The SCP Experience - It Haunts the Fields | SCP-4616

Episode Date: January 16, 2023

Check out my brand new UFO podcast here: THEY'RE OUT THERE SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-4616: It Haunts the Fields This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4616, 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

It's something else here now. Something new. From exclusively on Paramount Plus. It's the series Stephen King calls Scary as Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch.

Saving those children is how we all go home. From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. I leaned on my shovel, freshly churned and dirt at my feet. A small oak sapling lay nearby, rich loam, still clinging to its exposed roots. Gazing out at the trail of dust, kicked up by the cruiser's tires, I tried my best not to let panic creep back into my chest. And it took all I had not to turn my head to look at the tree line some 200 yards to my right. I could feel him watching me.

Or it. The afternoon sunlight glinted off the cruiser's windshield, prompting me to squint as the vehicle pulled up in front of the low ranch-style house I'd bought. Only bought wasn't quite the right word. I didn't own it outright. I had a mortgage, and the monthly payment was nothing to sneeze at. I'll tell you that for free. So if I didn't get this whole thing figured out, I was in for it as well as my family. I raised my hand in greeting as the clunk of the car.

The car shifting into park came to my ears. The door to the sheriff's cruiser opened, and a leg stepped out, complete with a brown cowboy boot and a tan pant leg. Unable to help myself, I glanced to my right at the tree line, and I saw him there, or it, but only for the briefest of moments before it pulled its ghostly white head back around a tree. Still, those large black eyes seemed to catch in my memory like the sight of a bad accident. Howdy, the man said, now completely out of the cruiser. He shut the door and hitched his belt up.

He was thick-limbed and compact, with large hands and a weathered face. He wore a cowboy hat over black hair, and his friendly smile seemed genuine enough. I'm Deputy Granger, he said, stepping toward me with a handout. I stepped away from my shovel, the blade of which was jammed into the ground, keeping it upright. Shaking hands, I said. Rob Warren. Pleasure, Granger said, retrieving his hand. He gazed around, clearly giving me a chance to open up the conversation.

I glanced over his shoulder and saw my wife and 12-year-old daughter gazing out the living room window. The round faces full of concern. I heard you may have found some bones. Granger said, glancing toward the hole I'd been standing beside. Not quite, I said, turning back toward the hole with a dug-up oak sapling nearby. There were three more saplings, still planted in the ground in a rough circle. These four trees weren't here last night when I went to bed. I didn't plant them, and neither did anyone else in my family.

So I started digging them up, and, well, you better just see for yourself. Okay, then. Granger said. We stepped over toward the hole together, but Granger suddenly stopped. I followed his gaze, seeing he was looking toward the tree line. There was no white face there, no tall, skinny body, just trees. Granger looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Did you see it? I asked him. Huh? He said, snapping out of it. See what? The face, the white face. A frown twisted his features. Just what the hell you got going on here? You playing some kind of prank? I shook my head. I wish I were, deputy. Why don't you just take a look in the hole? He looked at the tree line one more

time before setting his mouth and stepping next to the hole where the sapling had been. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he said, pulling his gun and pointing it at me. That's the weaver boy. I put my hands up. Whoa now. I said. I call him. Called you, remember? That's what killers do. He said excitedly. I've seen it on that law and order. They think it throws the detectives off, but it don't.

Now get down on the ground. I heard the front door of the house bang open. What are you doing? Wendy screamed. My husband didn't do nothing wrong. Step back inside, ma'am. Ranger said. It's that thing in the woods.

My wife said. We only just moved here. She's got a point. I said. When did the Weaver Boy go missing? Granger had shifted position so he could see both me and Wendy at the same time. Three weeks ago, he said, sounding unsure. Right.

I said, we've only lived here for a week. You know that, right? The only other time I was here when I was looking at the house. And that was nearly two months ago now. You can check. Granger shifted from foot to foot. Then his gaze snapped back up to the tree line. I looked over two.

and I saw it. It was moving fast, faster than any human could, parallel to the tree line. Its overly long and skinny white legs flashed. Its hunched back made it so its arms hung down around its knees, and its head was turned toward us the whole time, gazing with those empty black eyes. What the hell is that day? Granger yelled.

It disappeared deeper into the woods. It has something to do with the recent disappearances, I said. It must. You've had four, right? And there's four saplings here. Seeming to ignore me, Granger lifted his left hand

at the radio, clipped to his right shoulder. He spoke into it, requesting backup. Then he started off across the field toward the tree line. What are you doing? I asked. You're not going to wait for backup? It's a man.

Granger called over his shoulder. Just a man. A big man. Can't be nothing else. I wasn't so sure. But I watched him go. Just as I was about to follow him out, Wendy came up and grabbed my arm. Don't you dare, she said.

I knew better than to test her. So I stayed right where I was, watching the deputy grow smaller and smaller as he worked his way across the tilled field. He slowed as he approached the tree line, raising his weapon with both hands. Wendy and I watched as a flash of skinny white limbs, almost too fast to see, rushed out of the woods. Granger fired his gun, but I could tell the barrel wasn't pointing anywhere near the beast. In a flash, I saw the creature slash out with its right hand.

I wasn't sure if it was holding something, or if its right hand had three long claws on it. Either way, the result was the same. Torrents of blood streamed away from Granger, just as quick as it came, the tall white creature was gone. The deputy turned around, dropping his gun. gun as he stumbled away from the tree line. He had three massive gashes across his chest. Wendy gave a wail and pushed her face into my shoulder. Granger took a few steps before falling to his knees, and then his face. Movement caught my eye off to the right, and I looked over just in time to see a white blur racing toward us. Even as I clutched my wife and stepped back,

the white blur sped past us, ruffling our clothes. Heart, thudding like the hooves of a racing horse, I yanked my wife toward the house. Although she hadn't been looking, she'd felt something. Soon, we were running. Then I was slamming the door and locking it, looking outside for signs of the creature. I saw nothing. Lock everything, I said. Our daughter, Andy, was standing in the entryway, looking at us with wide eyes. Wendy and Andy stuck together as they hurried around the house, locking windows and doors. I got my shotgun. and went to the living room, looking out the window. I could see the three saplings still standing,

and the fourth, lying next to the hole with a dead kid in it. Nothing happened for about 15 minutes. No sign of the strange creature. Nothing. Then I saw a plume of dust forming on the dirt road. That was when I remembered Granger calling on the radio before he went off and got himself killed. Sure enough, I was able to make out another cruiser as it got closer.

There was no way I was going to step out of my house. I'd let the cop come to the door, then let him in where we could talk in the relative safety of my house. So I watched patiently as the vehicle grew closer. When it was about 50 yards from my house, a white blur streaked across my vision. Before I knew what was happening, the side of the cruiser was smashed in,

and the vehicle was rolling onto its roof, crushing the light bar fixed to the top. The creature yanked the front passenger door, wore off and threw it. Then it pulled the screaming sheriff's deputy out onto the dirt road. Its long limbs flailed as it hunched over the poor man, smashing it again and again with its hands until there was nothing left but a bloody mess that closely resembled roadkill. As the creature streaked back the way it had come, towards the woods, it was no longer all white. Its arms and chest were streaked with crimson.

What was that noise? Wendy asked from behind me. I spun around and gripped her in one arm, turning her away from the window. I still held the shotgun in one hand. Don't look, I said, don't look. Andy stood back in the doorway between the living room and dining room. Hands clutched together in front of her. I knew we had to leave, but I was afraid of what might happen if we tried. In our past, we got Andy calmed down and made her a little bed in the middle hallway. The only place in the house that wasn't easily accessible by window. Wendy and I sat in the living room to discuss our options. I didn't want to call anyone else in,

because I didn't want another death on my conscience. Wendy disagreed. She said we should call the Army or National Guard. I knew they wouldn't believe me. I also knew that more sheriff's deputies would likely show up eventually. When their men hadn't checked in for a while, they would surely send more people. So our best bet was to leave, and to leave fast.

We came up with a plan. I guess I should say I came up with a plan. Wendy didn't like it, but I put my foot down. There was no way in hell I was going to let her talk me out of it. So nearly two hours after the second deputy showed up, we put the plan into action. I stepped out onto the small back stoop and looked over toward the tree line. I didn't see any white figure, just trees.

We were losing light quickly. And as I walked toward the machine shed next to the standalone garage, a purple and orange sunset lent its stark brilliance to the landscape. I was struck by how I could feel such appreciation and so much fear all at once. Getting up into the utility tractor with a shotgun in hand wasn't hard. It wasn't an enclosed cab, which I was suddenly happy for. It would mean I could shoot without windows in the way. Pucance-Moyane

for 15 minutes. We're like to dojo. Fere to play. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in line that proposes the most recent machine

to money to and the show of free to do on Big Bas Bonanza without the without any without any payments instantane.

Hey, I've gained. Woohoo! Sentire the pleasure Play-Ojo 108 and plus, 1,1 depots only depot only depot tour free

on the machine-a-sou B'Bass Bonanza Depos Minimimum of 10 dollars. Veiled to play to fashion responsible. The conditions We're going to life.

With a shotgun across my lap, I steered the tractor out of the machine shed and stopped it. Then I signaled to my wife. Wendy and Andy ran out of the house, hand in hand, as fast as they could. I had the shotgun in hand and was looking toward the tree line. No sign of the creature. Wendy and Andy disappeared into the garage. Moments later, I heard our truck fire up.

I steered the tractor out around the house. house. Wendy followed in the truck. When we got in front of the house, I bumped off the road and into the field, running over the mounds of dirt and the painstakingly planted seeds. Wendy stayed on the road, keeping next to the tractor. This meant I was between the tree line and the Ford truck. I was hoping it would fool the thing for long enough to get Wendy and Andy to safety. We approached the overturned cruiser. Wendy had her right hand over Andy's eyes, preventing her from seeing the bloody mess that had been a living, breathing human until the creature pulverized him. As we approached the property line, I saw movement from the woods, a white blur in the growing

shadows under the trees. Go! I shouted. Go! The Ford's speed didn't change, and the white blur was suddenly streaking toward us. Go, Wendy! I called, raising the shotgun to my shoulder while the tractor puttered along. The roar of the Ford's engine told me all I needed to know.

But as the Ford pulled ahead of the tractor, I saw the creature change direction. I fired at it once, twice, three times. On the third shot, it changed direction again, heading toward me. I tensed, trying to time it just right. I jumped out of the tractor just as the creature crashed into it. My impact on the ground sent the shotgun clattering out of my hand. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted onto the road as the overturned tractor came to rest behind me. The back of the Ford was visible a quarter mile away, and it wasn't slowing.

They'd made it across the property line. I hoped that was enough. I didn't look back. I just kept running. And as I approached the slotted metal cattle guard that denoted the end of our property, I knew I was going to make it. Just a few more steps! My feet were knocked out from under me.

I spun in the air, landing directly on the cattle guard with a resounding clang. Trying to get my legs under me, I quickly realized something was wrong with them, but my arms were still working, and I dragged myself to the other side of the grate. I looked back, noting briefly the deep and profusely bleeding gashes in my legs. But beyond my ruined legs, there was the creature, standing on the other side of the grate. It must have been 12 feet tall. It was hunched, looking at me with dark eyes in a modelled white face. Three bloody and savage claws formed the bulk of its right hand.

The sun was almost completely down behind it, the remnants of light fading quickly. Its gaze shifted, looking down the road. I turned and looked that way, no longer able to see the ford. The only evidence of its existence was the plume of dust, tiny in the dark and distance. I looked back and smiled at the creature. You can't have them, you son of a bitch. Its doll's eyes shifted back to me, and then down to the grate. And as it lifted one leg up, I realized I had no real proof that there was some unseen force

keeping the thing on my newly acquired property. As its foot came down on my side of the cattle guard, my smile died. SCP 4616 is a humanoid entity of unknown composition and intelligence, currently confined to a 98-acre area of farmland and woods in the American Midwest. SCP 4616 possesses superhuman speed and agility, while also actively avoiding and destroying surveillance equipment within its containment zone. As such, the foundation has yet to acquire any high-resolution images or videos of the entity. Eyewitness testimony has consistently described the entity as approximately 13 feet in height, extremely thin, with a hunched posture, almost entirely white in color, with a wide, oval head,

widely spaced black eyes. It is either dressed in loose fitting, tattered clothing, or is covered in matted white fur. Its right hand either possesses three long, curved claws, or a three-bladed instrument of some kind. During nighttime hours, SCP 4616 will often, though irregularly, leave its woods and inspect the farm. While it will often do useful farmwork during these times,

It also regularly rearranges items apparently at random, and will sometimes damage property and livestock. SCP 4616 also regularly bangs and scrapes on the farmhouse, likely trying to gain entry, as it was observed breaching the living facilities of its previous containment zones. If any of the farmhouse residents are outdoors during SCP 4616's nocturnal excursions, it will typically attempt to abduct them. It will never abduct more than a single individual in a given night, immediately taking its victim into the woods. No abduction victim has ever been recovered alive,

but they often turn up planted under oak saplings on the property. SCP 4616 will also attempt to abduct any residents attempting to leave the containment area, regardless of the time of day. If any individuals other than the farm's residents enter SCP 4616's consent, containment zone at any time, it will violently attack them, typically overturning vehicles and reducing victims' bodies to a semi-fluid pulp within a matter of minutes. If for any reason a farm becomes devoid of residence or otherwise defunct, SCP 4616 will relocate to the nearest farm containing a wooded area.