The SCP Experience - Cat Lure | SCP-1305

Episode Date: July 22, 2024

SCP Foundation DRYGIONI class object, SCP-1305 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1305 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Andrew E. * * * 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

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on the machine-a-sou B'Bas Bonanza. Depos Minimimimum of 10 dollars. Veillage me in a way to be responsible. The conditions apply. It was late summer when I first noticed that something was wrong. When your job requires you to walk the same path, day in and day out, you get used to people's routines.

You learn whose kids play outside and at what time. Which neighbors like to have a quick chat with their mailman and which prefer to be left alone. You know who's home by the cars in their driveway, and who has a pet, and who doesn't. My route has a particular hum and rhythm that I'm used to, so I can sense when the beats off. I walked up to the Miller's house and was struck by an odd sensation. Something was missing.

I couldn't shake the feeling as I walked up to deliver their usual collection of fashion magazines and spam credit card offers. Mrs. Miller happened to be coming out as I was placing the letters in the box. Oh, that was it! We sometimes crossed paths when she was heading out to walk the family dog, Shadow. He was an older Rottweiler, maybe 11, whose fur had become more gray than black, and he always greeted me with a half bark, like he wanted the family to know I was there, but couldn't be bothered to raise a ruckus about it. I hadn't heard him as I walked by, and I could see Mrs. Miller didn't have him either.

Hey there, Mrs. Miller, where's Shadow? She gave me a tight, tired smile and said, Oh, he ran away from home a few days ago. A 12-year-old dog had run away from home? That was odd in and of itself. Shadow hadn't seemed the type to go sprinting off into the neighborhood chasing cars. Well, shoot, Mrs. Miller, I'm real sorry to hear that. Do you know what happened?

She shook her head. No. I could have sworn he was just out in the yard, barking at something. But the next time I looked, he was gone. We've been looking for him, but... She shrugged. The kids have been inconsolable. Mrs. Miller didn't look much better herself.

Her eyes were watery, and her lips had trembled as she spoke, and no wonder. The good boy had been a member of the family for more than a decade. I wanted to do something to help. I can imagine. Hey, do you have a picture of him? She frowned and said, Well, in the house, why? I figure I can ask around while I'm on my route, you know.

I can show a picture of him and ask if anyone's seen him. She instantly brightened and dashed back into her house. She came back out with one of her kids in tow. I was almost sure his name was Mason. The boy was maybe six, and he was holding a photograph in both hands. He shyly held it out to me, and, when I grabbed it, he retreated behind his mother's legs. The photo was of Mason and Shadow sitting on the front porch. They both looked so happy.

It really broke my heart to think that this nice family was missing their dog. Thanks, Alaska Round, I said. I'd probably finish my mail route late, but it would be a small price to pay if it helped bring Shadow home. After a profuse amount of gratitude from Mrs. Miller, I waved them both goodbye and walked down their driveway. Thank you. I turned to see Mason waving at me. I waved back with a smile. I asked around.

but I didn't have much luck. Miss Elizabeth, a kind old lady who usually gave me a cookie, lemonade, or both whenever I passed by with a letter for her, knew the dog and the family, but hadn't seen Shadow. I managed to flag down Mr. Anderson. A young man always dressed in a suit who never gave me more than a nod, but he just said, Haven't seen him.

And shut the door. That was the story everywhere. No one seemed to know where Shadow had gone. I kept my eyes and ears open, but all I heard was a cat meowing loudly. It pained me to think it, but he was a very old dog. Maybe Shadow had simply found a quiet place to lie down for the final time. A few weeks later, I returned the photo to Mrs. Miller. She thanked me and smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

It was sad, but I'd done all I could. Miss Elizabeth was sitting on her front porch in a rocking chair. On the table next to her were two full glasses of lemonade with ice. Hello there, Miss Elizabeth. She shook her head. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Mary, Derek? I laughed and indulged her. Mary, then. How are you?

She rocked back and forth, while I helped myself to a gulp of lemonade. So, so, she said. I haven't been sleeping too well. Oh? Why not? There's a cat that comes by my window at night. and just meows and meows for hours. Huh.

Are you sure it's a cat? Mary frowned at me. You think I'm a fool? I know a cat when I see one. I held up my hands and apologized. I heard yowls and meows on my route lately myself. But I'd figured a family of foxes or coyotes had moved in. I had to get going, so I wished Mary a good evening and continued on.

I noticed that the Richardson kids, Claire and Alice, weren't. playing in the yard as usual. Actually, I hadn't seen Mr. and Mrs. Richardson in a while either now that I thought of it. Their mail was starting to pile up. Well, they were probably on vacation. It was that time of year, after all. As I was standing outside their light blue house, which was surrounded by a picturesque white picket fence, I heard a rustling from their immaculately manicured shrubs. Oh, hey there, little guy. Where did you come from? Just inside the fence's perimeter sat a calico cat. It didn't have a collar, but its coat was clean and obviously well-groomed.

Once it noticed that I was staring at it, it immediately started yowling. Okay, yeah, this had to be the cat Mary had been talking about. Was it in pain? I couldn't see any injuries. Nothing from the tops of its ears down to the tips of its... Huh, where did its tail end? It seemed far too long, extending several feet into the dark undergrowth of the shrubs, far enough that I lost track of it in the gloom.

Its color shifted from white, brown, and black patches to solid black the further into the bushes it went. All the while the cat was meowing and meowing at me. Something about it made me shiver. As a mailman, you got good at knowing which pets looked mean but were the softest at heart, and which should be avoided at all costs. Some would leave you alone if you gave them a treat, while others would try to claw at your face no matter how nice you were to them. Something deep in my bones told me to keep my distance from this cat.

I turned around and kept walking. When I drew up enough courage to glance back, the cat was gone. A week had gone by since I'd seen that cat, and something was definitely wrong. The harmony of my route was completely off. The kids weren't outside. The dogs weren't barking. Hell, even the birds didn't seem to chirp much anymore.

And all across my route, mailboxes were getting more and more full. Every time I opened a lid, letters, magazines, and postcards threatened to spill out. Wasn't anyone picking up their mail? Had everyone gone on vacation simultaneously? The feeling it gave me was hard to describe. Like, nighttime is creepy, right? It can be beautiful. in a haunting sort of way.

But when you're alone and the streets are dark and empty, and the moon is out, and every little snap of a branch makes you feel like something is watching you from the bushes, yeah, that's freaking creepy. All of that, but in broad daylight is something else. A kind of frightening, I can't even name. The wrongness of it overwhelmed everything else, sending a chill down my spine with every letter delivered.

And ever since that encounter with the cat, I got the feeling that something was watching me, following my steps. Miss Elizabeth, or Mary, wasn't waiting for me on her front porch like she usually was. Where on earth was everyone? Mary never missed an opportunity to chat with me. And if she had to go to a doctor's appointment or something, she let me know a week ahead of time and reminded me every day in between. There was no way she'd forgotten or decided not to come out.

Mary? I called as I approached her house with a fistful of the medical bills and letters from the government, presumably about Medicare benefits and her Social Security money. There was no answer. I placed the letters in her mailbox and noted that it was empty. Okay. She had been there at least yesterday. Mary?

I called out again, this time knocking on her door. The mysterious deadness of the neighborhood aside, I was just worried for her general. Mary was an older woman, and though she wasn't exactly frail, she lived alone and had little support from her family, who rarely visited. I was worried about her. I tried her door and found that it was unlocked, not unusual for the suburbs, though it still made me nervous somehow. Mary, it's Derek, I said. If you can hear me, say something or make a noise. The house was more stylishly decorated than I would have guessed. It had a few quills. It had a few quillings. here and there, yes. But the couch in her sitting room was a nice white leather one, and she had

a rather large wall-mounted television as well. Maybe one of her sons had bought it for her. She'd told me one was a lawyer, and the other worked in banking. Even though there was apparently no one home to bother, I still took slow, soft steps towards the kitchen. The floor was white linoleum, and the walls were decorated with floral wallpaper. On the small, round kitchen table that looked like it couldn't sit four comfortably, there stood a pitcher filled with lemonade. There was ice, lemon rinds, and probably way too much sugar to be healthy. It was condensating heavily in the summer heat. Mary must have made it recently. She wouldn't have just left ice in it to melt and dilute the taste. Now I was getting really worried. There was a slight

bang that made me jump. Oh, her back door was open. The inside screen door had caught the wind a little, lifting up and then tapping back into the doorframe. Maybe Mary had walked outside and hurt herself. I popped my head out the door. I had a full view of the yard, with its manicured grass, with slightly wilted-looking shrubs and trees that lined her yard. Mary herself, however, was nowhere to be seen. Closing and locking the door behind me, I sat down on one of the simple wooden chairs at the table. What should I do? Maybe call the police, reporter missing. It was probably an overreaction, but better safe than sorry, especially with the weird feeling I'd been getting. Another noise. Definitely not the back door. No, that one came from upstairs.

Mary, I called, walking quickly to the stairs, knocking over a chair in my haste. There was another loud thump, maybe the creek of a door closing. I rushed over to the stairs and peered up into the above floors hallway. It was dimly lit despite the bright summer sun outside. I probably should have charged up the stairs, but I still felt awkward walking around my friend's house without her permission, so I hesitated. Instead, I tried calling out one last time. Is anyone up there?

I heard some kind of shuffling. Maybe a window had been left open and something had fallen over? No, that wouldn't explain the second thump. I waited, holding my breath, watching the shadows, waiting for, I wasn't sure. Something to jump out at me, maybe. Derek, is that you? Oh, thank God. It was Mary.

The woman had nearly given me a damn heart attack. Relief coursed through me, and my muscles quivered as the adrenaline left my system. I shook my head and wiped my soaking wet forehead with the towel I kept in my pocket during the summer months. Yeah, it's me. Why didn't you answer when I called you? There was a pause, weirdly long and stretched out. I had almost said her name again when she finally responded. I think I must have been asleep.

Can you come upstairs? Come upstairs? Honestly? I should have said no. My boss was going to have a fit when she realized how late I'd finished my route. But... Sure. Okay.

Just wait a minute. Curse my good nature. I couldn't just turn down the old woman's request. I walked to the front door and took my shoes off, leaving them next to her purple sneakers. Now that the danger had passed, I wasn't going to risk tracking mud up those carpeted steps. My mother had raised me right. Now in socks and my mailman uniform, I trudged up the stairs. At the top, I called out to Mary again.

trying to figure out where her room was. In here, dear, she said. Ah, to my left. I passed a bathroom and a hall closet and found the master bedroom. I opened the door and there she was. Mary was laid out on the bed, lying on top of the covers, fully dressed. The odd thing was that she was wearing shoes, but they were the exact same purple sneakers that I'd just seen downstairs.

I shook my head. Now, they must just be a similar pair. It's boiling in here. Are you okay? Let me open a window. With the doors and the windows closed and the sun just starting to set, Mary's bedroom felt like an oven. It had to be at least 100 degrees.

I opened the window, which immediately let a refreshing breeze waft in. It wasn't exactly cold outside, but any bit of airflow helped. Thank you, dear, she said. No problem, I said, turning around. She was staring at me. Her eyes followed my every movement and muscle twitch.

Looking at her gave me a strange, unpleasant, familiar feeling. It was the same one that cat had given me a week ago. My early warning alarm system for detecting pets that might attack was flashing bright red. I took a step back towards the window. Can you stay with me a while? She asked. I shook my head. Sorry I can't.

I'm running late on my route. I'm behind schedule as it is. My voice had trembled a little bit, but if she'd noticed, Mary didn't say anything. The longer we held eye contact, the worse that feeling in the pit of my stomach got. I swallowed thickly. But while I'm here, I can give you your mail. Even though I'd already placed Mary's letters into her mailbox, I reached into the satchel on my side and dug through it for a moment,

heart racing, desperately stalling for time, waiting for an opportunity to flee at least the house, probably the street, and maybe the whole county. I had never felt this anxious in my whole entire life. That was when I heard it. My spine tingling and every nerve ending in my body screaming, run! I looked up from my bag. There's a calico cat. No, not a calico cat, the calico cat.

Mary had disappeared. Mary? The cat me out again. then started purring. I forced myself to look away from the cat and at the space where Mary had lain. All I saw was a black cord. The cat stretched and yawned,

causing the cord to move. It wasn't a cord. It was, I don't know, couldn't know. The cat's tail extended out from its body, the calico color slowly fading to black. That was what I had thought was a cord. It extended across the covers, ran down to the ground.

and then disappeared under the bed. Something was there, in the dark, waiting. The cat, Mary, they were what? A trick? A way to lure people close, and... I gulped, not wanting to finish that thought. Was that why the whole damn block was deserted? Hands shaking fiercely. I pulled my satchel bag strap over my head and held my bag in front of me.

It would be a poor defense against a creature that could annihilate an entire block without anyone noticing, but it would be slightly better than nothing. All the while, the cat stared at me. It had given up meowing, probably realizing I wasn't going to fall for it. Should I focus on the cat or the cord that trailed under the bed? I wasn't sure, but either way, I started inching slowly towards the door to Mary's room, keeping close to the walls. Something skittered from under the bed. It sounded like a giant spider was running across the wooden slats. Fuck this! I heaved the bag at the cat and dashed toward the exit and fled for safety. There was a shredding sound and then pieces of my bag along with the letters were everywhere,

drifting to the ground like snow. I saw something peek out from under the bed. A leg? It had a joint, like an elbow, and black fur. It swiped at the ground in front of the door. Luckily, I'd been the best hurdler on the track team in high school, and I managed to leap over it. I didn't bother staying to get a good look at the thing. I just ran and ran and ran until my quad spasmed and I fell to the ground, breathing hard and out of my mind with terror. Eventually, I got it together enough to call the police. I kept my story vague, telling them I'd been attacked by something and little else. They never found Mary, or any of the other people on the block for that matter. I got transferred to another route, and ever since then, I've been careful. I don't get too close. I don't get too close.

to the people on my route. Nods and hallows? Sure. Long chats and stopping by for lemonade? No, thank you. And no matter what, no matter how cute they are or how nice they seem, I never, ever touch a cat, just in case. SCP 1305 is a mammalian entity with an ovoid body, six multi-jointed legs, and a large jaw equipped with a long tongue that contains a lure. Weighing around 150 kilograms, and standing two meters tall, it can contort to fit into spaces one-sixteenth of its size. SCP 1305 hides in dark, enclosed spaces, like cupboards or closets, deploying its lure, often resembling a domesticated animal to attract humans. When approached, the lure transforms into a prehensile tongue, ensnaring and consuming the subject over 16 to 24 hours,

while using additional lures to attract more prey. There is no limit to the number of subjects it can consume simultaneously. As SCP 1305 devours more organic matter, it creates more lures, imitating previously consumed subjects to draw in familiar prey. This continues until the area is devoid of prey, prompting SCP 1305 to sever its added mass and relocate. SCP 1305 was discovered in 1953 in a residential home after the homeowner's mysterious disappearance and has been classified as Euclid.

A document found with SCP 1305 detailed the homeowner's interactions with what appeared to be a cat, culminating in the disappearance of their son, Jimmy. The homeowner expressed distress and suspicion toward Jimmy's mother before ultimately witnessing what seemed to be Jimmy outside the window. Thank you.