The SCP Experience - The Hanging Tree | SCP-2125

Episode Date: August 1, 2022

SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-2125: The Hanging Tree This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2125, 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. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The oak tree towers over me, blotting out the sky. Its leafy branches seem to reach out, swaying in the breeze. I don't know what will happen when I get close to it, but I can't imagine it'll be good. I stop about five yards beyond the shadow of the nearest branch, looking at the strange vines that hang down all around. I've never seen vines like this on an oak tree before. Hell, I've never seen vines like this on any tree. They look alive, like snakes. I turned and gazed back at the trio of female researchers following me. They urge me on. One of them, the pretty one, smiles at me and nods,

signaling to me that it'll be okay. If I wasn't such a sucker for a pretty face, I'd tell them all to go screw themselves. Actually, it's not like I have much of a choice. Those of us in orange jumpsuits do what the researchers and security officers tell us. Still, if that woman asked me to pour boiling oil over my head, I'd have to think good and hard about it. And if she smiled while she asked, I'd probably go ahead and do it. So I turned back toward the tree and walk on, looking up at the strange vines.

None of the other trees in the area have vines like this. The surrounding forest seems normal at a glance. It's peaceful, a great place for a picnic. As I step into the shadow cast by the tree, I see two faded letters carved into the trunk, and A take another step forward. Something moves above me. I look up to see a vine whipping down toward my face. Flinching back on instinct does no good. The vine wraps around my yak and titans. It lifts me off the ground, as if I weigh as much as a sack of potatoes. My feet kick and my hands grasp ineffectually at the vine around my neck. Only it doesn't feel like a vine. It feels like a robe.

Panic explodes inside me. My thoughts jumbling together and shattering apart again as death strengthens his hold on me. A scratching sound catches my attention. I look down toward the tree trunk to see a young man carving something into the tree. The knife he carves with has a simple wooden handle and a well-used blade. I think to call out to him for help, to see if he can cut me down. But in the next moment, that thought disappears away. Everything seems right.

Memories of choking to death dissipate like morning fog under a hot sun. The boy wears dirty denim trousers held up with threadbare overalls. His light brown button-up cotton shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing tan forearms. His hair is the color of straw. Somehow, I know his eyes are brilliant green, although I can't see them. His trouser legs are tucked into worn and holy stovepipe boots. I look around just to see if I can.

Although I don't seem to have a body, I'm still able to shift my vision. I notice the mature oak tree looks smaller for some reason. I wonder for a moment if I'm dead, but holding onto that thought proves impossible. It floats away on a cool breeze that foretells the coming of fall. The boy suddenly jerks away from his work at the trunk of the tree, looking into the woods to his left.

I'm able to see the freshly carved letters A and D in the tree trunk. Noise catches my attention, and I look to see two young men coming out of the woods. Their clothing is clean and new, but of the same old-fashioned style as the blonde boys. Oh, Danny! One of them calls in a mocking tone. Danny stares at them for a moment, mumbling something to himself I can't make out.

Then he turns to run in the opposite direction, only to smack right into a third young man who clearly snuck up while his compatriots distracted the blonde boy. Where are you going? We want to talk to you, Danny, the third young man says, gripping Danny by the throat with one hand and by the wrist with the other.

Drop the knife, he says, twisting Danny's arm. Dan drops the knife. That's a good idiot, the man says, loosening his grip on Danny's throat. The other two converge on the pair, surrounding the blonde boy. All three other men look like brothers to me. They all have dark hair and plump faces. Their dark eyes all squint with the same cruel determination as they stare at Danny. They're probably a couple of years apart.

The one that snuck up on Danny looks to be in his late 20s. The other two can't be over 25. Danny looks to be 19 or 20. Although something about his behavior makes him seem younger. What are you doing here, Danny? The older one says. I'm going home, Paul. Danny says.

Going home now. You hear that, boys. He says he wants to go home. What do you think, John? Paul asks one of the other men. Oh, well if that's the case, John says theatrically, Let him go. Paul releases Danny while the other two snicker.

Danny steps away and then turns to look back. He smiles at them. It's a genuine smile. There's no mockery there. Just appreciation for letting him go. Okay, he says, I'm going home. Danny turns to walk away. But the youngest brother runs after him and shoves him hard, knocking him down.

The other two laugh. The youngest brother looks over at Paul for guidance. Paul nods and says, Get him, Will. Will smiles and then kicks Danny in the ribs. John comes up and starts stomping on him while Danny cries out for them to stop. He curls into a ball, but they still hit him good in the head and the kidness a few times. I try to call out to tell them to stop, but it's of no use.

I can't speak. It seems the only thing I can do is watch. Soon enough, Paul steps over and gets his brothers to stop kicking the poor guy. He leans down, grabs a handful of Danny's hair, and yanks his head back. You leave our sister alone, boy, Paul says, his voice full of venom. Annie don't want nothing to do with a half-wit like you. No more letters. No more sneaking around our house.

You hear me? If I see you around our house again? I'll kill you myself. Danny releases a pained whale. I want to go home. He sobs. Paul releases his hair and shoves his head down to the ground as he stands up. John and Will kick Danny once each of a good measure.

John spits on him before the three of them walk away. Danny stays on the ground, crying for several minutes. Then he gets up, grabs his knife, and walks off. It's getting dark by the time he gets to. a little shack amid a couple of small fields of withering crops. It's a one-room shack, with two beds on opposite ends of the room. One bed is on the floor in the corner, some of the straw stuffing, spilling out of its sides.

There's a man in the other bed, passed out drunk, an empty bottle tucked between his right arm and torso, like a cherished lover. Danny sits down at the rickety table in the middle of the room and writes a letter. It's as if I can hear the words as he writes them, although he doesn't say them out loud. Annie, I am so sad. I am missing you so much. I figure your paw and brothers have you locked up somewhere in your house, but I'm too scared to come get you.

I don't want to be beaten again, but I will come anyways. Your paw won't think I'm a no-good for you coward when I come and get you. I'll come and get you, and we will run. far away from here and get married till death do us part. It takes him about 15 minutes to write the letter, misspelling many of the words. When he's done, he sticks it in a trouser pocket and steps over to the sleeping man's bed. There's a gun belt hanging from a nail above the bed. Danny takes the revolver out of the holster while looking down at the snoring man.

Gun in hand, he heads back outside into the gloom. He walks back into the woods, past the oak tree, and down a path to a big, thriving farm. There are a few people around, finishing things up for the day, but he uses the cover of darkness to make his way to the massive two-story farmhouse. He crouches next to a window on the ground floor and looks inside at a small library. There are a couple of chairs in there, but both of them are empty. He stalks around the corner of the house and comes up to another window. Looking inside, he sees a pretty brunette girl about his age, cleaning vegetables in the kitchen.

It's Annie. He pulls the letter out of his pocket with his left hand. The gun, still held down by his side and his right. Just as he's about to knock on the window, a voice from the darkness behind stops him. God damn it, boy! The voice says. Danny whips around to see the patriarch, Clarence Anderson. standing with a couple of dead chickens in one hand.

Boys, get over here! Anderson shouts, making Danny wince. I'm taking Annie. Danny says, voice shaking. He steps away from the window and straightens his back, pulling the hammer on the pistol back, just like his paw taught him. We're in love.

I'm taking her to be my wife, till death do us part. Like hell you are. Anderson says, as his three sons come running from the barn on the other side of the house. He's got a gun, Paul. The youngest, William, says.

Paul and John stopped near their father, staring at Danny. Don't you think I got eyes, boy? Anderson growls. He ain't gonna use it. He may be his dull as dishwater. But he ain't stupid enough to use that thing. You're dead meat, you stupid son of a bitch. Paul says,

Now put that damn gun down. Now! A shadow falls across Danny as he stands in the light from the kitchen window. He turns, knowing it's Annie. drawn to the window by all the commotion. Their eyes meet as he looks over his shoulder. She stares out, surprise and fear written on her delicate features. There's movement ahead, and Danny whips his head back around, lifting the gun.

Anderson and Paul are rushing him, closing in. Danny squeezes the trigger, firing repeatedly. The thundering shots, cracking through the air and making him wince. He stops firing, the gun empty. Annie screams inside the house. Anderson looks down at the gaping hole in his chest and then over at his eldest son, who is now on the ground, missing half his skull.

Son of a bitch! Anderson says, before falling down himself. William and John, unscathed, look down at their kin. They start screaming and yelling, adding their voices to their sisters. Danny drops the gun and runs off into the night, his vision blurring with tears. He gets to the oak tree, breathing hard and mumbling to himself, saying he's sorry and he didn't mean it.

He settles down, directly under the A and the D carved into the trunk. He pulls out the letter he was going to give to Annie and a nub of a pencil. Struggling to see in the dark, he writes another letter to her on the back of the first one. He's just finishing the letter when the sound of men approaching suffuses the woodland. He stands there under the tree. waiting for the men with torches. There are a dozen of them, led by William and John Anderson. I want to go home, Danny says.

Standing up as the men approach, John punches him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. While he's dazed, William gets a noose around his neck as a third man throws the end of the rope over a tree branch. All the men in the group have hard, excited eyes. Their torches flicker and dance, matching the nervous energy coursing through the small. band of vigilantes. John and Williams stand Danny up while four other men pull on the rope, tightening the noose. Danny looks around, confused. Any last words, you murdering bastard? John says.

Danny opens his mouth to say something, but John signals the men to yank on the rope. They do, cutting off the boy's words. He jerks and swings at the end of the rope until his eyes bulge and turn red with pop on blood vessels. His face goes blue. They keep him suspended for a minute after he stops moving, just to make sure. Then they drop the rope. My feet hit the ground, followed by my ass, then my back. It's daylight outside as I stare up through the branches of the oak tree. It's bigger now, fuller.

Gasping for breath, I get onto all fours. I see a length of freshly cut vine nearby. Then, suddenly, people are grabbing my arms and dragging me. For a moment, I think it's the mob of vigil. But soon enough, I see that it's the female researchers. They get me out from under the tree. A woman with a step ladder and a pair of loppers follows. Good God.

How long was I up there? I asked, panting and rubbing my neck. Not long. Maybe 20, 30 seconds, the pretty one says. Her name is Delgado. That was insane. What happened? Did you see anything?

Delgado asks. I saw it all. I say, Good, Delgado says with a smile that makes me forget about the pain in my neck. Tell us everything. SCP 2125 is a white oak tree in a New York State Forest. It's 40 meters tall and has several branches that extend parallel to the ground. The longest of the branches is 35 meters.

The letters A and D are carved into its trunk. All of the tree branches are covered in an unknown species of vine that appears to be a different organism than the tree itself, though they terminate in its bark. The vines are wrapped around SCP 2125's branches and end in loops that hang off of the branches. The loops vary in diameter and are completely inactive until SCP 2125's anomalous properties manifest. When a human male enters the area beneath any branch of SCP 2125, A previously inanimate vine from a branch above will uncoil and seize him by wrapping its looped end around the male's neck. It will then lift the male and suspend him until he dies of asphyxiation.

After the subject is deceased, the vine will release the body and return to an inactive state. All testing done with human females caused no anomalous reaction from SCP 2125. A disused portion of a dirt trail leads to an unmarked grave beneath SCP 2125. Excavation of the grave site revealed the skeleton of a man aged 25 to 35 years, as well as a collection of badly damaged documents and a well-preserved noose. The documents and noose were protected from complete decomposition by a closed metal box. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-molyerned for 15 minutes. You'd say that's their dojo.

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