The SCP Experience - Arachnid Infestation | SCP-632

Episode Date: November 19, 2021

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-632: Arachnid Infestation. Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-632, 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. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The missed call was from my sister, Gina. It was nearly two in the morning, and the fact that she was calling me at this hour told me something was wrong. I unlocked the phone to call her back when a text came through. I can't stop the spiders, the message said. I snorted briefly, thinking it must be some kind of joke. But then another text came through. The headaches are unbearable. I can barely type.

Ever since Gina had come back from visiting a college friend in China, she had been experiencing headaches. They'd been getting progressively worse, apparently. I told her to see a doctor more times than I could count, but she was between jobs and didn't have health insurance. She didn't want to spend a few hundred dollars on a bunch of tests if it was only headaches. I couldn't talk her into doing something she didn't want to do. She was my younger sister, but she was even more stubborn than me. Maybe now you'll go, I thought to myself as I read the second text.

I hit the little phone icon next to her name and put the device to my ear. Gina picked up immediately. Lane, I need help, she said without preamble. You ready to go to the doctor? I asked. Yes. She said, sounding utterly miserable. Good. Can you drive? No way. Out of the question.

Okay, well, I'll head over to you. A knocking sound came through the phone, stopping me mid-sentence. I listened, wondering what it was. was. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Gina, what's that noise? It's nothing. I'll try to make it until you get here, she said. It will take me about 45 minutes, even at this time of night. I know, Gina said. For the first time, I started to really worry. She sounded on the verge of tears. Okay, I said, leaving now, hang in there. I threw on a sweatshirt, slipped my feet into some sandals, grabbed my keys, and was out the door before I thought of her first message about the spiders.

What was that about? As I drove over to her house all the way on the other side of town, I thought about something else she'd said. I'll try to make it until you get here. It didn't strike me as strange when she said it, but as I drove, the early morning darkness pressing up against my car, it bothered me more and more. Try to make it?

What did that mean? I kept glancing down at my phone as I drove. My only company on the road is smattering of vehicles. I didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that she hadn't messaged me again. By the time I arrived at her apartment, I had convinced myself that something was seriously wrong, and the fact that she wasn't answering her door supported that theory. I stood at her door and knocked again, this time a little louder.

I waited, listening hard for any movement inside. Nothing. I knocked harder, cursing myself for leaving her spare key back at my apartment. I hadn't even thought about bringing it. Still nothing. I banged on the door and shouted her name, pleading with her to open up. With shaking hands, I got my phone out and called her. I could just barely hear her phone's ringtone through the door.

I imagined her passed out on the floor, having her shaking. hitting hit her head on something, dying slowly because I forgot her damn key. I started banging on her door, more out of desperation than anything else. Hey! A voice shouted, a woman's voice. What are you doing? You know what time it is? I spun around to see a woman in pajamas, peeking her head out of the apartment door opposite my sisters. Do you know my sister Gina? I ask. Yeah, of course I do. She's my neighbor, after all. You're her brother? Yes. There's something wrong. I'm here to take her to the hospital, but she's not answering. Please tell me you have a spare key for her apartment. I do, the woman said. The anger on her face now replaced by worry. I watered

her plants while she was in China. Hold on. I called 911 while the neighbor was getting the key. Since I didn't know what exactly was wrong, the operator wanted me to stay on the line until I got into the apartment. The neighbor appeared with a set of keys in her hand, and I told the operator to hold on while we went inside. The neighbor slid the key into the lock and then stopped. She turned to look at me. What's your name? My name is Lane, I said, spitting the words at her. She was wasting time. The neighbor nodded as if that checked out, as if the thought had occurred to her that I wasn't actually Gina's brother and was trying to get into her apartment for some nefarious reason. Maybe she'd heard Gina talk about me before. It didn't matter. What mattered was getting into the

apartment to see what was wrong. Rachel, the neighbor said, as if this were the best time to be exchanging pleasantries. Before I could urge her on, she unlocked and opened the door. I rushed past her and into the living room. It was empty. I headed back to the bedroom and found that it, too, was empty. I'd passed the bathroom door on the way down the hall to another bedroom, and it dawned on me that the door was closed and there was a line of light underneath it. I knocked on the door and called out my sister's name, no answer. I turned the door handle and eased the door open. The first thing I saw was the splash of crimson, standing out against the off-white color of porcelain countertop. There was a large

pool of blood next to the sink, near the edge of the countertop. There were also splashes of blood in the sink, on the faucet, on the makeup bottles, and even on the mirror. My throat thickened, and my chest started heaving as I moved further into the bathroom, revealing more of the bloody mess. I stuck my head around the door and looked down. I could do nothing but cry out, the sound like nothing I've made before or since. Gina lay sprawled on the bathroom floor. Her forehead half smashed in and half split open. Her eyes pointed in different directions, and the damage to her forehead had changed her appearance drastically by changing the structure of her skull. The blood on her face had bits of bone and grayish blobs that I could only assume

were her brains. I thought I saw something very small move in the bathroom, just inside my peripheral vision. But the scene before me took all precedence. A bug in the bathroom didn't even register at the time, no matter how much I wish it had now. I pushed back from the half-open door, sending myself banging into the hallway wall. I still had my phone in my right hand, and I could hear the faint voice of the 911 operator trying to get my attention. I paid her no mind. Rachel, who had been standing just inside the apartment door watching my search, ran up to me babbling excitedly. She stepped toward the bathroom door, but I yelled at her to stop.

Get away! I yelled. She's dead. Somehow it didn't seem right to let her see my sister like that. Rachel flinched back at my voice and then seemed to snap out of whatever shock-induced trance she was in. She pointed at my phone. I held it up for her and she took it, speaking to the operator while I saw. sat in my sorrow. The rest of the night passed in a blur of paramedics and police officers and

questions and condolences and calls to my parents who had moved to the other side of the country for retirement. Thinking back on that night now, I can remember hearing several mentions of spiders. One of the paramedics said something about spiders in the bathroom. One of the police officers said something about a spider infestation in the apartment. Neither comment raised any flags at the time. I'd forgotten all about my sister's strange text about the arachnids. I remember focusing mostly on how my sister could have fallen hard enough to bash her own forehead in. It didn't seem possible. I tried to question the police about it, but they just told me to wait for the investigation to be done. A week later, I was back at my sister's apartment.

It was the first time I'd been back. I'd come to help my parents pack up her stuff, but I'd I couldn't make it through the door without breaking down and crying. So my parents had done most of the work. The apartment was nearly empty, and I was going to clean up a few odds and ends to get the place ready for whoever would move it next. I was cleaning out the fridge when I heard a sound from the front door. It was close to the sound of knocking, but not quite.

I walked to the front door and opened it. Rachel stumbled forward, as if she'd been resting her head on. the door when I opened it. I kept her from falling down. She looked pale. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there was a bright pink spot right in the middle of her forehead. Rachel? Are you okay? Lane, she said, her voice hoarse. Did they find out how Gina died? I shook my head. No, not yet. I guess it takes a little while. Rachel's face broke into a tortured grimace, tears spilled out of her eyes.

Something's wrong, she said. The spiders, they won't leave me alone. Spiders? What are you talking about? Rachel shook her head and turned away from me, stepping to the wall in the entryway. She smacked her forehead into the wall twice before I stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Stop! What are you doing? It's the only way the headache, stop. She said, shaking me off and stumbling back out the door. I watched her disappear, back into her apartment across the way. A sick feeling took hold in my gut. I suddenly remembered Gina's text about the spiders and her terrible headaches and the knocking sound when I was on the phone with her. I thought about my mom and dad who were supposed to meet me at Gina's apartment,

but they canceled because they both had been having horrible headaches. And I remembered the look of the bathroom, the pool of blood on the counter, the blood splashes, the wreck of Gina's forehead. A terrible, resonating, banging sound emanated from Rachel's apartment. I ran across to Rachel's door and tried opening it, only to find it was locked. Rachel, open the door. I'll take you to a hospital. Please, just open the door. Thunk, thunk, I took a step back and kicked the door, putting all the force of my weight into my heel. It moved, but barely. I stepped back again and kicked the door open. Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk. Thunk.

sickening sound continued. I kicked the door a third and a fourth time. On the fifth, it finally came open. I ran into the apartment just in time to see Rachel slam her bloody head into her kitchen counter. The sound of her skull giving way seemed to echo endlessly in the apartment. She fell to the floor in her kitchen and came to rest with her smashed head and lifeless face turned to me. I watched in horror as a hundred or more little gray spiders crawled out of the blood and brain matter, sitting inside her skull. I moved away, backing out of the apartment, as the spiders spread out and disappeared into unseen places. As I stepped out of Rachel's apartment, I heard a knocking sound. I paused, listening. It was coming from the floor above. Thunk. Another insistent knocking

noise started up, joining the first. Thunk. Then another, and another, and another. a type of arachnid that reproduces by exposing a human host to an array of sensory triggers. Such triggers include the visual patterns on SCP 632's abdomen, the tactile sensation produced by them crawling on human skin, and several as yet unidentified chemical compounds released by mature spiders. As SCP 632 manifestation progresses, affected individuals will experience gradual thinning of the anterior brain lining and skull as bone, muscle, and fat tissue is gradually incorporated into the filament-like structures in the frontal cortex. Six to seven days following initial exposure, headaches experienced by affected individuals will increase sharply

in intensity and duration. Affected individuals at this point tend to apply increasing amounts of force to their foreheads in order to release enough endorphins to reduce the pain, to tolerable levels. Eventually, most affected individuals end up fracturing their own skulls through accidental application of excessive force. At which point, 80 to 200 instances of SCP 632 will exit the brain from the weakened point in the forehead. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-moyance-moyance-moyen for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Prere to play?

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