The SCP Experience - Hell-o-ween | SCP-097

Episode Date: October 26, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-097: Hell-o-ween This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-097, 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

Look at this little dork, I said to Jimmy, gesturing out the second floor window. Jimmy, who was putting his new John Lennon record on his turntable, paused, and glanced out. He still had black and white makeup on, making his face look like a skull. His older sister, Shelly, had helped him with it. I liked Jimmy. He was one of my best friends. But I must admit that Shelly was one of the major reasons I liked coming over. to his house. Anyway, Jimmy made a face like he'd just smelled a fart. That's Ben Willard, he said. He's a little troublemaker, lives right across the way.

I'm pretty sure he was the one who egged and tepeeed my house last year. I looked back out the window at the nine or ten-year-old kid who was walking down the street in his pajamas. As I unwrapped another piece of candy, I noticed he didn't have any shoes on. What do you think he's doing? I asked, sticking the candy in my mouth. Who the hell knows with that one? Jimmy said, returning his attention to the turntable. Imagine had just come out a month ago, and Jimmy was obsessed with it.

Personally, I preferred Zeppelin. Their newest album, Led Zeppelin 4, was due to be released in November. And as the last two hours of Halloween night ticked by, November was fast-approached by. I'd always loved this time of year. I was getting a little old for trick-or-treating, but there were other things to look forward to in the fall months.

The 71 World Series had just wrapped up. For the first time ever, they'd broadcasted one of the games at night instead of in the afternoon. My dad and I stayed up late watching it. The Pittsburgh Pirates had eked out a four-to-three winner for the Baltimore Orioles, memorials, wrapping the series up about two weeks before Halloween. And now that Halloween was almost over, Thanksgiving break was fast approaching, and then Christmas break. A glorious two weeks away from high school was just what the doctor ordered. As the night went on, I felt a strong urge to get out and cause some havoc.

It was still Halloween, after all. And what better way to celebrate than to celebrate than to scare the pants off some little troublemaker. And maybe the fact that I didn't want to listen to the whole Imagine album again was a motivating factor. I stood up from the chair I'd positioned near the window. Let's go mess with him, I said, smiling and grabbing my brown top hat. I'd decided to dress as Willy Wonka, and I was still wearing my purple suit coat and large bowtie. I thought we were going to check out our hall, Jimmy said. pointing at our two pumpkin buckets sitting on his bed.

They were filled to the brim with candy. We can do that later. Come on. Don't you want to get some payback? We'll just give him a good scare and then come back. Jimmy reluctantly agreed, stopping his record player and pulling his black sneakers back on. We were out the front door in no time. Jimmy's parents were at a party,

and his sister was in her room with her big, dumb boyfriend. We got sight of Ben Willard as the kid was moving through a wooded area between two houses near the end of the street. He's going to the old fairgrounds, Jimmy said. There's nothing else back there. I smiled. Perfect. We left behind the spookily decorated homes and moved into a swath of woods that marked the edge of the housing development. We tried to move quietly, but Jimmy stepped on a branch, making a cracking sound that zing.

seemed deafening in the quiet fall night. There was no reaction from Ben. It was about 30 yards ahead of us. He didn't stop, didn't turn around. His steps didn't even falter. Looking back, that was the first indication that something was wrong. But I didn't see it then. I just thought he was some oblivious kid.

So we kept following him. The kid emerged on the other side of the woods and disappeared behind a low hill. As Jimmy and I hurried forward so as not to lose him, I noticed that it wasn't really a hill Ben had gone behind. It was a pumpkin. A massive orange pumpkin. Jimmy seemed to notice it seconds after I did. We both stopped and stared at the thing.

It must have been six feet tall and ten feet wide. Holy shit, he said. Is that real? Jimmy looked over at me and shruged. shrugged half-heartedly. His eyes were wide in his painted face. When was the last time you've been here? I asked. Since the fair came the last time, I think, back in 69. Maybe someone turned it into a pumpkin batch. You think? I said, looking around.

There were a ton of other pumpkins around, most of them much smaller than the one in front of us. They were also weird colors. Most of them were orange, but they were all also some black ones, white ones, and even a couple of red ones. The low, rhythmic sound of drums suddenly filled the air, coming from somewhere up ahead. Does that kid have a freaking drum set out here? I said, moving forward to step around the giant pumpkin. Jimmy reached out and grabbed me by the arm. He glanced around and then looked me in the eye. Let's get out of here, Dan. I don't like this. Oh, come on, man. It's just some neighbor. kids messing around. Don't be a chicken shit. Jimmy let me go, but he was shaking his head.

I just remembered. Some kids have gone missing from around the neighborhood. My parents told me to be careful, and this isn't careful. Don't make stuff up just because you're scared, I said, determined to investigate the strange drumming sound. But if you want to go home, I won't make fun of you for it. much. I turned and walked around the large pumpkin, only to see that the whole field was dotted with even more of the giant gourds. There were a few gnarled and barren trees here and there, but it was mostly pumpkins, as far as I could see.

I smiled. It was Halloween, and I was in a field with a bunch of freakishly huge pumpkins, getting ready to scare some little kids. What more could a 15-year-old want? As I made my way through the maze of vines and their attached cords, I heard Jimmy following behind me. There was a glow coming from up ahead, just beyond a low rise in the field. And although I'd lost sight of Ben, I was pretty sure that's where he was.

As far as I could tell, it was also the source of the drums. As we approached the low hill, Jimmy grabbed hold of my arm again. I turned to look at him, seeing that he was severely out. agitated. He gestured at a nearby pumpkin. As I saw what he was pointing at, my heart lurched into my throat. An orange pumpkin nearby had red liquid coming out from around its stem. So did the surrounding ones. I swiveled my head, dragging my gaze across the surrounding pumpkins. They were all bleeding, every single one of them. I shook my head, trying to search for a logical explanation. I didn't know the first thing about growing pumpkins. Maybe this was normal. Maybe it was

something they did when they were ripe. Or maybe I was grasping at straws. The low hill just ahead was clear of the gourds, even though I could have sworn there had been some on it just moments ago. I pulled Jimmy along with me, and we collapsed onto the side of the hill. I had to see what was on the other side. I had to see why there were lights on over there and why there was drumming. So what if the pumpkins are bleeding? I thought insanely. They aren't hurting us. Jimmy started whispering for us to leave, but I ignored him, climbing up a few feet to gaze over the hill, which was really just a mound of dirt. The biggest pumpkin I'd ever seen was directly across from the hill, some 15 yards away, and nearly 30 feet wide. Half crumption.

Crushed underneath one edge of the house-sized pumpkin was an old GMC pickup truck. Its headlights were on and shining, producing the glow I saw on my approach. Ben Willard sat directly in front of the pumpkin, in the middle of the pool of light cast by the truck's headlights. Now that we were close, I could hear him singing, although the words sounded like gibberish to me. But it looked like he was singing to the pumpkin. movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Several large pumpkins to the right of the massive one were shaking. I watched as cracks developed in them.

They split open in short order, one after another. Five of them in total. Human skeletons crawled out of the debris, flinging off seeds and orange, stringy guts. There were more than a dozen of the animate human skeletons. They moved in unison toward a nearby tree. reaching down to grab lengths of vine and the occasional piece of rotting rope left over from the fair two years ago. Once at the tree, they threw their ropes or vines over the branches and quickly fastened nooses, which they fixed around their bony necks. As one, they pulled themselves up by the improvised ropes

and started convulsing, the clack of their bones competing with the drums in the night air. This has to be some trick, I thought. An elaborate haunted house. Next to me, Jimmy started making coughing sounds. I looked down at him as he hacked, looking like a cat coughing up a hairball. After a few moments of this, he vomited out a mass of slimy pumpkin seeds. When he was done, he clutched his stomach and stared up at me. We looked at each other briefly before his eyes rolled back into his head. He collapsed next to his pile of vomit.

The sound of more voices erupted in the air, children's voices, I looked over the hill again, now seeing that Ben wasn't alone in front of the half-crushed truck. There were five other kids there, dancing around him in their pajamas, singing a song of gibberish. Looking up at the massive pumpkin, I saw it was now carved, a demonic orange glow coming from behind its triangular eyes and cruel grin. A lightning bolt of fear struck me, as I realized all the surrounding pumpkins were suddenly jackal. lanterns. And they all seemed to stare at me, grinning evilly. Panic, constricted my throat, and produced a cold, tingling sweat all over my skin. Out of nowhere, Ben Willard let loose a tortured scream. He scrambled up from his seated position and turned, clearly trying to flee.

He'd never had a chance. One of the pajama-clad children that had been dancing around him swooped in like an expertly swung scythe, knocking Ben's legs out from underneath the him. He hit the ground face first with a resounding thud. The rest of the children moved in. They suddenly had weapons in their little hands, pieces of jagged sheet metal, a rusty kitchen knife, and a shard of glass. One child had a hatchet. I shouted and jumped to my feet, determined to stop the terror I knew was coming. My right foot snagged on something, tripping me as I reached the top of the low hill. I looked back to see that my foot hadn't snagged on something. Someone had snacked it.

Jimmy stood on his knees, his left hand around my ankle. I looked into his face and screamed at what I saw there. His eyes were gone, eyelids bulging with pumpkin seeds. They stretched his nostrils so much, I saw his nose ripping from his face. Seeds poured out of his too wide mouth in an endless torrent. His skin began to bulge and split. The pressure of the seeds inside him becoming too great. But still, he held fast.

to my leg. Ben's screams went from tortured to hellish as the other children went to work. I tried kicking at Jimmy to release me, but it was no use. I scrambled and struck and squirmed, but I could not break free of his steely grip. And soon enough, it was too late. Ben stopped screaming as his neck was hacked apart, and his head was soon separated from his body. His arms and legs were torn from his torso with gleeful determination. The murderous children tossed the pieces of Ben Willard into the grinning mouth of the giant truck-crushing pumpkin. The five children climbed inside the massive pumpkin,

disappearing into the ghastly orange glow within. My stomach convulsed, and I gagged once before vomiting on top of the hill. I looked down at the vomit, seeing it was composed entirely of pumpkin seeds. No! I screamed and kicked away from Jimmy, who let me go this time. I turned and ran as fast as I could the way we'd come. Every single one of the pumpkins in the field looked at me with their carved eyes, smiling at my coming demise.

They followed me with their glowing eyes as I ran, stumbling, feeling my guts grow heavy with seeds I'd never eaten. Just as I reached the edge of the woods, I started vomiting again. The puke started out as seeds, but as I stepped out of the old fairgrounds and into the woods, it turned to liquid bile and half-digested candy bars. I collapsed to my knees and finished puking, laughing as I saw there were no more seeds coming out of me,

didn't last long. Pretty soon, the laughter turned to tears. I curled up in a ball on the ground as my mind went over the terrible events I'd just witnessed. I relived it again and again, even though I wanted nothing but to forget at all. But I never did forget. I woke up the next day, November 1st, in those same woods. I didn't dare look back as I made my way home.

Crazy as I knew the story would sound, I told the police everything I could remember. They didn't believe me. Not at first, anyway. But a month later, when I got up the nerve to go back to the old fairgrounds, I saw that there were some people there, putting up a wall around the place. A guy dressed in a security guard uniform stopped me and told me to get lost, told me to never come around there again.

I took his advice. I never went back there again. But, like I said, I never did forget what happened that Halloween night. SEP 97 is a 10-acre area of land in the Midwestern United States. It is the abandoned remains of a 1969 county fair, an area of approximately 5.4 square miles. Structures within the area exist in a state of moderate disrepair, consistent with the expected age and environment. At the center of SCP 97 lie the remains of a 1956 GMC pickup truck, the majority of which is crushed beneath a colossal pumpkin, known as SCP-97-0.

SCP 97-01 stands approximately 24.3 feet tall and 26.8 feet in diameter. Current estimates put SCP 97-01 at approximately 33,070 pounds. This pumpkin remains roughly spherical instead of spreading out under its own weight, as would be expected of a plant of its size. The remaining portion of SCP-97 is overgrown with several dozen varieties of with over 70 subspecies yet identified, and many previously unknown to agriculture. Many of these pumpkins have been shown capable of growing to enormous sizes, the average estimated weight being around 550 pounds.

These pumpkins, along with the assorted other crops grown on and around the remains of the 1969 fairgrounds, create a maze-like arrangement of plant life. Between April and November each year, the area of the area of the area of the area of the area of the area of the area of the area of the remains of the remains of the fairgrounds. the area within SCP-97 produces a number of anomalous phenomena, ranging from benign to implicitly aggressive. To date, 17 agents have been severely maimed with SCP-97, and 8 have died. Before the area was brought to the attention of the foundation in 1971, it claimed the lives of at least six local children. Some estimates put the number closer to 12 children, all under the age of 10. The anomalous activities culminate in the final days of October,

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