The SCP Experience - The Frankenstein Tower | SCP-2016

Episode Date: May 30, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2016: The Frankenstein Tower This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2016, 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 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

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The footage is fuzzy. Rainbow-colored lines of interference traverse the window on my laptop screen. This prompts me to hunch over, moving closer to the screen as I squint my eyes. Not that it will help. The video is of a bedroom, my dad's bedroom.

I can make out bits of furniture underneath and between the lines of interference. Like the foot of my dad's bed and the dresser adjacent. What I can't seem to get a good glimpse of is the figure that moves into frame, stalking toward my dad as he sleeps in his bed. At least, I think, it's a figure. The brief glimpses I get suggest it's a man with the beard.

I rewind the video for the third time, going back to before the footage goes fuzzy. The video starts with my father coming into the room, prompting the motion sensor camera to start recording. He gets ready for bed, then slides under the covers, turning off the light next to his bed. The camera automatically switches to night vision mode, giving everything a ghostly, greenish tint. Once my father settles in and falls asleep, the footage jumps ahead because the camera stopped recording. The gentle rise and fall of my dad's chest apparently was not enough to keep the motion sensor camera recording. There's a strange flash of light from off-screen to the right,

enough for the camera to start recording again. A moment later, the footage goes fuzzy. And as I re-watch the video, I'm convinced I see a tall man with strange clothing and a beard walking toward my father's sleeping body. The man, who I now think of as bringing the interference with him, seems to stop by my father's bed. I watch closely, pausing and unpausing the video to see if I can get a clear view of what the man does on the recording.

There is no doubt in my mind that he killed my father. But I can't imagine how, or where he came from. The only door into the room is in full view of the camera, and it doesn't open before the strange man comes in. There is a window off to the right, but the police found it locked. Plus, the bedroom is on the second floor, and there's no easy way to get to the window except on a ladder. But there was no sign that a ladder was placed on the moist earth below the window. Through the fuzz, I think I see my father's body convulse and...

Vomit? No, that's not right. The stuff that seems to come out of his mouth looks more like a cloud of vapor. I shake my head. I'm seeing things in the fuzz that aren't there. I need to take a break. Standing up, I think about how the medical examiner ruled that his death was from natural causes. What causes? I asked.

They didn't know. All they told me is that there was no sign of foul play. Why did you set up a camera in your room, Dad? I say to myself, I'm in my father's house, standing at the dining room table. My mom died years ago, and I'm an only child. So it falls to me to handle everything, but I can't seem to focus on funeral arrangements when I'm convinced my dad has been murdered. He's only 62.

Was only 62. That seems a little young to die out of nowhere of natural causes, especially since he'd just had his yearly physical a couple of months ago. No problems, the doctor had said. None. The police saw the video. They're the ones that released it to me after his cause of death was official. They say the static certainly looks like a person, but with no foul play and no forced entry, there's no murder.

I walk back upstairs to look at the other thing I can't explain. It's a chalk drawing of a doorway on my father's bedroom wall, very basic, just a rectangle with a small circle for the door handle. It's hard to see since the chalk is white, and the wall is painted off white, but it's there. And it's on the side of the room where the strange light appeared in the video, and where the bearded man appeared moments later. It's no coincidence.

After staring at the chalk door for a minute, I sigh and move out into the hallway. As I head back toward the stairs, my eye catches the attic hatch in the ceiling. A nylon string with a plastic handle hangs down. Might as well. I think. It's the only place I haven't checked yet. Checked for what? I couldn't say. But I feel it needs to be done. I'm going to have to go through all this stuff eventually anyway. So I reach overhead and pull on the

string. The hinges groan as the hatch comes down. I fold down the wooden stairs and head up into the attic. I don't know what I was expecting to find. There are boxes filled with old clothes, photographs, keepsakes, and random items from a life well-lived. I spend about half an hour opening up boxes, diving into my father's life and by proxy my own. I come to an old chest, disengaging the metal latch at the front. The first thing I see as I open it is a little stuffed doll. My heart does an irregular tap dance in my throat at the sight of it. It looks like a wizard from some fantasy movie. It has a cottony beard and dark green robes. The only thing it's missing is a pointed hat. And it looks like the man I saw through the fuzz on the video footage. After pulling the

plush doll out, I look around in the chest for anything that might be of use, but I find nothing, just random odds and ends. I leave the attic, bringing the doll down with me. It means something. I just don't know what. As I force my dinner down, I stare at the doll where it sits on the table in front of me. It stares back with unseeing button eyes. It's clear to me that the doll was handmade with great care. Other than this, I glean nothing from it. No secrets.

No reasons why my father is mysteriously dead. After dinner, I lay down in the guest room, the doll on the dresser nearby. It's the key to this thing. I can feel it in my gut. At some point, I fall asleep, and I dream. In my dream, the bearded man appears next to my bed. He doesn't say anything, but he gestures to the wall, holding out a piece of chalk to me.

Somehow, I know this is more than a dream. The pieces start to come together. I get out of bed and take the chalk from the man. He seems kind enough, Although I have nothing to base that on, I should be wary of him, I should suspect him, but his slate-colored eyes and grandfatherly demeanor seem to overpower any suspicion I have. So I take the chalk from him and draw a door on the wall as he steps aside, nodding his encouragement. Once I'm done, I turn to him to see if he's happy with my drawing, but he's gone.

I look around the room, but he's nowhere to be found. and when I look back at the drawing, it has transformed into an actual door. I'm wearing pajama bottoms and put the chalk in my pocket. I'm about to open the door when I think of the doll. Moving quickly over to the dresser, I grab the doll and head back to the door. The golden knob feels real in my hand, and the sunlight that spills over me as I open the door feels just as authentic. Stepping through the door, I find myself in a meadow.

The warm wind reminds me of my childhood, and the rolling hills surrounding the wide meadow speak of an idyllic land only seen in paintings and storybooks. The only structure I can see is a large stone tower in the distance. It's where I need to go, so I walk. There's a note on the door at the base of a tower. It reads, to my new apprentice.

I turn the paper over and read the page of instructions detailing the different levels of the tower and what kind of research I'll be expected to do. Once I'm done reading, I look down at the doll still in my hand. Opening my other hand, I let go of the note.

A breeze takes it sailing through the air. I open the tower door and step inside. It's sparsely furnished, with books and strange, antiquated lab equipment placed on rough wooden tables and work benches. The note told me to go up and start my research in the library on the third floor. I glance at the winding staircase to my left, but I make no move toward it. I have an urge to return the doll to its rightful owner, to its maker. It seems much more important than the instructions on the note, which already

seem to be fading from my memory. A series of stones on the other side of the circular room catches my eye. A voice in my head tells me to go that way. It's a familiar voice, but not my own. It only takes me a moment to realize it's my father's voice. I move to the wall, past the bookshelves and work benches and equipment, and press on one of the stones. It's a secret door that opens inward. Behind it lies a staircase that leads down. I move down the smooth stone steps, my bare feet making hardly a sound. The stairs end in a smaller circular room, around which sit several coffins.

Old-fashioned flame lanterns and candles illuminate the space. On top of each coffin is a piece of parchment with notes about the dead person inside. I look for my father's name, but it's not there. He's not among these dead. My father's voice leads me to another secret passage and another set of stairs. As I make my way down, I hear movement below. The stone room is brightly lit with strange chemical lights, the likes of which I've never seen. There are several surgical tables

around the room, each with a corpse on it. The man with the gray beard and the green robes is leaning over a corpse at the far end of the room, muttering to himself, his back to me. I step forward, approaching the nearest corpse. It's a middle-aged woman with stringy blonde hair. Her eyes are closed, and her white skin holds a sickly shade of blue. Her eyes shoot open and stare up at me. A gasp, in surprise, unable to stop myself. The man with a gray beard straightens up and turns around.

His frightened eyes landing on me. What are you doing here? He asks, hurrying over to me. How did you find this place? You're not supposed to be here. Didn't you get my note? He rounds the table with the blonde woman on it and sees the doll in my hand. His doll, he freezes.

What have you done? He says, his voice high with fear. I hold the doll out to him. It's yours, I say. His eyes dart around the room. He shoves me aside, moving frantically toward the staircase. I hear a shriek come from up above. It's loud enough to make me wince.

I turn around and watch as the beard. The bearded man stops and backs into the room. From the darkness of the stairway come several large black creatures that look like wingless bats. They have long jointed arms that end in points. Their black legs are stubby, but they walk on all fours. Their bodies tilted upwards on their long arms. Their short snouts protrude under black eyes and over gaping mouths

with four long, sharp teeth. Their pointed ears move constantly, like satellite dishes searching for a signal. Four of these creatures surround the bearded man who looks at them with sheer terror. He quickly runs out of space, his back up against a wall. The creatures pause for a second,

looking up into his face. Then they attack, slashing at him with their pointed arms. The man screams out as their arms stab into his limbs, jerking him violently this way and that as they seem to fight over him. He hits the stone floor heart, blood spouting out of his wounds. The creatures shriek as they each chew use one spot in which to stab him repeatedly.

When they've made wounds to their liking, they clamp their mouths over them and drink. Although I don't feel as if I'm under threat, I run up the stairs anyway. I'm back on the first floor when I run into a man dressed in red robes. He's young and he doesn't have a beard. He smiles as he sees me. We've been looking for him for a long time, the man says to me. You've done a great service. He won't be able to harm anyone.

longer. My father, I say. Why did he? The question fades from my lips. If he died in your world, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do, the man says. Just take solace in the fact that the old man won't be able to perform his black magic on anyone else. He's done stealing away lives for his unethical experiments.

I nod, somehow expecting his answer. the hell is this place, I ask. The man shakes his head. It would take a very long time to explain that to you. Best if you just go home now. I look out the open doorway at the Golden Meadow. Off in the distance, I see the door I came through. I start past the man who puts a hand out to stop me. I'll be needing that, he says, pointing at the doll I forgot I was still carrying. Evidence. You understand. I nod again and hand him the doll. As I make my way back to the door in the meadow,

a great rumbling sound reaches my ears. I turn around and see the tower imploding, crumbling in on itself from the top down. The ground shakes for several long moments. When it stops, the tower is gone. There's nothing but an idyllic meadow surrounded by unmarred hills. Turning back around, I open the door and step in the door.

into the guest room in my father's house. As soon as the door shuts, it is no more. I'm standing with a hand over a circular chalk mark on the wall. I sit down on the bed, wondering what the hell just happened. And as I sit, I feel something in my pocket. I reach inside and see that it's the chalk the bearded man gave me. For a moment, I think about keeping it, maybe trying to go back to that place. Then I think about those creatures tearing the man apart. I break the chalk in half and throw it in the trash. SCP 2016-1 is a knitted doll resembling a human male with a long white beard and dark green robes. When humans enter REM sleep within three meters of the doll, they will experience

vivid dreams. In addition, subjects will also usually encounter SCP 2016-2, which appears as an elderly human male with the same appearance as SCP 2016-1. It is always capable of understanding the language spoken by the dreamer, though it is not capable of verbal communication. These dreams always end with SCP 2016-2, handing this subject a piece of chalk and monitoring the subject to piece of chalk and monitoring for the subject to draw a rectangle with a circle inside on the surface of the wall. If a subject attempts to draw the shape within seven days of having the dream, the drawing will transform into a door with a round handle. If the subject opens the door, it leads to an open meadow with a stone tower. There will be a paper attached to the tower's door saying,

to my new apprentice, in the subject's native language. The tower's floors contain several libraries and laboratories. All subjects who have used these facilities have died in their sleep within five years. The cause of death is unknown, but all subjects have been reported to release a gaseous mass from their mouths, which disappears seconds later. Video surveillance shows an elderly, translucent human male similar to SCP-2016-2, approaching the sleeping subjects and absorbing the gaseous mass into his hand.