The SCP Experience - The Human Skeleton Closet (and his cat) | SCP-2902

Episode Date: September 16, 2024

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2902 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2902 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

The dirty green and white gas station looked like it had been cut in half and glued to a wall of bright red concrete that made up the face of some sort of roadside attraction. The sign above the door was yellow, with blue words written in big, blocky letters that said, Wonders and amazement, and nothing else. A few chipped, faded paintings on the wall, advertised people of various shapes and sizes

performing acts of contortionism that Alex had never seen before. He was not sure that some of the positions were even possible. On the door, there was a flyer that looked like it had been ripped down and taped back up countless times. It was also hand-drawn, looking like it had been ripped out of a vintage catalog. It depicted a dark-haired man sitting on a stool in the middle of a stage. There was a spotlight shining on him, and on his lap there was a gray, long-haired cat sitting straight up, like a person with its legs spayed out in a comical position. The cat's mouth was drawn hanging open,

and it had a speech bubble above its head, although the words in the bubble were so scrambled that Alex couldn't make out what they were supposed to say. Underneath the pair were the words, the human skeleton closet, and his cat. Alex sipped on his icy and glanced down at his phone. The dim screen lit up, screaming about his 3% battery life.

He needed to plug his phone in, but his car was still getting air pumped into its tires. He glanced over his shoulder at the gas station attendant who had volunteered to help him. The man was old enough that he probably had strong opinions about the Roosevelt election, and he had walked right by Alex, muttering something like, You'll never figure that contraption out, before leaving the glass door swinging. Alex had left him to his task. If the man wanted to fill his tires for him, Then he was more than welcome.

And once he was finished, Alex could get back in his car and plug in his phone. He thought it had been plugged in the entire time he was using the GPS, but apparently not. This place wasn't even on the map. It was a miracle that he had found it right as his gas needle plummeted, and he felt his tires start to wobble. What's in here? Alex called out, chewing on the end of his straw. The old man didn't look up.

What does it say? he asked, disgruntled, and not afraid to show it. Alex raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the sign. Wonders and amazement, he repeated sarcastically. There you go, then, the old man said. Wonderful. Alex rolled his eyes and kept gnawing on his straw. Mind if I go check it out while you, um, do that?

Knock yourself out, the old man said. The air hissed like a spitting cobra through the dusty, thick hose. as it pumped from the machine into Alex's tires. Alex gripped the straw between his teeth and pulled it out entirely, looking around for a trash can. The nearest one was all the way back by the gas station entrance.

He had no intention of walking all that way, so he just dropped the plastic up, still half-filled with icy blue sludge, onto the ground. Alex turned the straw around in his mouth, pushing it between his back teeth and grinding down against the plastic as he walked through the door.

There was no handle or lock. It came open with just a touch. The inside smelled like dust and mildew. The exact same smell as walking into your grandmother's attic to pull down her yearly Halloween decorations. It had the same scourging, wet heat that attics liked to collect. It hit Alex in the face as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

At first, it was dark. He couldn't see a damn thing. The entrance was a narrow concrete hall where the walls were painted the same candy apple red as the outside. The fluorescent lights above his head flickered dramatically, switching on and off, total brightness and then complete blackout. They flickered so rapidly that he had a hard time seeing the end of the hall, or even how far away his face was from his hand. The door slammed shut behind him. Alex glanced over his shoulder to see that it had disappeared. The inside of it must have been painted the same color as the walls, because it blended in perfectly.

The lights that were fighting to give him a seizure made it impossible to distinguish the materials. So unless he put his hands against the wall and started feeling around, there was no way he was going to find the door. The only way to get out was to go forward. That was true of most little fun houses that dotted the road and lured in unsuspecting travelers. He was certain at the end, they would try to swindle a good ten, maybe even $20 cash out of him for the experience. They would be shit out of luck, though, unless they accepted Apple Pay. Alex took his time walking with careful, tiny half-steps. When he reached the end of the hall, there was another door.

This one was metal and had a bar across its middle. When he pressed down, the door came open, and he stumbled into the next room. him. The air was much cooler, and it was still dark, but the lights were no longer flickering. Alex counted his blessings as he made his way further inside. There was an ambient golden glow, but he could not see any lamps. It was just enough light for him to make out the tops of some straight-backed chairs that were lined up in two neat rows like soldiers, all facing the same way. He touched the back of one chair out of curiosity. It was just plain metal. As soon as his fingers brushed against it, a spotlight switched on, and a large circle

of yellow light came swinging down the center aisle. It slid over Alex and then illuminated what looked like a stage, but it was hardly bigger than what one would expect to see in an underground coffee shop. From nowhere there came the sound of a drum roll. It filled the room and startled Alex so badly that he nearly jumped out of his skin, a voice that sounded like it was coming through an old-fashioned gramophone chased the drum roll away. Looks looked around. There was no one else in the audience.

He wasn't keen on sticking around, especially if he was going to be the only observer. But he also felt compelled to sit down and watch. It was all part of the experience, right? And that old man was probably only just now shuffling over to start the second tire. Well, then, why not? Alex sat down. The moment he touched the seat, there was a sound like symbols crashing, and his head came up. A man was sitting on the stage.

It was a three-legged stool sitting in the center, and on top of it was a man. He was plainly dressed, certainly not what Alex might have expected from such a miraculous or exotic performer. He wore plain khakis and a striped pink shirt, with a yellow bandana tied around his neck. His hair was combed back, away from his face, and he had a genuinely friendly smile. There was nothing really odd or unsettling about him at all. In his lap, he held onto a modelled gray cat. It was enormous, even from where Alex was sitting, as big as a main coon with long, silky fur. Again, a very pretty cat, but nothing too miraculous.

He had seen more exciting breeds when walking through his local pet store. The man adjusted the cat on his lap, stroking from its head down to its tail and scratching the very base. The cat stretched and arched its back, standing up on top of the man's thighs. Good evening, the man said. He spoke with a thick accent that Alex couldn't quite place. What a great crowd we have tonight! He was clearly speaking from some sort of script. Alex sighed and checked his phone.

2% battery. He was fucked. I was walking home the other evening, the man on the stage said. A bad idea around these parts? The cat's mouth came open, and a higher, slightly less accented voice responded. The man's mouth did not move.

Alex made a face. What do you know about that, Miles? You're an alley cat, the man said. I prefer to think of it as a nomadic lifestyle. The cat replied. Somewhere in the back, there was the sound of a drum and a ringing symbol to indicate a punchline. But Alex did not understand the joke. Inside, he was cringing.

He wanted to leave, but he still could not move. He felt morbidly compelled to watch. It was like staring at a train wreck. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We're like to dojo. Fere to play the pleasure with the Ojo. The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-ass-sou and the game of casino in direct.

Profite of 50 tours gratu on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of mis, and with the payment instantane. Hey, I! I've got it! Woo-hoo! Sontire the pleasure! Play-O-Joe! 18-and-and-plus, first. 1st2nd! 10-turb only depot!

50-tourses' money-a-Bas-Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veil to play in a fashion responsible. The conditions apply. Well, this girl was outside of my apartment. The man said, Outside your apartment, was she lost? The cat's voice replied.

another punchline sound, Alex groaned. She got locked out of hers and needed the way back in, the man said. But when I tell you, she took me by such surprise, I jumped right out of my skin. When he said that, the man reached up and smacked his hand against his face. Another punchline sound was made, but Alex didn't laugh. The man held his hand there for a second, like he was expecting some response. And when he didn't get it, his fingers curled. inward. Alex shifted in his seat. He watched the man's knuckles go pale as he dug his fingers

deeper into the sides of his face. He pulled them in even more, his skin wrinkling and bunching underneath his fingertips like it was made of latex. Alex grimaced in disgust, but the cat did not even seem disturbed. It stared at him with all two human eyes, as big as the eyes of a barn owl and the same bright green as radium. There was a loud, ripping sound like upholstery being torn open. The man bent his head, just enough that Alex could see a red line splitting all the way down the center. He expected buckets of fake blood, like maybe this was all some strange theatrical bit, but nothing came out. The man kept pulling on his face, and it gathered up like a wad of fabric as he gave it one good tug and peeled it right off.

His skull popped out, clean and whiter than chalk. There was nothing in the sockets, no eyes rolling around, no muscles left clinging to the bone, and no waggling tongue behind his clacking teeth. It was like a bad Halloween store prop, or like something out of a cartoon. There was no way it was real. Alex waited for the punchline drum and symbol again, a little badump crash, to put an end to his discomfort. Nothing came. There was absolute silence except for the awful sound of tearing flesh.

and like a costume being unzipped, the man just kept going. He kept peeling his skin away until he was peeling more and more of himself. First his neck, and then his shoulders started wriggling their way out. All clean, white bone. There was not a drop of blood or organs in sight. Alex's stomach sloshed. He pressed his hands against it and leaned over, fighting the urge to vomit at the horror, unfolding before his eyes.

The smell was ungodly, something he was. would have described as what he thought gastric surgery might smell like. The skin kept unrolling until, finally, the cat Miles, jumped down from the skeleton's lap. The feet were the last to get tugged off, one toe peeling away at a time. The skeleton then leaned back in the chair and stretched, clacking its jaws and pulling the skin back up. Well, that's a relief. The skeleton's voice was the same as it had been before it peeled off its skin.

It was getting a little stuffy in there. It put one bony hand through the back of the skin and popped the head up to make the mouth flap. I've just been dying to get out. Another bunchline drum. Alex laughed. It wasn't funny, but he was delirious. None of this felt real.

He let his laughter take over, rocking back and forth while trying to launch himself off the chair at the same time. He was stuck to the seat. He couldn't stand up. no matter how hard he tried. He managed to get the chair up on two legs, but when he rocked forward again, it just fell.

And then he was ass up in the chair with the seat, still glued to him. The skeleton's teeth rattled together. Now that's tickling my funny bone! What do you think of that, Miles? The cat arched its back again. Alex turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against the floor, so he could still see the stage.

The sound of ripping fabric came again. again, and this time the cat let out a grumpy yowl. It did not come apart like the man's skin had. Instead, Alex watched as its skeleton seemed to phase through its back, rising higher and higher into the air until the cat's fur and skin was the only thing left on the stage. The mouth of the cat's skeleton fell open again, and its skin, which was still standing straight up as if the bones were still inside, did the same. I don't know about this guy, the cat's voice responded. I think he needs to let loose.

Panic seized Alex, although he did not know why. Something about the cat's answer felt like a threat. He scrambled back, trying to shake off the metal chair as he did so. It was heavy enough that it kept pushing him towards the floor, making it impossible to move without falling over onto his side or risk hitting himself in the head if he thrashed around too much. Where are you going? The man's skeleton called out.

The show isn't over. Alex didn't even try to respond. He just kept crawling backward. His phone fell out of his pocket, and he swore trying to reach out to grab it. The cat yowled again, and Alex abandoned his phone as quickly as he thought about it. He didn't need the GPS to get home.

Fuck it! He would figure it out. Both voices laughed, and the sound made Alex's blood run cold. He kept going until he felt his foot strike away. wall, and then he stood up, reaching behind him to try and smack the metal chair. He didn't fall, so he ran away, hunched over in the darkness, and scurrying as fast as his legs could carry him. He plunged through the metal door and into the red hallway. He slammed the chair into the concrete wall and let out a feral scream, dragging his nails

down his face like he was going to claw his own skin, clean off. Not real! Alex felt his words come out in a sob. Not real! Not real! Not real! Not real! He slammed his side into the wall again, and the chair went flying. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter, and then he bolted. He kept running, stumbling every time the lights flickered, dragging his hands along the wall until the painted concrete scraped his palms raw. He could not even see his own blood smears against the wall.

Alex reached the end where the door was supposed to be. He slammed his hands against the walls until he hit wood, and then he started kicking. The door flew open on the third kick, and he stumbled into the open air, heaving ragged breaths and looking around wild-eyed. Like there was a chance, he stumbled into some reality that was not his own. His car was still by the air pump, and the old man was standing there. He just looked at Alex without blinking, and then he gestured to the car. I've got her done, he said. Jesus, are you okay?

Alex didn't say a word. He walked right past the old man and opened his driver's side door. He slid into his seat and gripped the steering wheel, still focused on keeping his heavy breathing as even as possible, so he didn't throw up. His keys dangled from the ignition. Alex groped for them, making a few swipes before he was able to grab them and crank the engine.

The old man appeared on the other side of the window, which Alex had forgotten was rolled down. What's wrong? The old man asked. Looks like you've seen a ghost. A skeleton! Alex stammered. Goodbye.

He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, but the car was still in park. He swore again. Hey! The old man said. Alex looked up. The old man was grinning from ear to ear, and he leaned in real close until they were practically touching noses. You got something on your face, the old man said. He reached out and grabbed Alex's face, digging his fingers into the side like he was going to rip the skin clean off.

Alex was not in charge of the scream that ripped out of his throat as he put the car into drive and sped off as quickly as he could. He did not even glance in the rearview mirror. If he had, he would have seen the old man laughing. SCP 2902-1 is, as of January 29, 2008, a 32-year-old human male of Indian descent named Nanden Shakrabarti. SCP 2902-1 is 172 centimeters tall, 66 kilograms, and when not performing, speaks with a moderate Indian accent. SCP 2.2-1 is skilled in ventriloquism, often using his ability during its performances with SCP 2902-2. SCP 2-2-2 is a male, main coon cat with a gray, modeled fur coloration. It is 90 centimeters long and weighs 11 kilograms.

SCP 2902-1 refers to SCP 2902-2 as miles. SCP 2-2-2-2 is affectionate towards SCP 2902-1 and often takes part in its performances. Both SCP 2902-1 and 2 possess the ability to have their skeletons completely separate from their bodies. The outer skins of both do not suffer any muscle, nerve, or organ damage during or after the skeletons exit. Both their skins and skeletons retain full mobility. However, due to lack of support, the former becomes limp and moves in an uncoordinated manner.

SCP 2902-1 removes its skeleton by bisecting itself vertically or horizontally, which it achieves through pulling on its face or stomach area, respectively. its body will open in a hinge-like manner, accompanied by a sound similar to tearing fabric. During the time its skeleton exits, there are no visible muscles, blood, or organs in SCP 2902-1. Instead, only solid black space fills its inner body. After its skeleton exits completely, SCP 2902-1 skin will reclose. SCP 2902-1 can speak through both its skin and skeleton, though, only one at a time.

SCP 2902-1 often alternates between the two while speaking for dramatic effect.