The SCP Experience - From the Darkness Under the Furniture | SCP-995

Episode Date: March 4, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-995: From the Darkness Under the Furniture 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-995, 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

Welcome to aboard Via Rai. Embarked and profite. Embarque and celebrate. Rigolet. Publié. Savoré. Admirate. And profite.

Villaray, the voice we love that we love. We pull up to the house just after 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Ricky's car shudders and sputters as he puts it in park. Then he turns the engine off and the silence of the neighborhood bears down on us. Good. The last thing we need is. some old dipshit walking past, wanting to stop and have a chat, telling us about his childhood during the Great Depression

when you had to walk 20 miles to school, uphill both ways. I know it's a sleepy neighborhood, and I know it's mostly retirees that live around here. I also know that 3 o'clock in the afternoon is nap time for many of them. This is the place? Tina asks from the back seat. Yep, I say for my place in shotgun. Kind of a dump, huh?

Tina nods absently, staring up at the old Victorian-style house. The white paint is chipping, and the once-black decorative shutters, flanking each window are now a dull gray. The yard has been recently trimmed and looks good. It's really the only part of the property that does look good. And that's because I worked my ass off to trim all the weeds and mow the lawn the day before yesterday. Ricky is staring up at the house,

and I know he'll need some reassurance before we go in. It took some convincing to get him to come straight here after school in the first place. He's kind of a bitch. But he's the one with the car, so what can you do? Next to Tina in the backseat is Drake. The two of them are dating, but I know it's just a phase. Tina will come around soon. She'll dump his ass and get with me.

After all, I'm about to make her rich. I'm about to make us all rich. All right, I say. You guys stay in the car. for a minute while I go make sure she's asleep. She's still here? Ricky says, turning his wide eyes to me. Yeah, dude, I say. She's like 90 years old. Where the hell is she gonna go? Just relax. I know her schedule, and I know she can't hear shit. She can barely see, especially without her glasses. So just stay here. I'll be right back. I get out of the car and head up the walkway, hopping up the three stairs and onto the

creaky wooden porch. I fetch the key from under a small planter with some long dead plant inside, and slip inside the musty house. The smell of old person hits me like a stink pop, the sweet sourness infused with a pungent odor I associate with moldy showers. Mrs. Shilton? I call out sweetly. It's Nathaniel. Are you awake? There's no answer except for the soft creaking that the house seems to make all the time, as if something is always shifting around somewhere in the place, making small noises. It's an ominous sound that I shrug off, having heard it during moments of silence every time I've been in the house. Dust motes are thick in the air, illuminated by sunlight streaming through the lace curtains. Old family

photographs hang on every conceivable inch of wall, knick-knacks, figurines, and decorative bowls of fake fruit crowd ancient tables. Mid-20th century furniture crouches on worn carpets and wood floors that haven't seen the touch of varnish in decades. Everything is as it should be. I make my way up the stairs, not bothering to be quiet. If she's up and about right now, we'll just have to come back another day. But even before I make it to her bedroom, I know she's asleep. Her door opens a crack, and I glance inside before opening it further.

She's propped up on what seems like 20 pillows. her mouth hanging open as she breathes softly. Her skin looks fragile and as wrinkled as the frosting border of a birthday cake. Her once-white dressing gown is stained with splotches of yellow and brown. I step up to her bedside table and locate her hearing aids and glasses amid the forest of prescription bottles and half-empty cups of water. I pocket the hearing aids and hang the glasses around my neck with the beaded string to which they're attached. Then I head over to her dresser and grab her jewelry box, not bothering to open it

yet. I swipe up a couple of trinkets from her dresser, searching for anything else valuable before I decide to leave me. Heading back to her bedroom door, I hear the creak of wood from behind me. I whip my head around. Sure, I'll see Mrs. Shilton getting out of bed, but I don't. She hasn't moved a muscle. Damn creepy old house. I leave the jewelry. jewelry box inside as I grab the others. Tina and Drake come willingly, dollar signs in their eyes. Ricky needs some coaxing, which turns into vague threats before I can actually get him in the house. The four of us stand in the entryway, looking around. Tina and Drake have their backpacks, their school books, and papers dumped on the backseat of Ricky's car. Okay, I say,

stepping over to pick up the jewelry box. This is the mother-loyal. I open it to find that there are only a couple of necklaces and some earrings inside. Wow, Drake says with unmistakable sarcasm. We're rich. Damn it, I say. I figured this might happen. When I saw this the other day, it was full. She's always leaving necklaces and rings and junk around the house.

We've just got to find them. Grab anything that looks expensive. Let's make this quick. We go our separate ways, hunting for treasure. I watch where Tina goes and make my way casually into the same room, a sitting room with two couches and two chairs. So, I say, sidling up to her, you want to hang out after this? Celebrate, just you and me? Tina's eyes flick over to the room entrance, as if she's looking for Drake. Come on, Nate, she says. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm with Drake? So knock it off.

She's playing hard to get. Come on. A screen cuts the air from another room. Tina and I run toward the sound, finding Drake, holding up one bleeding hand. I roll my eyes when I see the cut on his middle finger. What the hell are you screaming for? I say.

It's barely a scratch. Fuck you, Nate. It hurts. What happened, baby? Tina cooes, rubbing Drake's back with one hand. Now she's trying to make me jealous. Does she have cats or something?

Drake says before putting the wound to his mouth. No, she doesn't have cats, I say. Well, something attacked me. I was reaching under that chair, and this is what happened. Well, she's probably awake now, so let's make this quick, I say. Then, realizing I haven't seen him, where's Ricky? Drake and Tina shrug. He probably chickened out and went back to his car.

Damn it, I say. Just hurry up and get whatever you can. We need to get out of here. Tina bends down in front of the old recliner that Ricky got hurt under. She puts her head to the floor and looks under the chair. Oh my God, she says. What? Drake says. What is it?

Tina reaches under the chair and pulls out an object about the size and shape of a shoe. But it's definitely not a shoe. It's a skull. A dog skull from the looks of it. It's coated in dust bunnies and still has some rotting skin left on it. When Tina realizes just what it is, she drops it to the floor. It really is a skull. What the hell? She says, looking up at me.

What the hell does this woman do here? I don't know, I say, looking at the skull. She's just a normal lady, far as I can tell. This is not normal, Tina says. Whatever, just keep looking, I say. There's stuff stashed everywhere. I head back to the sitting room to continue my search, leaving Tina and Drake behind in the living room. Catching a glimpse of something shiny on the floor near an ottoman. I stop.

It looks like a golden necklace. I lean down and reach under the ottoman to pick it up. A sickeningly sharp pain erupts in my hand, and I try to yank it back out from the darkness. But something has latched onto it. The pain increases, and I'm suddenly panicking, making little whimpering noise as a I feel something terrible happening to my hand. I feel and hear the separation of meat from meat and bone from bone just before I'm able to yank my hand back. I stare at the appendage, which is spurting blood from the stumps where four of my fingers used to be. I don't scream. It doesn't even occur to me. The shock is too great. I simply stare at my hand, unable to accept that my fingers have just been ripped off. Surely, this is someone else's

hand, someone else's life, not mine. Things like this don't happen to me. I stand up, gripping my right wrist with my left hand in an instinctive act to try and stop the bleeding. I stumbled away from the ottoman, heading for the kitchen at the back of the house. This doesn't really register. I'm not going to the kitchen for any reason. I'm just getting away from whatever is under that ottoman. Making it through the doorway into the kitchen, my eyes fall in a sight that takes me a minute to comprehend. But when I do, a complete sense of black terror envelops me. It's Ricky. He's lying face up on the kitchen floor next to the oven. In fact, he's pressed up against the oven, and it looks like his left arm is trapped under the appliance. But that's not possible. It would

never fit. Then I see the blood pulling round him, and I realize that his arm is gone. I stumbled toward him, lightheaded from fear and bloodlod. and something moves on top of him. Three things, in fact. I hadn't noticed them before because I was so fixated on how his arm could be under the oven, but I noticed them now.

Two of them are dark, green, and black, while the third is gray and black. They're about the size of bicycle helmets in diameter, but they sit low on four legs that end in claws. Their pointed snouts have no lips to cover their incredibly sharp teeth, so they seem to snarl at me as they look up, taking their attention away from the wounds they've been gouging in Ricky. They are unlike any creatures I've ever seen.

And their fur, if it can be called that, looks more like a mixture of mold and dust than any kind of hair. If they have eyes, I cannot see them amid the dirty, dust bunny-like fur. A shadow falls over me from behind, and I turn to see Tina and Drake in the kitchen doorway. We need to go. Oh my God! Tina says when she sees my hand, Then her eyes catch on Ricky's body on the floor, and the three things on top of him.

Both Tina and Drake back away, apparently caught speechless. I see movement from behind them. More of the dozen little creatures scurry out from beneath couches and chairs in the sitting room. I turn to run as the three creatures on top of Ricky jump at me. One of them sinks its teeth into my right calf, the other into my side. The third climbs up my back and takes a chunk out of the side of my neck. My legs are suddenly heavy. My thoughts fast, but my action sluggish.

I tripped, crashing to the floor in the main hallway bordering the kitchen. I finally managed to scream as I feel the creatures taking more bites out of me. Tina and Drake are now screaming, too. Terrible, blood-curdling screams. A bent shape enters the hallway ahead of me, coming from the stairway. It's Mrs. Shilton. She shambles down the hallway toward me, squinting her eyes. Oh, good, she says.

It worked. You eat your fill now, little ones. Pretty soon it's going to be hard for me to get you this much food. I just don't know what I'll do then. No, I sure don't. But I guess I'll think of something. I grung, realizing that she's talking to the creatures, like they're her pets. One of them scurries around in front of my face,

and as Mrs. Shilton watches, it uses its pointy snout and sharp teeth. to dig out my right eyeball. I scream again for the last time. SCP 995 is an organism with traits that vary between those of fungi and animals. SCP 995's life cycle starts as a spore. The spore stays dormant until it finds an area that's dark and moist. An SCP 995 spore has more probability of activating under artificial structures such as household furniture, leather, vinyl, and Polyester seemed to be favored. There, the spore will grow into a soft organic mass,

which feeds off of microorganisms in the air. It will continue to grow, sprouting appendages and enabling it to move. A mouth will soon form, along with teeth and a simple digestive tract. SCP-995 in its mature stage feeds on larger organisms such as insects and rodents. Infants have become prey, along with household pets. With access to a bountiful and secure food source, SCP 995 will multiply. If a large population of SCP 995 has spawned in a small area,

they will start to migrate, infesting an average-sized house with hundreds of organisms in a few days. Large populations have been known to attack larger prey, such as humans, especially after having worked up from smaller prey. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-moyerned for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Prere to play.

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