The SCP Experience - Sunlight Pills™ | SCP-2022

Episode Date: January 24, 2025

When two desperate criminals rob an elderly woman’s home, they stumble upon a mysterious pack of glowing pills labeled "Sunlight Pills." As one of them succumbs to the allure of the strange capsules, he begins to experience euphoric highs, only to spiral into terrifying physical and mental decay. Haunted by nightmarish visions and an insatiable hunger for more, his addiction turns violent, leaving a trail of chaos and bloodshed. As the pills' true power is revealed, survival becomes a battle against the darkness consuming him from within. In a desperate race to reclaim his sanity, he discovers that some addictions don’t just destroy—they devour. SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-2022 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2022 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Cyrus Spears * * * 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 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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It's exceptional but effortless, like actually effortless. Simply press, brew, and explore. Nispresso, what else? Keep exploring at nespresso.com. Ray swept his arm across the top of the old lady's dresser. A dozen pill bottles and cases fell off the edge and onto her floor,

scattering across the beige carpet and a carnage of splenage of splenely. splintered silver aluminum and orange plastic bottles. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, just something good. Martin was in the kitchen looking through the pantry, trying to see if there was anything salvageable on the white wire shelving. A thick envelope full of hundreds, a gold Amex stashed in a coffee can. There was no telling what could be in there.

Old people were nuts. The old lady herself was dead on the kitchen floor. half her head was missing and her addled brains painted the dark wood cabinets. That wasn't Ray's fault, though. That was Martin's. He had gotten a little trigger happy.

They hadn't really expected anyone to be home when they jimmied open the sliding glass back door. Ray knelt down on the carpet and pushed the muzzle of his pistol through the med bottles, like one of them was going to explode. You never knew. Nothing! He heard Martin call.

from the kitchen. Ain't shit in here. Bad luck. Ray called back. Ain't shit in here either. Let's go. Martin was already in the bedroom doorway, looming while leaning heavily on his right leg,

which was shorter than the other. Someone definitely heard that blast. We've got time, Ray told him. He started picking the bottles up and turning them around. He didn't know what half the label said, but if they were at least half full, He would take them anyway. He was looking for the usual stuff, Vicodin, codeine, but he would take whatever he could get.

He'd take them down to carry and get a good quote. She'd be able to tell him what was good and what was trash. I'm giving you one minute, Martin said. Then I'm leaving, with or without you. I've got the keys. Sure, sure, Ray said. He stuffed a few bottles into his pockets and started grabbing aluminum packets. by the handful. Those could be worth something, too. You never knew. Martin barked.

Ray stood up and dusted off his suede jacket. I'm coming! He snapped back. Martin probably didn't hear him because he had already turned away. The old Crown Vic that Martin drove was cheap, and it wasn't much for getaways. He bought it for $3,000 from an old man, just looking to leg it over the state line to avoid paying off the IRAs. hang off the IRS, or something like that. It got them where they needed to go, and they couldn't ask for much better. Helped that a lot of people thought it was an undercover police car, so they didn't get stopped as much as they should, even when speeding.

In this case, it got them home, or really, the place they called home at the moment. It was a real piece of work that they rented for $30 a night, which they split between the two of them week by week, and were able to afford their fix of cigarettes, beer, and lottery tickets. On a good week, they could add broken packs of instant noodles to the mix. On a day like today, where everything had gone wrong, Ray was only counting on beer and sleep for dinner. Martin dropped him off at the door and went to the motel office to pay up their bill before it closed for the weekend.

Ray did his part by emptying his pockets onto the hospital. hard, disheveled motel bed and reevaluating his spoils. The longer he looked at the labels, the more he was convinced that he had just picked up some old Brod's blood pressure medication. Everything was open, except for one box. On the front of it, it just said, 2.96 Bora Bora Sunlight Pills. He made a face and picked up the package, wrestling with the paper thin end to break it open, not even bothering to try and find the tape.

An aluminum pack slid out. There were ten slots, each holding a bright yellow pill that was almost dizzying to look at. The pills were brighter than cheap glow sticks, and it took him a moment to realize that his eyes were watering from the glare. Ray dragged his hand over his eyes to mop up the water, and then sniffed to suck up any condensation gathering in his nostrils. He flipped the packet over to see what the directions on the back were.

But it was all written in such tiny font that he couldn't tell if it was even English. He folded the aluminum packet in half and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. Martin didn't need to know about it. What could it be anyway? Some kind of experimental club drug? He didn't know why an old woman would have that. But there was no telling. They probably said it would help with headaches or some shit.

Doctors would give you anything for any reason unless they thought you were a dope fiend. Then all they gave you was Tylenol and well-wishes as they sent you out the door of the free clinic. Ray chewed on his lip and stood up just as Martin came back through the door. Anything? Martin asked.

Not much. Ray gestured to the pile. Have Carrie look at it, I guess. But I couldn't see anything right off the bat. Fuck. Martin rummaged through the pile for himself and picked up an orange pill bottle. Tramadol. Well, that ain't nothing. True, Ray said.

Not as good as it could be, considerate. I hope it's worth something, Martin said. I'd hate it if the old bitch got her head blown off for nothing. Martin fell asleep. The beer got to his empty belly, and he passed out on one of the motel beds with reruns of Bonanza, still playing on the TV. Ray snuck into the bathroom, and closed the door. He flipped the light switch on and then slid the aluminum packet of sunlight pills out of his pocket. The pack was crinkled, but largely preserved.

He turned it over and looked through it to see if any of the capsules had burst, but nothing had, as far as he could tell. He tried to read the back again. Nothing. Ray frowned and punched the round plastic bubbles in with his thumbs. You only live once, right? The pill popped out of the paper backing and into his hand, bright, like an LED headlight.

He held it up between his thumb and forefinger, and tried to stare at the yellow liquid sloshing around inside the clear capsule. But he had to look away when his eyes started to burn again. Curiosity got the better of him. Ray reached over and flicked off the light, casting the entire bathroom into cool darkness. The pill between his fingers was warm, only slightly, and it lit up the room like a small flashlight. He wasn't sure how that was supposed to work, but he wasn't going to ask questions. For some reason, it made him nervous. Ray flipped the light back on.

What harm could there be in trying it? Hell, he had done worse. He smoked and knocked back pills from places. He didn't even know how to pronounce. He was used to taking whatever care. Harry handed him. In her words, they were samples, and Martin could swear by a good off-brand riddlin. Ray never saw himself as much of a junkie, but sometimes it was good to take the edge off, especially when you hadn't eaten all day. Well, what the hell? Down the hatch. Ray popped one

into his mouth and swallowed it with a handful of sink water. It didn't hit immediately. He decided to go back to his own twin bed and watch Bonanza until the colors started running, or until the world faded to black, whatever came first. The bed creaked when he laid down. He tried not to think about how itchy the sheets made him, because he didn't want to deal with bedbugs or anything like that. Ray focused on the TV and watched Bonanza turn into the love boat. Eventually, he started getting warm.

Ray slipped off his jacket and tucked it behind his back for a little extra support. The pillows in this place were thin as shit anyway. He watched waves moving across the screen, and he swore that he could hear them. It was a dull roar, like holding a seashell up to his ear, but it was there. A warm, tropical breeze brushed over his cheeks. Maybe the air conditioning kicked on or something. He swore that he could smell the salt water, and for half a second, he felt transported to the shitty beach hotels of his youth.

The days he had spent with his grandparents tracking sand in and out and then washing it all off in the pool at the end of the day. It smelled like seashells stacked in buckets and upside-down ice cream cones. Those were the days. Ray smiled slightly. Whatever kind of hallucination this was, he could easily do. dig it. He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his hands underneath his armpits, eventually nodding off to sleep.

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responsible. The conditions apply. Morning piss, pot. Martin jostled Ray's shoulder. Ray opened his eyes and looked up. Taking immediate note of how the usual groginess

was non-existent. In fact, he had slept better than he had in months. Ray stretched his arms above his head and looked around. A little bit of that salt-flavored air lingered on the back of his tongue, and he swabbed his cheeks for the rest of it. He already missed that nice breeze. The air was back to smelling like mold and old pizza.

I think I know where I can score us some real food, Martin said. He flung a honeybun into the air, and it landed squarely in Ray's lap. At first, your continental breakfast, courtesy of the Pink Elephant Motel. Thanks. He ripped open the plastic that They kept his breakfast captive and sank his teeth into the wet, stale bread. Where are we going to eat? Carrie said she's going to be at the Waffle House on Maine. Said if we scored good, she'd spot us. Did you tell her we didn't score shit?

Nah, I figured we could toss some of these pills into an old Vicodin bottle and see where that gets us. Worth a shot, Ray said. He wasn't going to stop Martin from trying. As long as his cohort didn't try to shift. the blame onto Ray at the last second if Carrie got really pissed. Martin jostled him again. We're wasting daylight. Ray glanced at the clock at the side of the bed. It was only eight in the morning. Somehow, he still felt fresher than a daisy. He rolled off the side of the bed and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck and waving his free hand at Martin. I'll be out there in a sec, he said.

His thoughts went immediately to his newfound medication, and he made sure to grab his jacket. I have to take a piss. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door, making sure it was locked. He jiggled the handle to be sure that it wouldn't come open with just a nudge. It wasn't that he didn't trust Martin. It was just that he didn't want to share. And by rights, he shouldn't have to. He had found the pills, after all.

They made him feel good. Hell, they made him feel great. Martin wouldn't know what to do with himself if he felt that good. Everything was better off in Ray's hands. He couldn't read any dosage information, and he'd lost the paper box it came in. That didn't matter, probably. It wasn't an opiate, so he was going to be fine. And if one made him feel like that, how nice would two be?

There was only one way to find out. Ray flipped the packet over so he didn't find himself staring into the bright lights, and then punched out two through the back. He placed them both on his tongue and then swallowed, flushing the toilet to make it sound like he had pissed, and then stuck his face under the sink faucet to wash the pills down. They worked a lot faster than they had the first time. Maybe that was because they were already in his system,

but he felt amazing. He could already smell that salt air again. That was its own sort of high. Ray splashed two handfuls of water on his face, and wicked it through his hair, taking a glance at himself in the mirror that was above the sink. His cheeks were flushed, and he couldn't help but notice that his skin looked much clearer than the day before. No more scabs and pimples along his hairline, and in the creases around his nose.

No more little sunken pits around his upper lip underneath his dark five o'clock shadow. He scrubbed at his chin, flashing himself a smile and straightened his back. Martin couldn't say shit to him today. He was looking good and feeling like a million bucks. Carrie would probably ask him for his number. By noon, Ray's appetite had dwindled, and the smell of salt air was making his stomach churn. He found himself staring down at a syrup-soaked waffle without much appetite. Gary and Martin were yacking it up.

Ray wasn't sure that she had bought the whole mysterious white pill and an empty bottle of Vicodin thing, but she hadn't pulled out her Glock and blown two holes into Martin's head. So things were going better than expected. Ray wished he had an appetite. He really did. But his chest was burning like he had downed half a bottle of hot sauce and two double cheeseburgers on top of that. He rubbed his jacket pocket, feeling the pack pressed up against his side through the

lining. He thought about those sunlight pills. Maybe he should take more. He wondered if Martin or Kerry could see the glow through the fabric. Then he wondered if either of them would say anything, if they did. He could run to the bathroom and pop another one. Or maybe he should wait. Maybe it was all because he hadn't eaten much, or that honeybun had gone bad and was trying its best to do him in. There was no telling. He moved the waffle around on his plate. cutting half of it into bite-sized pieces, and forcing himself to shovel a few into his mouth. It wasn't worth it. It felt like cement sliding down his throat.

Ray set his fork down on his plate and slid his chair back. Carrie looked up only briefly, and Martin didn't glance his way at all. I'm going to the bathroom, Ray muttered. Carrie waved him off and he started trudging in that direction. The whole way there, he felt like he was. was going to throw up. But as soon as he hit the door, it turned into something else. The waffle plummeted into the bottom of his stomach and barreled into his intestines. The immediate cramp and intense blowout mounted in his gut, and he threw himself down

onto the toilet with barely enough time to rip down his pants. Ray groaned and stuck his head between his legs. He wasn't religious, but he could be if that was what it took to end the pain. His head spun. Ray rubbed his temples and stayed hunched on the toilet for what felt like hours. Eventually, there was a heavy fist pounding on the door. It was an unfamiliar voice. You all right in there? Fine.

Ray choked out. His voice sounded strangled. Listen, you've been in there a while. If you're using anything, nope. Ray grinded his teeth. Just taking an enormous dump. Christ, the voice on the other side said. I'll call the hospital if you need me to.

All that did was add humiliation to the top of his pain. Ray forced himself to wrap it up and humbled out after a few more moments, looking like a hanged dog, while walking past the counter, where a few employees stared back at him. Martin was smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk when Ray walked back out. You were gone forever. forever. I thought you had died. I think the manager thought you were shooting dope. I wish. Let's go back to the motel. I need to lie down. By sunset, Ray was feeling a little bit

better. Some flashes of hot and cold had subsided, and his bowels stopped cramping, but the idea of eating still made him want to throw up. He fished the sunlight pills out of his pocket and held them up again, punching his fingers against the plastic domes as he debated taking even more. The rush that came with them when he first swallowed was second to none. It was like being on a tropical island, basking in the sun and feeling the wind to slide off the surface of the water. If he could just set himself up in a hammock, it didn't matter how shitty his surroundings were. He would feel like a millionaire.

But then, that crash was something. else. He still wasn't sure if it was entirely the pills' fault, but there really wasn't any way to know, unless he tried to take them again. And maybe if he took three instead of two, it would stave off the crash. He punched out three more pills and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed them dry, not confident in his ability to get up and go get some water. Instantly, he was hit with that feeling of being back at the beach. It was like being submerged in cool, rolling waves off a sunny coast with a tropical breeze sliding underneath his nose. Ray inhaled deeply. His stomach already felt a little better. Oh yeah, this was the medicine. He sat up and found he had the strength

to go get himself a beer from the mini fridge. He popped the tab and took a big swig. Just like being on a goddamn private island. It was three in the morning, and Ray was up again. This time, it was more than heartburn. It felt like his whole gut was on fire. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and quarter-sized droplets. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, rolling over onto his side. There was a human-sized sweat print left behind on the sheets where he had been sleeping. Ray dragged his hand across his mouth, and he had been sleeping. Ray dragged his hand across his mouth and licked his lips. They were dry and splitting, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Only if he did, he was afraid his whole stomach would come up with it. Stomach,

liver, and kidneys. God, his kidneys hurt. His whole back felt like he was going to give out if he so much has tried to stand. His kidneys felt like someone wearing steel cleats was digging their heels into his lower back. Ray curled up into himself and grinded his teeth, fighting back the pain and doing his best to fall asleep. He groaned and dug his fingertips into his gut, trying to fight pain with a different kind of pain by scraping his skin with his nails. Nothing helped. He didn't want to wake up Martin, but someone would have to call an ambulance if this got much worse, and he wasn't sure he could even get out words to tell an operator. or where they were. An ambulance? Who could afford that? He was high as shit, clearly, so he wasn't

thinking. Ray rooted around the bed and tried to look for the pack that was stashed inside his jacket. He started to panic when he couldn't find it at first, but then he saw the pills shining through his pocket lining, and he almost tore the jacket apart to get to them. The pills, the pills would fix everything. They would put him back on that sunny, beautiful beach in his head. They would make him feel like a million bucks all over again. Those glorious, amazing, beautiful pills, bright as sunlight. If he could just swallow them down and keep them down, his arm-mitched, Ray clawed at his skin until layers peeled up underneath his nails. He punched out three more pills and popped them into his mouth,

gagging as he swallowed them down. Sunlight, one more dose of sun. But he was running low, and he had no idea where he was going to start getting his next fix when the packet was gone. Jeremy Withers woke up to a crash coming from his living room. It disturbed him enough that he threw off his blanket and grabbed the Winchester rifle that he kept above his bed. It didn't really work. It was all for show, but it was usually enough to scare off any burglars. He crept down the hall and into his living room. keeping the gun level while looking around for any sign of intruders.

Except his eyes weren't what they used to be, and his thick prescription glasses made it hard to catch sight of anything in his peripherals. So he didn't notice when a bat came swinging out of nowhere and clipped him on the shoulder, and pain rocketed up to his neck. Jeremy staggered back, dropping his gun, and collapsed against the hallway wall. Do you have it? Man's voice snarled. Jeremy could see just well enough to make out the face that was barely inches away from his.

A face that was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, with eyes so large and bloodshot that they were nearly bugging out of the intruder's head. I don't have anything. What are you talking about? I know you have it. The bat slammed into the wall above his head. This is the fourth goddamn apartment I've hit. I need it. Give it to me. I don't have it.

Jeremy's panic wrung the words out of his throat with a feeble squeak. Yes, you do! The bat hit the wall again, and white plaster rained down onto the old man's face. I'm going to search your cabinet's old man, and you better hope that I find what I'm looking for. What are you looking for? I need the sun! The intruder screamed. Jeremy stared at him, baffled, and the intruder backed away from him.

The light was on in the kitchen, and had caught the man at just. the right angle. He was hunched over, and his face was bright red like a lobster. There were ugly purple blisters covering his skin, and where his shoulders were exposed from his wife beater, his skin was peeling up in thick, ugly chunks. Whatever had happened to him, he looked like he had more than enough sun. "'It's burning,' the intruder said, and this time his voice dropped down to almost a whimper. "'It's all burning. My liver.' My fucking kidneys, my lungs. He gripped his bat so hard that his hands shook.

Can you see this shit on my face? I need my fucking pills. So give me the sun. I know you have it. I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about. His words were cut off suddenly. As the bat came swinging through the air and knocked his jaw out of his place.

There was a loud crunch and blood sprayed onto the wall opposite. Jeremy saw the bat go up again, and then his world went completely black. There would be no more sun for him either. SCP 2022 are gelatin capsules that compress and constantly emit electromagnetic energies similar to sunlight and contain other unknown active ingredients, two of which are labeled Lumen and Kelvin, based on the packaging. How the capsules are able to compress and contain sunlight into a measure of and administrative form are currently unknown,

with chemical analysis of the compounds used in synthesizing the drug, yielding no results. Ingested orally, one dose of SCP 2022 steadily supplies the body with healthy, daily amounts of vitamin D for up to an average of 16 months. Subjects taking the supplement have reported feeling a gentle, tropical breeze, scents of seawater, faint sounds of crashing waves,

and a pleasant warmth within their bodies that fluctuate in intensity coinciding with the time of day. Although the sensation varies depending on the subject's skin pigmentation level and the brand of supplement taken. Increased bone health, skin complexion, and hair growth, along with significant decrease in infectious and autoimmune diseases, have also been documented. But these results remain under further investigation. SCP 2022's effects accumulate exponentially, with each dosage taken consecutively, increasing the effects as well as introducing various other hazardous and anomalous effects. Overuse of the supplements increase the sensation, with the test group experiencing

increased burning sensations in organs, development of photosensitivity, sunburn, inflammation, dim to intense bioluminescence, hypervitaminosis D, vomiting, nausea, dehydration, decreased appetite, insomnia, constipation, fatigue, irritability, myasthenia, and metastatic calcification. Other severe cases have reported various forms of cancer, large kidney stones, hypercalcemia, zero-derma, actinic keratosis, polymorphous light eruption, cataracts, macularis, macular Degeneration, Immune Suppression, Abnormal Vascular Functionality, Solar Elastosis, first to third degree internal and external burns, and invisibility from the visible spectrum.