The SCP Experience - The Bear With a Heart of Patchwork | SCP-2295

Episode Date: October 11, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-2295 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2295 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Cyrus S. * * * 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

Lazang sur-gillet, and thence-molyne for 15 minutes. Oh, you're like it's the hour Dojo? Prere to play? Vive the pleasure

with the Ojo. The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-a-sou and the games to on Big Bas-Bonanza.

Without exigance of mischief, and with the payments instantane. Hey, I've gained! Woohoo!

Sentire the pleasure. Play-O-Jo. 18-10 and plus, 1-Depos only depose only depose only depo in Ontario. 50 tours on the machine

to buyus $1 billion of 10 dollars. Veillet she made a way the face in a responsible. The conditions apply. The outside of the hospital room was not as bad as the inside. There was more to look at. Carrie found herself staring at the cork board hanging on the wall

where different photos of the staff with their pets had been stuck on with red and blue capped push pins. Every now and then, a cart would roll by propelled by white sneakers and pale blue scrubs. It smelled like bleach, like high-grade hand sanitizer, and faintly like rubber. Carrie kept her elbows resting on her knees and her chin in her hands. Staring straight ahead at a white textured wall was still better than looking behind her.

If she turned around, she would be able to see straight through the dark window into her cousin's hospital room. The 13-year-old girl had been hit by a car and survived it, but just barely. Her brain was swelling, and at this rate, the doctors weren't sure that anything could be done to stop it. Carrie had been sitting with her until she decided she couldn't stand it any longer. The rest of the family was on their way, but they were running out of time to make it. If Harper started to slip away, Carrie wanted to be there by the bedside, holding her hand. But standing there was too hard. Breathing in the harsh, sterilized air, and listening to the soft hiss of an oxygen tank,

perfectly in sync with the beeping heart monitor made her stomach hurt. Harper didn't look anything like herself. She practically lived on the soccer field, and the sun loved her. But now her tan skin looked pale yellow, and there were dark circles under her eyes the same shade as berry lipstick. Her blonde hair was like straw, and every time the oxygen tank shot air up her nose, her short exhale rattled past her dry lips. The whole top left of her head was unrecognizable. Her skull looked like rising dough that had been punched down.

It was a miracle she was alive, but only in the sense that now her family had a chance to say goodbye. Carrie rubbed her face again. She wanted coffee more than anything. A real coffee, not the bitter drip they sold in the hospital cafeteria. She wanted to go home and curl up in her bed and pretend like none of this was real. if only that was an actual option.

Carrie glanced at her phone to see if she had any missed calls. Nothing. She figured her sister was stuck in a dead zone on her way back, worried, sick. She told herself that that was the reason, and that it wasn't because her sister didn't care. I thought you could use this. A pair of white sneakers stopped in front of Carrie. She looked up and a paper cup wrapped in a thin black sleeve.

eclipsed her vision. Thank you, she said, nodding at the nurse who handed her the cup. The nurse gave her a small, sympathetic-looking smile. It isn't much, she said. But my shift's over, and I wanted to wish you good luck. The nurse looked over Carrie's head at the window leading into the hospital room. I brought something for Harper, too. That is nice of you, Carrie said.

She resisted the urge to add, even though she's unconscious. She kept her hands against the side of her cup and blew into the little hole punched into the raised lip of the plastic lid. Did you get her a coffee too? The nurse looked down at Carrie with her brows crunched up. No, she said.

She held up a white plastic bag that looked like it could have come from the gift shop near the entrance. Carrie blushed and sipped on her coffee. It burned the hell out of her tongue, but she supposed that she deserved that. She said, That was nice of you. Do you mind if I put it in there?

The nurse asked. Carrie held out her hand. I'll take it to her. She said. I need to go back in. She didn't want to, but she had to, eventually. She couldn't let Harper sit in there by herself, especially when Carrie couldn't get a hold of the girl's mother.

Of course. The nurse passed the bag over. Carrie hooked two fingers through the plastic bag and accepted it. The bag was a little heavier than it looked. The nurse stepped back and put her hands in her scrub's pockets. I'll see the two of you tomorrow, she said. Carrie didn't have anything else to say. She just nodded, and the nurse started walking down the hall.

Carrie blew on her coffee and sipped it again. She set the bag down between her feet and moved the edges back to peep inside. She caught sight of something pink, which was good enough for her. Harper loved pink. Carrie plunged her hand into the bag and grabbed hold of what was inside. It was plush in a dense way, and it had to be weighted. At least, that was what it felt like as she pulled it out completely. When she finally shook the bag off, she saw that it was a bear.

The bear itself was made of cotton, and looked like it had been purposeful. like it had been purposefully sewn together in a patchwork style where the different fabrics were white, pink, and light brown. Some of the fabrics had different patterns, others were completely solid. There was a pastel pink bow wrapped around its neck, and on its chest there was an anatomically correct heart pinned in place. Carrie held it in her free hand and cradled it while she sipped her coffee, which tasted bitter and burnt now that it had cooled.

down. She didn't mind too much, though. The gesture was really sweet, especially coming from a stranger. Looking at the bear made her tear up. Harper would have probably said that she was too old for stuffed animals, but she had only been 13 for a couple of months. Carrie pressed the bear against her chest and squeezed it tightly. She finished off her coffee and then crunched in the sides, tossing the whole thing into a trash bin only a few feet away. Carrie picked up the bag and adjusted the bear in her arms before turning around to walk back into Harper's hospital room. Inside the hospital room, it was completely dark,

except for the light coming in from the hallway. Carrie shut the door and turned on the overhead lights. The ghoulish fluorescence washed out Harper completely in a way that made her look paler than pale. It made her bruises look more vivid, and her hair looked like it didn't even belong on her head. Carrie wasn't sure if her niece had already looked that bad, or if she had gotten worse in the few short hours that Carrie had been sitting in the hallway. She tossed the bag onto a chair, and then set the patchwork teddy bear on top of Harper's lap.

The weighted beads on the bottom meant it stayed upright with its stitched-on black eyes, staring at her niece in the face. Tears burned Carrie's eyes again, and she turned away. They spilled over and raced down her cheek, and she couldn't do anything to stop them. She dashed them away with her fingers and then looked back at the hospital bed. It was a relief to have something to look at that wasn't Harper. The bear was a nice distraction. Carrie hugged herself and sniffed hard enough that her nostrils vibrated.

She choked on another sob after that, and said, sat down in the hospital chair. The plastic bag crinkled underneath her because she hadn't bothered to remove it. Carrie kept her eyes on the bear as she rested her cheek against her hand and let her lids slowly sink down. She didn't even feel herself falling asleep.

She was just out like a light, and Carrie opened her eyes again. The overhead light was off. She assumed that the night shift nurse had come in, checked Harper's vitals, and turned off the lights as she exited. Carrie glanced down at her phone to check the time. Three o'clock in the morning.

No texts from her sister and her battery was flashing a warning that it had reached below 5%. She stood up to look for her purse where she had stashed her phone charger. After several minutes of looking, she finally found it and got herself all plugged up. When she turned back towards the hospital bed, something was different.

She remembered placing the bear on Harper's lap, but now it was sitting closer to the center of her chest. No big deal, she figured. It might have fallen, and the nurse might have put it back. Carrie didn't like the bear sitting there, though. She wanted absolutely nothing at all to have a chance of impeding Harper's breath. Carrie picked up the bear by the screff of the neck and hauled it back down to her niece's legs. She paused long enough to linger over Harper's face, not looking too hard, but brushing a few stray blonde strands away from her vainy, closed eyelids. Carrie swallowed hard and then sat back down.

She closed her eyes again because it hurt too much to try and focus in the weak light. She massaged her sore, throbbing temples with one hand, and sleep claimed her yet again. When she woke up the second time, she had no idea what time it was. The bear was sitting on Harper's chest again, but nothing else seemed to have changed. Annoyed, Carrie braced herself against the arms of the chair to push herself back up. Except she couldn't stand. As soon as she tried, her entire spine burned, and it was like her legs had suddenly turned to lead. There was nothing she could do to pull herself.

out of the seat. She was stuck. Carrie thought about screaming, but she was too afraid. She wasn't sure why. She just had this feeling that she shouldn't. Like if she started screaming, something very bad would happen. She could still move her head in most of her torso. When Carrie looked at the bear again, she saw that its head had rotated and it was staring right back at her. Still, she couldn't bring herself to scream. Carrie swallowed her scream and kept staring. She didn't move. She didn't blink.

The bear finally turned its head back towards Harper. Carrie couldn't believe what she was seeing. There was no way that the bear was moving on its own. She concluded that she had to be dreaming, that this was some sort of sleep paralysis, and she just had to wait it out. Then one of the bear's arms moved. It raised its arm to its mouth and began to pull back.

There was a little metal gleam as the bear pulled out a dark green sewing needle from its mouth. Its other stuffed arm pulled a pair of shears out of thin air and then a spool of white thread. It wasn't clear how the stuffed animal managed to thread the needle, but she saw it all begin to form in front of her eyes. Everything looked like it was floating through the air, manipulated by invisible fingers. The bear kept its face turned towards Harper, and Carrie couldn't tell if that was better or worse than a little.

having it face her. It is a nightmare. She kept telling herself. It is only a nightmare. And yet, her heart was racing in her throat. The bear inched itself a little further up Harper's chest, and this time, Carrie tried to scream. She couldn't.

No sound came out of her mouth. It stopped short, and was more of a squeak or a whimper than it was anything else. Something began forming in front of the bear. Carrie couldn't quite make out what it was at first. It started to grow, and then it formed ridges and lumps. She didn't see what it was until all the sides began to fill, and the stuffing seemed to be coming from the bear's stomach. Finally, the light from the hallway caught the object,

and she could see that it was a brain. The bear turned it over with the use of its stubby paws, looking for the world like it was studying the peace intently. Finally, the bear sat the patched, twerk brain down on top of Harper's chest. It was made out of all the same fabrics as the bear itself, and when it moved around, it sounded like it had beads sitting in the bottom as well.

Harper's monitor started beeping faster. Carrie's heart fluttered in her chest, and she tried to stand up again. Her back burned, but she kept pushing through. Her bottom might as well have been glued to the chair, and all she got out of the attempt was a whimper of agony. Harper's head came up. and for half a second she was just a dark silhouette against the hospital window. Carrie's mouth went dry, and she watched her niece, awake for the first time in almost 24 hours,

stare at the stuffed bear that was sitting on her chest. Harper didn't say a word. It felt like an eternity passed. Then the bear disappeared. As soon as it was gone, Harper's head dropped back to its pillow, and her monitor let out one long, continuous beep. Carrie was finally able to scream. She ripped herself away from the chair and threw herself at Harper's hospital bed. At the same time, the door flew open

and three nurses poured in. One of them urged Carrie to step back as the other two started checking the machines and taking the young girl's vitals. Carrie wanted to sob, but her eyes were so dry they were like sandpaper. It was as if she hadn't blinked at all while the bear had been sewing the patchwork organ.

Listen to me! Carrie pleaded with them. Her voice sounded raspy, and she could barely hear herself. Listen to me! It was a... She couldn't even make herself say it. She sounded crazy. They weren't paying attention to her anyway. Carrie staggered back another step

and fell into the chair where she had been sleeping. She watched, helplessly, as the nurses worked to revive her niece. Everything was falling apart before her. her eyes. When Dawn returned, Harper was awake again. Even though her flatline had not even lasted a full minute, Carrie remembered how it had felt like hours. The nurses sent her out so they could run some tests. But seeing her niece's eyes open and moving around, hearing her voice as they asked her questions about the year and what school she went to,

was enough to make Carrie want to collapse with relief. Carrie walked herself down to the cafeteria in search of some coffee and breakfast. There wasn't much, so she ended up grabbing a snack cake and set herself down in the farther corner near the window that faced the hall. She unwrapped her cake, but only nibbled on it. She couldn't stop thinking about everything she had seen. The doctor said that Harper's recovery was miraculous. It was, like she had been given an entirely new brain. Carrie didn't even know how to explain to him everything she she had seen. She knew he wouldn't believe her anyway. No one would, but she knew what had happened. She didn't think it was a dream anymore. It couldn't be. Something white caught Carrie's eye,

and she turned her head just in time to notice a white bag swinging from someone's fingertips as they passed the cafeteria. The person looked just like the nurse who had handed Carrie the bear the day before. Carrie jumped to her feet and dashed over to the nearest door. She swung it open and stuck her head out, waiting for the nurse to come up a little closer so she didn't have to shout. Thank you! Carrie called out to her. The nurse didn't slow, but she blinked and gave Carrie another soft, sympathetic smile.

For what? The nurse asked. Carrie was dumbfounded. You know? She pointed at the bag the nurse was carrying. You have to know. The nurse raised a dark eyebrow and held up her bag. This?

She asked. This is a present for a little girl in the heart ward. No, Carrie said. I mean, that is great, but you don't understand. Your bear saved my niece's life. I don't know how, but... She stopped herself. She couldn't even tolerate her own babbling.

It sounded nuts. The nurse's smile widened a bit, but it looked no less placating. I am glad to hear that, hon. She said. I really hope that everything turns out for the best. It will. Carrie's heart was thumping again. She rested her hand against her chest to try and slow it down.

She's doing much better now. She's awake again. Can you believe it? She wanted to add. Her mother is going to be so thrilled. But she didn't. The nurse walked past her, and Carrie watched the bag swing from her bent fingers. Sometimes a little love is all we need.

The nurse said, Dad, I think you're right. As the nurse continued on, She called out as an afterthought. Do they sell those in the gift shop? How come more people don't know about this? The nurse paused and glanced over her shoulder. She opened her mouth like she was going to try and explain.

But then she must have decided not to. She simply smiled again, and then she placed a single finger against her lips before she turned back to face the hall and kept walking. Through the stretched white plastic, Carrie caught just a glimpse of pink. 2.95 is a patchwork stuffed bear, approximately 0.46 meters from head to foot, and stuffed with synthetic fiber in cotton.

SCP 2295 has a small, anatomically correct pin of a heart on the left side of its thorax, and a bow wrapped around its neck. The fabric and color of SCP 2295's patches vary. Tests confirm that no components of SCP 2295 contain any anomalous chemical property. SCP 2295 enters an active state when within two meters of a human, sustaining major trauma to an organ. When in the proximity of two or more possible subjects, SCP 2295 will invariably choose the youngest subject.

SCP 2295 will anomalously produce scissors, white thread, and either sewing needles or a crocheting hook from its mouth, and use any fabric and stuffing in close proximity. to fashion an instance of SCP 2295-1, a patchwork imitation of the subject's organ. SCP 2295-1 vanishes from sight, and the subject falls into a state of unconsciousness. SCP 2295-1 instances then replace the subject's damaged organ via anomalous means. The whereabouts of organs replaced this way are undetermined.

If there is no usable material in close proximity, SCP 2295 will use fabric and stuffing from itself. SCP 2295 regenerates one gram of stuffing every day until completely replacing any lost or used stuffing. Note that fabric used this way does not regenerate, and additional fabric must be placed near SCP 2295 for the purpose of self-mending. Instances of SCP 2295-1 successfully carry out their respective functions despite the numerous expected biological, chemical, and medical incompatibilities.

Once within the subject, adjacent tissues and veins attach to the imitated organ without observable complications. There have been no cases of rejected SCP-295-1 instances, and all subjects recorded at the time of writing made full recoveries.