledgement will help knock those memories out of my brain or wake me up from this nightmare. Unfortunately, that man is still there and still looking at me with a great deal of concern. What is it? I ask. That thing. That's exactly the kind of thing that we like to figure out, but it takes time. We can't do it. We can't do it. Determine everything about something that's never been seen before without getting a much closer look at it. We're going to put it in a safe place where we will be able to study it and where it won't be able to hurt anyone else.

You mean, you mean people like Andy? I truly am sorry about your friend. He seems genuinely remorseful about that. It's sad that sometimes these things can't be found and contained before someone gets hurt. There's just all kinds of things in this world that are beyond understanding, but that are dangerous once they reveal themselves. That thing was more than dangerous. I tried to hold in my tears and bite back my fear,

but I know that my feelings are very apparent, probably written all over my face. That thing tore him apart and then wore him. The man just nods. I know. And we're going to make sure that it never happens again. I want you to be able to move on with your life. life and forget that this ever happened. Your friend, Andy, died in a horrible accident,

tripped in the cemetery and hit his head on one of the stones. That will be the story. I'm just supposed to move on? That's the only option you have, he says. You can't dwell on this. You can't spend the rest of your life thinking about it. You saw something horrible and something that most people would never believe. If you let that get to you, all you were going to do is drive yourself nuts. It's happened before. People that see things like this,

people let it twist them up inside and go insane from what they've seen. I don't want that to happen to you. I know that this has been traumatic to say the least, but I want you to be able to move forward with some peace of mind. I'm not sure that I can do that. You have to. For your own good.

It's for the best. Nothing will turn out well if you linger on this and can't get past it. Besides, who would believe you if you talked about it? No one but me, the people I work for. And we don't exist as far as the rest of the world goes. No, you have to move on. But I can give you some reassurance that hopefully will be enough to offer some semblance of closure.

Would you like that? I nod. Of course I want some kind of reassurance. Anything to make me feel better about the whole thing. Fair enough. Give my men a few minutes to clean up, and then I'll hopefully be able to ease your mind a little. I wait for about 20 minutes by a tombstone,

just processing everything, or at least, trying to. And I just start sobbing hysterically a couple times from just the raw, raw trauma of it all. Between seeing things that would drive some people to insanity and losing my best friend, the night has turned into an absolute nightmare that I don't seem to be able to escape from, turns. He comes with the same peculiar politeness he arrived with. All right, they're ready for us.

I truly hope that this does put your mind a little at ease. By the end, I hope you will be able to move on with your life and forget about this night. I doubt it, but I follow him toward the edge of the graveyard where a large trailer truck is waiting. The men that attack the skeleton are standing about, all dressed in black. They look like government or military operatives of some kind, but I don't focus too much on that as I follow Lincoln into the back of the open trailer. The inside of it is fairly large, large enough to house a space that looks like a prison cell, with glass acting as a barrier.

The skeleton is walking around inside of that confined space, not really paying us any mind. It's trapped. That's good at least. It isn't wearing Andy's skin anymore, but some of its bones are dyed red with his blood. Lincoln immediately points that out. We took the liberty of... He stops to apparently consider his choice of words. Of removing your friend's remains from this subject. It didn't seem appropriate to leave it on. We will make sure that he is buried as whole as he can be, with all of him accounted for. The thought of all of that sent a wave through my stomach that wanted to come up and be puked out,

but I held it at bay. Every step that the skeleton takes with its bony foot sends a shiver through my own spine. Despite having far more muscles and nerves than the thing walking about, my body can't move. I am absolutely frozen with fear again. Despite not having eyes in those black empty sockets, there still feels like there is something staring back at me. It can see me.

I have no doubt about that. Worst of all, it's thinking. Even without a brain or any neurons, there is something happening in the bowels of that skull. Gears are turning in there, contemplating. It's not just wandering around its cage. It's studying it. almost as if it's trying to find some weak point that it can exploit, a flaw in its confinement that it can use to escape. Thankfully, it hasn't been able to find what it's looking for,

at least not yet. I hate this thing. It's just a weird, macabre reminder of what we really are. Lincoln pinches the skin of his cheek and pulls at it to make his point. Underneath these relatively thin membranes, we're just bone. Nothing more. I don't laugh, and he lets go of his cheek when he doesn't get a reaction. It is peculiar, though, isn't it? We're not supposed to be able to function without all the extra stuff on top. This guy didn't seem to get that memo.

Alas, some things in this world don't like to obey the laws of nature. No, they like to do their own thing instead. The more that Lincoln speaks, the more clear it is that in some strange way, this is normal for him. He's seen things like this before, and is even accustomed to it. All of his dry humor and nonchalant attitude about all of it makes it clear that the skeleton is just the latest

in a long line of strange things that have come across that man's life. While he seems perplexed by that skeleton, he still seems somehow comfortable in its presence. Nothing to worry about. That glass is reinforced. It won't be able to get out. We'll bring it to an even more secure location and go from there with our research.

We'll be leaving soon and putting this town in the rearview mirror. Now remember what I said. You need to be able to move on from this and act like it never happened. Andy took a bad fall. That's all. The thought of that skeleton peeling him and wearing his skin is lodged into the forefront of my brain. It isn't exactly going to be easy to just. forget that it ever happened, or to pretend like he died in a much cleaner tragedy.

How do you know that this is the only one of these? We don't, he said with a shrug. There is a good chance that it's not, but we can't work using chances or what-ifs. We only function in the realm of things that we see and know and have real proof of, and this right here is proof. We know that there is one of these. We will contain it, study it, learn from it. And maybe that will help us if there are any more to deal with.

For now, we know that this one is under control and can't hurt anyone else. And what if it gets out? Lincoln gives a little smile and taps the reinforced glass with his knuckles a few times. The skeleton notices him and suddenly throws itself at him. But it finds the barrier instead. It keeps trying, its bony fingers scratching and clawing at the glass. Lincoln seems pretty satisfied with that, not even flinching as it keeps attempting to attack him,

probably hoping to wear his skin. Our containment units are designed to be able to hold all kinds of things. Things much scarier than this bag of bones. Lincoln turns to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. Are you satisfied? That is a weird question. Of course I'm not satisfied. My best friend is dead,

and I have gotten up close and personal with an animated murderous skeleton. I doubt that I will ever be fine again. I saw death in a much more intimate way, in a way that most people never would. I just nod, even if it's a lie. I don't have a choice. I think I'll be fine.

Good. Just do me a favor. What? No more walking around graveyards in the middle of the night. I walk home, taking the same roads that I took when I went to the cemetery just hours earlier. So much in my life has changed so quickly that it doesn't feel real. I keep hoping that it's not. I spend that stroll down the streets hyper-fixated on the movements of my body.

For the first time in my life, I am experienced. extremely aware of my skeletal structure, about what's underneath all of my skin and muscles. It's probably just my imagination playing tricks on me, but it almost seems like I can feel my bones rattling inside of me more loudly than usual, like they're aching or even preparing. I can't help but feel like my own skeleton is just waiting for a chance to rip itself out of my body and walk free. SCP 3114 is an animate human skeleton. It stands approximately 1.6 meters tall and weighs 30 kilograms. Though it has no articulation or connective tissue, its individual bones remain in place as they would in a human body.

Individual bones can be pulled out of position, but quickly return to their correct position when there is no longer an outside force acting on them. Though SCP 3114 is made of similar, or minerals as human bone, it is much denser and stronger, requiring more than three times as much force to break. A broken bone will mend, though it takes several weeks for a larger bone. There is no current explanation for SCP 3114's ability to move. Its observed range of motion in its joints are similar to a healthy adult females. It is much stronger than a human of comparable

size. It is able to lift at least 250 kilograms with one arm and has a measured grip strength of 270 kilograms. Its maximum observed foot speed is 60 kilometers per hour. SCP 3114 is able to react to visual stimuli with an apparent field of view similar to a humans. However, it does not react to sound or smell. It responds to touch, but it is difficult to test. its sensitivity. It is extremely aggressive and immediately attempts to attack any time it sees a human or other biological humanoid, referred to as targets from here on. When it sees a potential target, SEP 3114 will take the quickest, most direct route it can, only avoiding obstacles it cannot push through. Once it reaches a target, it will latch on with its hands and begin squeezing around the throat.

Once the target has stopped moving, SCP 3114 begins tearing openings in the target's body and pulling out its bones over the course of several hours. Once it has completely removed the target's skeleton, it will attempt to pull the remaining flesh over itself. This tears the flesh into multiple parts. Once the body is no longer in one large piece, it loses interest in it.

When no target is present, SCP 3114 is fairly docile. It explores its enclosure but does not attempt to escape. SCP enrichment objects such as blocks, tires, cardboard boxes, and sticks are provided and replaced at regular intervals. When the lights are turned out for the night, SCP 3114 lays down and becomes motionless. Though it resembles sleep, it is still capable of responding to visual stimuli.