The SCP Experience - Basement of [REDACTED] Hospital | SCP-022

Episode Date: April 29, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-022: Basement of [REDACTED] Hospital This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-022, 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 #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Is it on? Should I start? I'm what's known as an urban explorer. That's why I was there. Kyle and I make a living from sneaking into cool, old buildings. We film what we see, edit the footage, and post it online. We weren't there to, we didn't expect. We just make videos.

I don't know if you saw that video of those two guys. It went viral a few years back. The one where they broke into an abandoned cathedral in the the UK, that was us. It's still our best performing video to date. We gained something stupid like 10,000 subscribers overnight. Don't get me wrong. We'd made plenty of popular videos before, but that one? It put us on the map. Kyle and I really made a name for ourselves as urban explorers after that video. The problem with fame and success, though, once you've tasted it, you're always looking for more. It's addictive. How do you do you do you do you?

top and abandoned cathedral, right? Where do you explore next? I usually leave that up to Kyle. He's the ideas man. Kyle and I go way back. We were on the same photography course together at university. We teamed up to take photos of dilapidated buildings in our university town. The outside of shops that had closed down after the recession, a tire factory that burnt down a decade before, things like that. After we graduated, we continued hanging out. But instead of taking photos, we started shooting film. And instead of shooting the outsides, we started breaking in. I remember this one time.

We snuck into an old council building in North London. From the outside, it looked like a cinder block, lifeless gray walls lined with lifeless gray windows. We were convinced the place would be full of asbestos. But the inside was like a 19th century mansion, marble stairs with a cast iron handrail, Oak floors, molded ceilings, the works. Two floors, all hours to explore.

Ours, and the security guard. And his German shepherd. I don't know how we missed the signs that the place was patrolled by security. They were clearly plastered outside, but yet somehow we still didn't see them. We'd made our way through the ground and first floor rooms, filming segments for the channel. The security man must have heard us. We weren't exactly quiet about it.

Considering the interior of the building was made of such nice material, he probably thought we were thieves. On the first floor, we decided to break our cardinal rule, never split up. I went one way, and Kyle went the other. I opened a door to my left and found myself in an old staff room, a kitchenette in one corner, and a dining table in the center, still surrounded by the old chairs. A staff notice board caught my attention.

All the notices and reminders were still pinned up. I remember it was deathly quiet as I flicked through the aged yellow paper. And then I heard a scream. Kyle's scream. I grabbed my bag and ran to the door. I opened it. And there in the corridor was Kyle face to face with the securities German shepherd. The security guard was nowhere to be seen.

I remember making a half-assed attempt at calming the door. dog. Good doggy. No reason to get mad. You're a good boy, aren't you? As if it was my sister's Spaniel. Kyle was frozen to the spot. I told him he had to come towards me, and we would climb out the window in the staff room. He started walking very slowly in my direction. The dog snarled and growled, the skin of its mouth peeling back to reveal two rows of sharp teeth. It was terrifying. Kyle managed to shuffle his way slowly and quietly towards me in the staff room. Once he was safely in my reach, I grabbed his wrist, pulled him through the door, and slammed it shut behind us.

As we opened the window in the staff room, we could hear the dog barking and scratching at the door. We were fine, and we laugh about it now. But I'll never forget the scream Kyle made on making eye contact with the dog. I've never heard anything like it until last night. We've had a lot of good times, and Kyle. When Kyle got married, I was his best man. I remember he chose a rose gold wedding band. What dude chooses a rose gold wedding band? Anyway, the 10-year anniversary of our YouTube channel is this

year, and we wanted to do something big, something impressive, something that would top the last viral video. Kyle suggested this abandoned hospital he'd read about online. He said it's been closed down since the 80s, and no one really knows why, but there's a lot of conspiracy theories surrounding it. He explained that everyone who has ever been inside has not come out alive. And if they did, they went mad. I mean, that's a pretty great angle. Legends and myths surrounding a building bring in the audience, get them hooked on the story. So it was settled, the abandoned hospital with a history of disappearances, and the threat of madness.

We packed all the regular gear, a body cam for each of us, the phones we use for filming, charging banks, a couple of small tripods, a bolt cutter, and head torches. We don't take anything we can't fit in our backpacks. If we get into trouble for trespassing, we need to get out quickly without leaving expensive equipment behind. The GPS told us we were almost there. We pulled off the main road and down a country lane. The hedges of both sides obscured our view of the rolling British countryside. The hedge grows were so overgrown, we overshot our next turn. I reversed back up the single-track lane until we found a gap in the bushes, barely visible from the road. I parked and got out to investigate. In amongst the leaves was a rickety

wooden gate, so well concealed, it was almost as if it was hidden on purpose. Not the grand entrance we'd been expecting. I asked Kyle to double-check we were in the right place. We were. I pulled back the hawthorn branches as best I could and pushed open the gate enough for Kyle to drive through. It wasn't until I got back in the car that I noticed the gravel track in front of us. It was old and disused, covered in leaves and fallen branches, but unmistakably erode. Leading to where we couldn't tell yet, but it was lined either side by a row of cherry trees, their spring blossoms in full pink bloom. I remember thinking how beautiful it looked, but also surprising considering how invisible it was from the main road.

I turned on my body cam as we began our slow drive up the gravel avenue. Soon, creeping over the horizon, we saw it. The hospital. It was an impressive building made from light gray stone. Its tall clock tower stood prominently in the center, with the main entrance to the hospital at its base. On either side were two large wings, each with three stories. Most of the windows were boarded up, which isn't unusual for an abandoned building. What was unusual was the chain-link fence surrounding the place.

We parked the car, making sure to turn around and face the way we came. We had learnt from past experience that setting yourself up for a quick getaway is always a good idea. The fence was big, considerably taller than what we were. usually see. And as Kyle and I aren't spring chickens anymore, climbing over was out of the question. I retrieved the bolt cutters from my backpack. Once through the hole, we started checking for safe entry points. We're used to entering condemned buildings, but we're not vandals. Getting in and out with minimal damage is the ideal situation. As I said before, most of the windows were boarded up, but eventually we found one on the ground floor that gave us access. The wooden sheet

covering the window had long since disappeared, and the pain of glass behind it was broken, broken from the inside out. The shards of glass crunched beneath our feet. We looked at one another. Squatters? Most likely, agreed Kyle. We set up the tripod and began filming. We both had parts to play, on-screen personalities, if you like. I'm the one who plays pranks and messes about. Kyle is the serious one. Filling the audience. in on the history and getting scared if something is unusual or spooky. We went back and forth with our usual on-camera banter, me cracking jokes about a demon trying to escape the haunted hospital,

and Kyle reassuring our viewers that it was likely bored teenagers or squatters. After we finished, it was time to venture inside. I used my elbow to further break off any glass that lined the edges of the window frame. We climbed through. one after the other. Our point of entry was a long corridor that ran from the front to the back of the hospital. External windows ran along one side,

whilst door after door lined the other, presumably to various rooms and facilities. The corridor was long and virtually empty. I had expected to see wheelchairs and gurneys ditched and forgotten about, but there was nothing except a few chairs for waiting patients. The walls, although flaking, were in decent condition, the lurid green paint unmarked by vandals or graffiti. We ventured into maybe ten rooms along that corridor. Each one served a different purpose in the hospital's past, a bathroom with a winch for helping elderly patients climb in and out of the tub,

an administration room full of partitions, empty wards with unmade beds behind polyester curtains. Each room was different to the last, but they all had to be. had one thing in common, how eerily neat and tidy they were. If it wasn't for the dust, this hospital could have closed down yesterday. As we walked up the corridor and turned left into the belly of the hospital, the daylight faded behind us. Not quite dark enough for torches, we carefully navigated our way through the labyrinth of hallways. In front of us, a large double door swung back and forth as though someone, just ahead of us, had passed through We stood for a moment and let the swinging doors come to a natural stop.

Probably just the wind, I suggested. Although both of us knew there had been no breeze. I opened the double doors and listened. There were no footsteps, no noises to indicate anyone else was present. Shall we split up? I asked. And break our cardinal rule? laughed Kyle. I explained the hospital was huge.

We'd get more footage if we split up now, before the light was completely gone. My real motive was to set up Kyle for a jump scare. I'd let him go explore, call his mobile, and ask him to meet me somewhere in the building. When he walked in, I'd hide in a cupboard or under a bed. Kyle chose a door marked Morg. He opened the door and descended down a set of stairs into the basement. I chose to further investigate the ground floor. The next room I entered was covered in a black, ashy substance.

Dirty, filthy. Every desk, chair, and bed was covered in soot. So different from the other rooms we had explored. It smelled as though there had recently been a fire, but there was no evidence of anything being burnt. No smoke, no heat, just ash. Our earlier jokes about squatters seemed less amusing now. I thought of Kyle, a little.

in the morgue. I took out my phone and called him, and the same message repeated back to me. I took a deep breath and looked around the squalid room. My eyes rested on something shiny amongst a pile of ash on the floor. I crouched down and blew away the flakes of dirt. A ring. A rose gold wedding ring. My chest tightened. Kyle! I ran from the room, back up the hallway, and through the door marked morgue. It felt as though my feet barely touched the stairs as I bounded down them. I called out for Kyle, hoping, praying he was there.

I opened the door with force. The slam of it against the wall echoed across the dirty white tiles. The morgue was empty. I took two steps into the room. I scanned my surroundings for any sign that Kyle had been there. Nothing. Maybe he had changed his mind and returned upstairs. My hand was on the doorknob,

About to leave and head back to the floor above, when behind me I heard a click, the creaking of an old door opening, and the sound of metal dragging across metal. I turned. A door on the mortuary freezer was open. The metal drawer pulled out, and upon its stainless steel slab lay something unseen under a white sheet. Good job, bud. You got me good. I was freaking out back there. Okay, Kyle, I get it. The joke's over. Dude, it's not funny anymore. Get up.

Exasperated and ready to go home, I pulled back the white sheet to reveal an indescribable horror, the decaying body of an undead man. His gray lips parted to reveal his gray, receding gums. He tried to speak, but thick, black fluid bubbled and gurgled in his putrid mouth. It spilled over and pulled in the cavities of his collarbone.

His undead eyes blinked. I stared at him in abject horror, unable to move. When he reached out and grabbed my wrist, I tried to pull away but the thing held on tighter still. I stood for what seemed like an eternity, locked in a stalemate with the rotting corpse. Its breathing grew faster and more labored. It let go of my wrist and started grasping at its own throat and chest,

convulsing, as if gasping for air until eventually it stopped. The cadaver lay motionless. Without a second thought, I pushed the door back into the freezer, closing the metal door behind it. I stood with my back against it, as if the thing might try to break loose once more. The smell of burning filled my nostrils. I slumped down to the floor, back against the freezers, heart pounding in my chest. What had I just seen? Time passed.

I couldn't tell you how long, but then I heard a knocking sound. I scrambled on my hands and knees away from the freezers. Surely that grossly malformed being was not still alive? The knocking, although coming from a freezer drawer, was different from the one I had shut. The knocking continued, and then the muffled voice of a person. My mind shifted back to reality. Kyle, if he were here, maybe he encountered the undead too. Maybe he had locked himself in a drawer to escape.

I got to my hands and feet, pressed my ear against the first. freezer until I found the knocking, opened the door, and pulled out the drawer. A body sat, bolt upright. It turned its head towards me and bared its teeth. It wasn't aggressive like a snarl, more like a distorted smile. I stumbled backwards and fell. The cadaver swung its legs off the table, and with an unsteady gait, it shuffled towards me. I cried out for it not to come any closer. I begged it to leave me alone, but onward it lumbered. You have to know that I did. You have to know that I I didn't want to hurt it. I didn't want it to end like this, but I did not want to die.

The beast was close now, close enough to grab me. I had to make the first move. I managed to stand, but I was backed into a corner, nowhere to run. I bawled my fingers into a fist and landed my first punch in its stomach. Fowl-smelling bile, the consistency of conchilled blood spat from its mouth, covering my face and clothes. stumbled back, doubled over, clutching its stomach. I grabbed its head with both my hands and thrust my knee into its face. I heard the crack of bone, but I didn't care. If this thing had taken Kyle, these were the last steps it would ever take. The beast stood up, uneasy on its feet.

I took a deep breath and ran straight for it. My shoulder barged into its colossal chest and managed to knock it off balance. It went down with a thud. With my legs on either side of the body, I used my weight to hold it down while I punched its face again and again. Its nose was now a bloody hole amongst concave cheeks and flaps of leathery flesh. I administered one final blow and a human scream. The scream I heard from my best friend, the night he came face to face with the dog. It was the scream of Kyle. But the body wasn't his.

It couldn't have been him, right? It wasn't him. It wasn't him. I remember rolling off the body and onto the floor. My heart was beating loudly in my ear, and the room was spinning. The edges of my vision began to go dark, but I remember. I remember the door to the morgue opening, and people in white suits. I tried to tell them what happened, but everything went black.

I didn't know it was Kyle. I want to leave. I've got to go back for him. Who are you people anyway? What exactly is the foundation? I just want to go home. SCP-22 is a morgue in the basement of a hospital in the United Kingdom. Until the 1980s, there were no reported anomalous occurrences within the morgue.

The area was quarantined by the foundation, with an official story being released that the entire building had been condemned. The reason for the sudden manifestation of its strange properties remains under investigation. Periodically, a random drawer within the morgue will open to reveal a cadaver under a covered. sheet. The cadaver will animate and attempt to leave the morgue. In some cases, the cadaver will be too damaged or decomposed, successfully exit, or even rise from the table. Should an instance of a cadaver expire while remaining on the table, the table slides back into the drawer, which then shuts. Reports indicate that the scent of burnt tissue is evident immediately following such an event. A pile of matter was discovered on the floor of the room directly above the morgue.

It appeared to contain all matter that had been sent into the morgue, with the exception of human remains. Materials found in the room consisted mostly of metallic components, such as rings, watches, and dental fillings. Reports also state that some cadavers are capable of communication, and interviews with these anomalies have shown signs that the body of the cadavers do not match the consciousness of those inhabiting them. Lasagne sur-goled, puissance-molyne,

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