The SCP Experience - Do NOT Answer the Phone | SCP-145

Episode Date: August 14, 2023

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-145: Do NOT Answer the Phone This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp. Go to betterhelp.com/scp today to get 10% off your first month! This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-145 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z 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

Welcome to board of Viarai. Embarked and profite. Embarked and relaxes. Cirotay. Bookiné. Oh, that also. And profite. Viaray.

The voice that we love that we love. Wow, what a bunch of chunk. Jason said as we looked around the old warehouse. There might be some cool stuff here somewhere. Some valuable stuff. Lance said, I shook my head, looking at my two brothers. I didn't know much about this. dad, but what I did know doesn't give me confidence that there's anything worthwhile in here.

We didn't even know that our dad had owned this warehouse until after he died. The place was full of stacks of tilting cardboard boxes, mismatching furniture sets, old-timey bicycles, and seemingly random junk. It seemed as though our father had been a closet hoarder, and we didn't know him well enough to have a clue. We'd been estranged, after all. As the oldest, I remembered more of him. My younger brothers, Jason and Lance, didn't remember much of him.

He left when we were all pretty young, and now he left us a mess of his to clean up. Par for the course, really. Our mother was certainly a mess after he left, and we'd spend much of our lives trying to clean that mess up. Well, maybe we should just call a junk hauling company, Jason said. I mean, I don't really have the time or inclination to go through all this stuff, do you? Lance and I looked at each other. I shrugged. Maybe we can spend a couple of hours, just in case.

I'd hate to throw out a coin collection worth $100,000, you know? Jason sighed, looking around. Okay, he said, taking off his jacket and setting it aside. Let's get this over with... We need some sort of system, Lance said, his eyes lighting up. He was the most OCD of us, and he loved organizing, cleaning, and cataloging. Lay it on us, I said. You're good at it.

at that stuff. Lance looked around for a few moments, hands on his hips. Okay, he said, here's what we'll do. The sound of a phone ringing over near Jason interrupted him. We all looked toward the source of the noise. There's a freaking landline in here, Jason said. You gotta be kidding me. Just let it ring, I said, probably a telemarketer. What if it's one of Dad's friends? Jason said. What if they don't know he died? I waved a hand as Jason, as Jason started waiting through the junk, looking for the phone. Okay, what's the plan, Lance? I said. We can fill Jason in after he takes a call about his car's extended warranty.

Well, I think we should clear out a little staging area over there, Lance said, pointing to the opposite end of the space. We looked that way as Lance explained to me as plan. Behind us, I could hear Jason as he answered the phone. Hello? He asked. There was a clatter, like Jason had dropped the phone. I looked over my shoulder to see what was up, but Jason was nowhere to be seen.

I thought he was just hiding somewhere, trying to trick us. So I turned back and placed my attention on Lance once again. Finally, my youngest brother finished up. Great, I said. Let's do it. We both turned to fill Jason in, only to find that he was still gone. Where'd he go? Who knows? I said.

Hey, Jason, what's screwing around? Let's get this done. There was no answer. Signed, I moved through the maze of junk to where I'd last seen him, figuring he'd be hiding behind a pile of boxes. Come on, man. You're the one who didn't want to devote the time to this, so quit messing around. Lance followed me, and we both looked around. He would have had to pass us to get to the door, Lance noted.

He's here somewhere, I said, but I wasn't so sure. Jason liked to joke around sometimes, but this seemed a little strange. He hadn't been in one of his joking moods. Suddenly, the phone started ringing again. I moved toward the sound, finding the cordless handset lying on the floor between a stack of old shoe boxes and a plastic crate filled with random electrical equipment. After gazing around for Jason and not seeing him, I reached down and picked up the ringing phone. Are you going to answer it, Will? Lanz asked.

I guess so. Maybe it's Jason playing a trick. The off-white phone was old and beat up, the cloudy white buttons glowing green in rhythm with the ringing. Lance watched with interest as I hit the button and put the phone to my ear. Hello? A woman said, voice thick with panic. I could hear a chorus of screams coming from the background. That, combined with the woman's fever-pitched voice, prompted me to take the phone away from my ear a few inches.

Who is this? I asked. Did Jason put you up to this? Jason? Is that his name? The woman asked. A familiar scream came from the background, sending chills up my spine. Although I'd never heard him scream quite like that before, I knew it was Jason. There was no doubt in my mind.

He screamed. What the hell is this? I shouted. It's not funny. Woman yelled. Where are you? I asked, but the line was dead. I brought the phone down, staring at it for a long moment before looking up at Lance.

What the hell was that? My brother asked. Shaking my head, I said I didn't know. I heard Jason in the background, screaming for help. I've never heard him like that before. It really sounded like he was... I trailed off, unable to voice the thought. Then who are you talking to if it wasn't Jason?

I don't know. Some woman. I didn't recognize her voice. I set the phone down, shaking my head again. This is ridiculous. He's around here somewhere. People don't just disappear. I searched for Jason, moving around the warehouse to check every corner and every back room.

I even went outside to make sure his car was still there. It was. When I was about to head back inside, I hesitated, looking at my truck. After a moment of deliberation, I got my Stoger STR-9 pistol out of my glove box, clipping the holster to my belt. As I approached the warehouse door, I could hear the faint ringing of the phone, from inside. And as I put my hand on the door to open it, I heard Lance say, Hello? This was quickly followed by a clattering sound, much like the one I'd heard earlier, after Jason answered the phone the first time. A heavy weight settled on my chest as I stepped

inside and looked around. Lance was nowhere to be seen. Lance? I shouted. Where'd you go? Swallowing hard, I moved quickly over to where I'd set the phone earlier, and I found it on the floor once again. What the hell is happening? I asked the empty warehouse, gripping my head as I looked down at the phone. A quick search of the building told me that Lance was gone. Both my brothers had disappeared after answering the damn phone. But why hadn't I? What was different about me? I picked up the phone and inspected it, noting that the seams around the outside had been sealed by melting the hard plastic together. It was as if someone didn't want the phone to be taken apart. Given how old the phone was, it didn't have a built-in caller ID, but I was old enough to remember the Star 69 feature, which allowed you to call back the last number that called you.

I hit the buttons and brought the phone to my ear. It rang and rang and rang. After about a dozen rings, I ended the call. Then I remembered that these old cordless phones needed a base for charging. I didn't know how finding the base would help me figure out what had happened to my brothers. But it was the only hope I had. Lazzang sur-gillet, Pucance-Moyerned for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo. Preet a pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in-line that proposes

the most recent machine-assau and games of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas Bonanza. Without exigance of mischief and with the payments instantane. Hey, I've got gained.

Woo-hoo! Sentire the pleasure. Play-O-JO-Joh. 188 and plus, 1-Depos only depot in Ontario. 50 tours-Ratuit on Maconazoo. Depos minimum of $10.

Debt only show way to fashion responsible. The conditions apply. I started throwing junk around, searching for the base near a wall. I knew that the base would have to be plugged into a phone line for it to work. It would also need a power cord to plug into the wall for charging. While I was searching, the phone started ringing. I considered answering it,

but decided I needed more information before I did. Ten minutes later, the phone was still ringing, and I still hadn't found the base. Finally, as I stormed back, over toward the phone, I spotted the base down between an old desk and a box full of old coats. I reached down and picked it up, noting that it wasn't plugged into anything. In fact, the phone cord jack had been filled with some kind of resin, and the power input jack had been destroyed, so it wouldn't even work if there was a cord to go along with it. I dropped the base and walked

over to the phone like a zombie. I knew I had to answer it. There was no other choice. But just as I was about to I was about to press the answer button, I realized what the difference had been between the three phone calls. I suddenly knew why I hadn't disappeared when I answered it. Because Lance had been there, watching me. That had to be it. That was the only thing that was different. When Jason answered, Lance and I had been facing the other way, talking about organizing the junk. When Lance had answered it, I'd been just outside the door. If I'd only come in moments earlier, if I hadn't gone to get my gun, then I would have been in. to watch Lance answer the phone. I would have been able to keep him here. The phone was still ringing

in my hand, the noise drilling into my brain. In a momentary fit of rage, I yelled out and hurled the phone directly at the floor. Deep down, I wanted it to break into a dozen pieces. I wanted it to break so I wouldn't have to do what I knew I had to, answer the phone to save my little brothers. But the phone didn't break. It bounced off the ground and came to rest a couple of yards away, and it continued to ring. When I picked it up again, there was no visible damage from the throw. Okay, I said, staring at the phone. Okay, I'm coming, guys. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I pulled my 9mm pister out of its holster. I always kept one in the chamber and the safety on. So once I clicked the safety off, it was ready to go. With my left thumb, I pressed the

answer button and brought the phone to my ear. I'm coming, guys. Jason? Lance? Oh Christ! Oh, Jesus Christ! SCP-145 appears to be a standard 2002 model cordless telephone handset of Alcatel brand on its standard issue charging base. The charging base appears defaced. All jack inputs are sealed with resin glue, and the power input to the device has been gouged out with an unknown tool. Serial number and production date are unavailable, as all labels and stickers have been ripped off or defaced. The phone rings constantly whether it is on the base or not, regardless of the lack of power source. Tests have shown the battery is removable, and disassembly of the base has not shown any effect on the hand unit.

The hand unit itself has had all the seams sealed, preventing conventional disassembly. When answered, a female speaks on the phone in a voice that shows high levels of stress. This voice varies from conversation to conversation, but in all cases, the voice expresses extreme panic, and proceeds to plead with a listener for assistance as she describes instances of torture conducted on unknown victims. In the background, the listener will hear sounds of violence and expressions of pain and anguish. The methods of torture implied thus far have included branding, electrocution, laceration, sexual assault, disembalment, and dismemberment. Despite numerous recovery efforts, not a single human transported by SCP-145 has

been rescued. The loss of manpower and resources has prompted the O5 Council to cease all further recovery efforts.