The SCP Experience - Escaping Time | SCP-1019

Episode Date: August 15, 2025

A specialized Foundation team is sent to investigate a newly discovered underground facility beneath a Swedish mountain, only to uncover a horrific, shifting mass of flesh and tentacles that speaks with the voices of the missing—trapping them in a terrifying, endless cycle of assimilation and survival beyond time itself. This story was derived from ⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1019 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. ⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Once the guards wave us through the gate, we get our first glimpse of the place. The outside isn't much to look at. Just a few temporary buildings, some construction equipment, and a massive pair of metal doors set into the base of the mountain. But the mountain itself is breathtaking. I've heard Sweden is known for its Scandinavian mountains, but seeing them in person is an experience in itself. The massive collection of dark, craggy rocks looms over us as the the transport van approaches the double doors.

For one giddy moment, I'm sure the mountain is falling on us, but it's just a trick of the mind. Being this close makes it appear as if the thing is leaning over, ready to smash us to bits under a hundred million tons of stone. The snow-covered peak scrapes the clouds as they go by. I imagine that the snow is blood from the clouds, covering the sharp top of the massive weapon. Is it bad that I think in such terms?

I don't know. It's probably all the training I've had, and all the things I've seen in my time with the foundation. Smiling with one side of my mouth, I lean forward in my seat to look up at the gouged clouds as we close in on our destination. Pretty soon, we're too close for me to see the top, and I lean back.

The hell you smiling about Lille? Abert asks from next to me. My first time in Europe, said to my colleague, who is ex-special forces, with the seemingly endless stamina of a compact, energy-efficient man. His dark hair is cut short, but his black Fumanchu mustache is a little unruly. No shit? Damn, brother, you need to get out more. What about you?

I asked, turning to look at Madrano, who was sprawled across the backbench seat, an unlit cigarette poking from one corner of her mouth. Eh? She asks, clearly having not heard any of the conversation. She's like that, always off in her own world when she isn't actively engaged in a job. But when she is engaged, I wouldn't trade her for anyone. She's a large woman in terms of stature, but not girth. She stays fit like the rest of us, and probably outweighs me by 20 pounds.

Ever been to Europe before? Madrano's brown hair is cut into a mullet, and her vaguely, and her vaguelys. vaguely Hispanic features make for an odd clash. Considering that haircut is most commonly found on white men, she nods her head. Yeah. I know better than to wait for elaboration. That's about all I'm going to get out of her. A bear and I share a look, and now he's smiling too.

There was a time when all Abert could talk about was betting Madrano. But there's an old saying about being careful what you wish for. One drunken night, they finally got together. When I asked A. Bear about it the next day at lunch, a haunted look came into his eyes, and he simply shook his head. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my stool. The van comes to a stop. From the shotgun seat, L.T. Yaramillo says, Let's get this shit done! We all pile out of the van and head to the back to grab our supplies. It takes us several minutes to gear up while the weak, Swedish sun shines down over the mountain's shoulder,

doing little to warm us thanks to the constant frigid wind. We donned ballistic vests, utility belts, tiny cameras on her helmets, radios with wireless earpieces, headlamps, extra magazines, sidearms, and our M4 rifles that are capable of semi- or full auto fire. Once we're ready to go, we walk toward the large metal doors leading into the base of the mountain. As we approach, a man emerges from one of the temporary buildings, pulling a coat on. He intercepts us as we near the doors, which are guarded by two men with rifles, much like our own. Lieutenant Yadamio, the newcomer says, shaking L.T.'s hand.

I'm Dr. Leland. I'll be overseeing the exploration. Yes, sir. Yadamio says, shaking the wispy man's hand. Why are all the scientists wispy? I wonder briefly. As far as we can tell, there is nothing moving in there, nothing alive. But as I'm sure you know, our instruments aren't exactly infallible. Yadamio nods. And the layout matches Site 179 exactly?

The underground portion of Site 179, yes. Or it matches the blueprints we have on file anyway. Which is why you're here. Dr. Layland smiles apologetically. If it's the same, we shouldn't have any problems exploring it. L.T. says, That's our home base. We know it like the tops of our did.

Like the backs of our hands, I mean. I can't tell if Layland is blushing, or it's the cold wind turning his cheeks red. Either way, the comment has the desired effect. Yes, well, good luck. I'll be in touch over the radio, and I'll be monitoring your cameras. After a slight nod, Layland turns and hustles back to the trailer. As soon as the good doctor is out of earshot, all of us chuckle.

All of us but madrano anyway, who says, I don't have a dick to know the top of L.T. I'm aware, Madrano, Yarmio says, still grinning. The two guards work together to open one of the massive metal doors. The weak sunlight barely penetrates the dark interior, so we switch our headlamps on as we file inside. Once we're all in, the guards shut the door, blotting out the sunlight and the wind.

We stand in a group, looking around the hallway. It's immediately familiar to me. This is where the elevators are. It looks exactly the same. That's crazy. Yep, L.T. says. And they say this just appeared suddenly? Abert asks.

They don't know. Or if they do, they didn't tell me. All they said was that they discovered it, whatever that means. Madrano grunts. Well, what are we waiting for? Check this out. Abert says, holding up a personnel badge with site director Liston's name and picture on it. He just picked it up from a cafe.

cafeteria table. Yadamio inspects the thing. That actually looks like Liston's badge. I guess it's a double like the rest of this place. Please bag it and bring it out, Dr. Leyland says over the radio. I pull out a clear bag and open it. A bear drops the thing in. We're all wearing gloves so as not to contaminate anything. I sealed the bag and put it into a cargo pocket. Are you still in contact with the real site 179? Yadamio asks. They have reported nothing strange thus far. Other than the existence of this facility, we haven't seen anything strange either.

Site 179 houses some extremely dangerous skips. My biggest fear walking into this place was that some of those anomalies would be running around in here. But so far, we've seen nothing like that. All the containment cells have been empty, and we've explored nearly a quarter of the facility. Let's keep moving. I'm nearest the door, so I'm the first one to step into the hallway, seeing a flash of movement from 10 yards away. Tango spotted! I shout, bringing my weapon up and pointing it down the hall.

But whatever caused, the movement is gone. What? L.T. asks. What is it? I saw movement, just a flash out of the corner of my eye. You sure it wasn't to trick of the headlamp casting shadows? A bear asks, I give him a look. He shrugs defensively.

Just asking. Okay, Madrano, take point, LT commands. Abert, you're behind her. It wasn't my imagination, LT. I'm not saying it was. Now fall in. I'm taking the rear. We move down the hall in that order,

approaching doors that should lead to a meeting room on the right and a set of bathrooms on the left. As we come to the doors, we stop. Using hand signals, Yaramillo directs Madrano and A.B.B.er. to take the meeting room on the right. He indicates that he and I will take the bathrooms on the left. When we're ready, L.T. counts down from three on his fingers.

When he gets to zero, we rush in our respective directions. I take the men's room, kicking the door open and finding nothing immediately inside. There's a line of urinals and then four stalls. I crouch and peer under the stall walls, seeing what looks like a single deformed leg in the very last stall in line. It's hard to tell. But the skin of the naked leg looks modeled with malignant growths. The foot, missing toes.

Adrenaline dumps into my system as the leg lifts up and disappears from view. Step out here now! I call, standing and taking aim at the door to the last toilet stall. The only answer is a faint splash, followed by a gurgling sound. Step out now, or I will fire! The gurgling sound fades away. I can hear Madrano saying she's got something over the radio, but her voice is fairly calm.

and I haven't heard any shots yet. I rushed to the stall and kick it open, revealing only a toilet and a toilet paper holder. The toilet gurgles as bubbles come up from the drain. What the fuck? You good, Lil? L.T. asks. We got something over here.

Yeah, coming, I say. I quickly clear the other stalls and then hustle across the hall into the meeting room, my mouth falling open as soon as I see what's in the middle of the space. Where there is a long table and a collection of chairs at the room, real site 179, there's something else entirely here. I immediately think of the deformed foot I saw in the bathroom stall. In the center of the large meeting room is a

roughly spherical amalgam of what looks to be human flesh. Some of its surface is skin, black, white, and every shade in between, while other portions appear to be exposed muscle or sickly yellow fat tissue, all of it glistening wetly. It's at least eight feet tall and just as wide. It must weigh a ton. Here and there, on every side but the front, tentacle-like strands stretch from the mass, adhering to or disappearing into the walls and ceiling. The surface ripples, and the strands vibrate like a spider's web, disturbed by a soon-to-be dead insect. The four of us take a step back, all aiming our weapons at the thing. Its very appearance makes me want to open fire. But we've been told not to engage with anything unless provoked. This thing's very existence

makes my skin crawl. I want nothing more than to eliminate it, to wipe it from the face of the earth. But of course, the researchers who control much of the foundation's bureaucracy will want to poke and prod the thing. Have any of you ever seen something like this at Site 179? Yadamil asks. The three of us respond in the negative. The surface and strands river again, this time more violently. The portion of the sphere facing us, what I've come to think of as the front, shifts, undulating until several eyes come to the surface with the stomach-roiling squishing sound. This is followed immediately by the appearance of several mouths. None of the eyes or mouths look normal.

They're all deformed in some way. The eyes are too large, feature unnatural colored irises, or have too much pupil. The mouths have too many or too few teeth, deformed lips, or no lips at all. Again, all four of us take a step back into the hall as the eyes fix on us. Our fingers inch toward our triggers in anticipation of something bad happening. Give me a reason to blast you back to hell, I think. The mouths all move in unison, releasing laughter that comes from the various sources, creating one discordant voice that grates on the nerves.

It has been so long. The mouths say in those voices, some male, some female. It's an odd effect, and it only makes me want to kill the thing more. Even so, there's something disturbingly familiar about one or more of the voices. My mind immediately goes to work trying to figure out what. What? Who are you? Gautamio asks. Although I can't hear it, I'm guessing Dr. Leyland is communicating with him over their private channel.

Us grunts don't get to hear some things. The eyes look at us all at the same time for a moment before the creature responds. I can't remember. It has been too long. There's something like regret in its voices. How did you get here? There was an accident. Many of us got out, but not all. And then, somehow, we joined. Where was the accident? At what sight?

I suddenly understand what hypothesis Leland is working with through Yaramio. He thinks something will happen to site 179 in the future, and whatever happens causes this future version of the site to appear here in the Swedish mountains. Maybe a warning from the future foundation? It wouldn't be the first time. The creature considers Yadamio's question for a long moment before answering. I'm sorry, I don't remember. The details are...

Hazy. Do you need anything? We can help you. We have people who can help. Yes, too long in the dark. I wish to move, to see outside. Yadamil listens for a moment to his earpiece and then nods. We can do that, but it will take some time.

The creature laughs again. Time. I have been here for so long. A little longer won't be difficult. Okay, we'll be back. Just hang tight. At L.T.'s gesture, we all move into the hallway and out of ear shot of the creature, assuming it doesn't have the ability to hear us wherever we are in this place. Okay, L.T. says, turning to me. First off, what happened in the bathroom?

I clear my throat, but keep my voice low just in case. When I crouched to look under the stalls, I saw what I thought was a leg. But now I'm thinking it was one of those tendril things. I'm pretty sure it came out of the toilet and then retreated back in before I could get a good look at it. Okay, so we have to assume that. that thing is in the pipes. Let's assume it's everywhere, and that it's not exactly friendly. So everyone needs to stay extremely fucking frosty. Now, Leyland wants to send a team of researchers in, but we need to clear the rest of the facility first. Abert, I want you to stay near the meeting

room and keep eyes on that thing. The rest of us are going to clear this place as fast as we can. We do that, we can go home, got it? We all answer in the affirmative. Although A bear doesn't look too happy to be on monster babysitting duty. L.T. points at him. I want you to check in every two mics, okay? Yes, sir, heber says. The three of us leave them behind as we move to finish our assignment. I don't remember this room, Madrano says as we approach a door in the very back of the

boiler room. Me neither, LT says. My heart falls. With each step deeper into the facility, I've experienced a corresponding increase in anxiety. There's something familiar about that creature, and I can't seem to unearth it, even though I've been picking at it with the back of my mind ever since. And now there's a mystery room we're going to have to explore,

not to mention all the pipes surrounding us in the boiler room. I can't help but picture each pipe pulsing with those strange tendrils. Layland, do the blueprints show another room where we are? Yadamio asks. Several moments of silence pass before Layland answers over the community channel. Yeah, that's what I thought. Yaramio sounds dejected. Lieutenant, we've just lost Abert's camera feed.

Layland says. Copy. A bear, check in. We wait. There's no answer. A bear, check in. Still nothing. Shit, we need to go back.

The mystery room can wait. As we turn to leave, Abert's voice comes over the community channel. You okay? L.T. asks. You sound a little. strange. A bear clears his throat. Yeah, all good here. Didn't you hear Layland? Your camera isn't working. My team in. L.T. sighs. As we move back to the closed door, the dozen or so pipes sprouting out from the two huge boilers groan. I look around and swallow, my throat, making a

clicking sound. Madrano grabs the door handle and gets ready to open it, so Yadamio and I can rush inside. Just as she's about to open the door, I suddenly realize what was so familiar about the creature's amalgamation of voices. My whole body goes cold, like my bones are made of ice. Wait! I shout just as Madrano opens the door. I catch a glimpse of the inside of the room, but what I see is too much to handle. My brain revolts. There's too much happening at once, because the pipes are rupturing. Fleshy tendrils rip through the metal and whipped through the air toward us. L.T. shouts. Madrano whips her gun up. I dive for the floor just as a tendril sails over me and crashes into L.T. As he goes down hard, he fires his weapon, a line of bullets

thudding into metal and concrete and creature flesh. The tendril wraps around his neck and starts pulling him toward the mystery room door. Madrano shoots the tendril a few feet above L.T.'s neck. Blood spews out with each bullet impact, close to severing the thing. Just as she finishes the job, another tentacle, which is wrapped around a jet. Jagged length of pipe attacks her. Look out! I scream from my place on the floor, opening fire at the approaching appendage.

But it's too late. The length of pipe impales Madrano through the back, crashing out through her rib cage in a spew of blood and pulverized organs. The tendril lifts her off the floor and throws her into the mystery room, pipe and all. I roll as another appendage slams into the floor next to me. Meanwhile, L.T. is getting to his feet, tossing the severed portion of tendril to the floor. He screams for me to run, but I'm too busy firing at half a dozen incoming tentacles.

Yadermio opens fire too, and makes his way over to me, our bullets keeping them away for now. He pulls me to my feet and shoves me toward the exit, and then we both run out of bullets. The tentacles dart at us. There's no time to change mags. The only thing to do is run. I bolt, leaping over one tentacle, tucking under another. Holding my empty rifle with my left hand, I reach for my sidearm with my right. I can hear LT's footsteps behind me, so I keep running.

I pull my sidearm out and fire at the nearest tentacles. The door is just a few yards away when I hear a strangled gasp from Yadamio. I keep running, but I can't help risking a glance over my shoulder. Two tendrils have hold of Yadamio, one around the legs and one around the torso. As I spin around to help him, they snap him in half backward. His upper back touching his calves when they're done, then they throw him into the mystery room, Knowing there's nothing I can do, I turn around again, emptying my pistol as I resume my mad dash.

The door is within spitting distance. If I can get through it and close it, I might have a chance. But before I take even two more steps, a tendril whips out of nowhere and hits me in the chest. My feet fly out from under me, and I land on the concrete with a breath stealing him back. As I try to pull a breath in, I feel a slithery, mottled appendage wrap around my ankles. It gangs me away from salvation and toward the... mystery room. I dropped my empty pistol and scrabble at the floor with my hands, the gloves tearing as I struggle for purchase. Time slows for my panic-filled mind, and I have a few moments

to reflect on what I saw through the mystery room doorway earlier. It was like a shimmering mirror, reflecting the boiler room back at me. I saw myself and Madrano and LT in that strange mirror, but there were some key differences. The boilers weren't there. Instead, the hulking pieces of metal and their protruding pipes were identical to the tendril sprouting creature we saw in the meeting room. And instead of the concrete walls in this room, the walls in the mystery room were made of exposed muscle, glistening redly in the dim light from our headlamps. Then the tendril is lifting me off the floor and throwing me into the mirror.

I'd break the shimmery surface, but before I can land on the floor, several other tendrils grab me and pull me toward one of the pulsing, sickening masses of muscle and flesh that are where the boiler should be. As my feet touch the surface of the fleshy mass, the surface parts for me. My boots disappear into the hole, and then the flesh closes around my lower legs. That's when the pain starts. It's like nothing I've ever experienced, and it's not just physical pain. That I could stand.

It's the psychic pain of myself being torn apart, dissolved, assimilated. There is no more I. There is only we, and we are weak. Time is different for us. Time starts and stops again and fits. We exist between planes, stuck in an endless cycle, unable to go free. And we are weak. But sustenance is coming. We can feel it. We can feel them. Hear them as they walk through the long abandoned halls that we call home and hell. They approach one part of us. A familiar one glimpses a small appendage in the bathroom, but we'd retracting. before he can get a good look. Simultaneously, two others discover us in the meeting room. Part of us recognizes them. We know their names.

We were once them, among many others. Madrano and Yadamio will die, and we will absorb them for energy. But Ebert and Leal will join us, providing a different kind of energy, one that keeps us from going insane. Now, as the four of them stare at us, we speak with many voices. But one of them belongs to Leal, and one belongs to Ebert.

We can see the confusion on Leal's face. We can feel his disgust, his hatred. We know what comes next. We have been here before, thousands of times. We know Leal will realize we're speaking with his voice, but by then it will be too late. We will suffer injuries, but what we gain will be much greater than what we lose.

We know it will happen because it must happen. Time is a circle. We are stuck in an endless cycle. Three of them leave and one stays. A bear. We wait. We know Abert will recognize his voice even before Liel comes to the same conclusion. We must wait until he realizes.

At the last moment, we will take A bear, disable his camera, and use his voice to speak to the others. They must enter the boiler room so we can continue the cycle. There is nothing else to do. We are weak. We must regain our strength. We must survive. Time is a circle, but maybe one day we can escape time. SCP-19 is the designation given to an underground facility located in Elcross, Sweden.

According to scans, the facility's layout is almost identical to site 179's underground component. However, there seems to be one extra room that is not present. in site 179. Scans of SCP 1019 for antimimetic, temporal, and cognizantous effects are all negative. All other hypotheses as to the creation or manifestation to SCP 1019 are to be submitted to research team Kaviyadi.

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