The SCP Experience - The Man and the Monster | SCP-3631

Episode Date: December 26, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-3631: The Man and the Monster This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3631, 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. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Big Bas' Bonanza, depot minimum of 10 dollars. Veilie! Veighed to be a way responsible. The conditions We'll say, Dale snores in the driver's seat, head propped back, and mouth wide open. A shotgun rests across my lap as I sit in the passenger seat of the pickup truck, looking out at the neighborhood.

Widely spaced houses sit back from the road, all dark on the inside. It's nearly two in the morning, and the only lights on at the low cottage-style homes are the porch lights, shining weakly. Despite the lack of illumination from the windows, I doubt the people inside the houses are sleeping. I imagine my friends and neighbors lying awake in their dark bedrooms, staring at the ceiling, listening for any sound they don't recognize. Wives and husbands speak in whispers, trying to calm each other's fears. Maybe the kids are asleep, blissfully unaware, maybe not. My own kids are too young to know what's going on.

They're the reason I'm out here, staying up all night, trying to protect my town from the evil, lurking somewhere out in the gloom. A car rounds the bend to my left, headlights moving over the pickup truck. I squint against the momentary brightness. Dale's truck is backed up into the driveway, allowing us to see the immediate neighborhood without turning around. It also makes for a quicker exit should we need to leave. Dale, wake up, I say. leaning over to Elba, my friend in the ribs. He wakes with a snort, looking around, bleary-eyed.

With my chin, I indicate to the car that slows to a stop right in front of us. It has a light bar on the top and a sheriff's insignia on the side. Oh, blast it! Dale says, dragging a hand down his face. The driver's door in the cruiser opens, and a slim man steps out. It's a wonder his utility belt stays on him. He's so thin. He hefts the belt as he walks around the nose of the cruiser.

His expression is that of a disappointed parent, catching his kids trying beer for the first time. Dale rolls his window down as the deputy steps around. Morning, Landry, Dale says. You're up early. Landry ignores him, leaning his thin frame down to look into the truck. Dale Fontenow, Joe Green, he says. Didn't I tell you both of us to do?

stay in your homes tonight? Or did I just dream that conversation? Man's got a right to protect his own, Dale says. And there ain't a law against sitting in your driveway and your truck, is there? I thought we were talking as friends when we all agreed to let the sheriff's office handle this, Landry says. You're stretched too thin, I say. You know it and we know it. Last time, your boys didn't get there in time. We lost another one. So if there's anything we can do to prevent that, We'll do it. You're willing to risk going to jail to stop this guy? Landry asks. I can see in his face that he already knows the answer.

Damn right, I say. Landry lets out a long sigh. Just call me if... The sound of an air horn cuts through the night, causing us to stiffen and look to the right, deeper into the neighborhood. It's the signal we all agreed on. Five bucks for an air horn at the big chain hardware store one town over. We clean them out of the things.

That's it! Dale shouts. Move your damn car! Now wait a minute, Landry says. Dale ignores him, firing up the truck. Go! I say. Go, go! Dale wrenches the wheel to the right

and hits the gas as Landry screams for us to stop. The truck bumps off the concrete driveway and into the grassy front yard. Dale misses his mailbox by inches. He punches it as we get onto the road. Sounds like it came from the coalman. in place. A shout over the roar of the engine, Dale nods. Sure enough, as we round the bend toward the coldest sack, the air horn blairs again. Leroy Coleman, an older black man with a bum leg, waves to us from his yard. He points back beyond his house at the untouched swath

of Louisiana forest and swamp land. As Dale slams on the brakes, Landry pulls up right behind us, his own tires squealing as he comes to a stop. Dale and I are out first. I asked. Is Missy okay? It tried to get in. Leroy says, eyes wide. I saw it. It tried to get into my house.

It was the devil. I've known Leroy Coleman for a long time. He's a good, sturdy man, not one for flights of fancy. I have a moment of panic at his words. What does he mean by it, I think? What does he mean by devil? But Dale is already running back toward the woods, pulling out his pistol from the holster on his side.

from the holster on his hip. I follow along, knowing I can't waste time talking to Coleman. This is our chance to get the son of a bitch who's been terrorizing our town. Wait a goddamn minute! Landry shouts from behind. Dale and I ignore him. We run into the dark woods. We move under the twisted branches of the black gum trees and mossy live oaks.

We brush past a popinacs in prickly ash branches. As we leave the neighborhood behind, total darkness encroaches. Pretty soon. I can't see anything but Dale's blue and wide striped shirt ahead in the darkness. Do you see him? Dale, do you see him? Not yet. He says. Wait, I whisper. Let's stop for a minute and listen. I can hear Landry cursing as he runs through the trees behind us. Dale and I wait for him to catch up, so we can have a chance at hearing the bastard we're chasing. I've called him back up, Landry says as he gets to us, Shhh, I say, we stand quietly and listen.

At first, there's nothing besides a few crickets chirping. All three of us turned toward the sound of something big moving. I catch the barest glimpse of something red, loping through the trees ahead and to the right, and it's moving fast. He was in the tree! Dale shouts, running after the figure. Landry and I follow,

ducking under branches and trying not to trip on roots. Soon, the ground gets soggy. We're approaching a swamp. I feel the water pour into my boots as we go further into the swamp land. I can no longer see the figure, but I assume Dale can. I try not to worry about snakes as we move knee-deep into the water. Look! Dale says, waving us forward.

He went in there! I follow his finger, seeing a leaning structure beyond the far edge of the swamp. It's an old house. The cabin, more accurately, probably built in the middle of the 20th century. It was clearly handcrafted, but now it looks to be barely standing. This part of Louisiana is spotted with these old abandoned structures, deep in the forests and surrounded by swamp land. You sure he went in there? Landry asks. Dale nods.

Asa! We're right through the open front door! We move up out of the swamp, pants soaked from the thighs down. You stay here, Landry whispers. I'm going to go around back, see if I can flush him out. If he comes out the front, make him get down until I get there, okay? Dale and I nod. What if he's armed? I ask. Landry considers this for a moment.

If your life is in danger, you do what you have to do. Just make sure it's not some kid or something. We don't know that this is the guy. It's the guy, Dale says. Landry moves off around the dilapidated structure while Dale and I get into position. I have my pump-action shotgun aimed at the front doorway. As far as I can tell, The door is gone. The wood of the small porch is rotting and full of holes.

The window frames are free of glass. There's no light coming from inside. All right in there, Landry calls out. We've got you surrounded. Come on out with your hands up. It's over. There's no answer, no sound. A glow comes from the back of the house. Landry's just turned on his flashlight, and he's shining it in the back of the structure. Come on out now, the deputy calls. This is your last chance. Still nothing. My imagination runs wild as I continue staring hard at the impenetrable darkness at the front door. I think I see shapes in the darkness, figures, swirling and twitching. It's not real. The glow at the back of the house changes. I can see the flashlight beam suddenly directed at the trees behind the house. As if Landry dropped his flashlight. Dale and I look at each other, then back at the structure.

Long moments pass. Landry? I call out. You okay back there? There's no answer. Shit. Dale says. Stay here.

I tell him. I'm going to go check. Dale nods, keeping his pistol pointed at the house. I move around behind him and head for the back corner of the house. Landry! I call in a harsh whisper. As I round the corner, I see the flashlight first. It's lying propped against a thick dead branch,

pointed up toward the trees bordering the back of the house. Then I see Landry. He's lying on his chest a few yards beyond the flashlight. I scan the area, moving quickly up to the man. When I'm flush with the flashlight, I can see enough to know that he's dead. His throat is nothing but a gory mess of bloody flesh, as if something tore it apart with sharp claws.

I back away, Coleman's words echoing in my head and panic flooding my veins. The dark woods around me suddenly. suddenly seem full of shadowy demons. I whip my head around, looking for any sign of movement. The sound of two gunshots snaps me out of the sensory overload. Dale! I run back around the front of the house, turning the corner,

just in time to see Dale's kicking legs disappear into the cabin. Dale! I screamed, running toward the porch. I jumped past the first two porch steps, landing with all my weight on the third. The rock and board snap underneath me. My body falls forward, but my leg falls forward, but my left. leg is stuck in the porch, and I hyper-extended the limb. To break my fall, I instinctively drop the shotgun, which goes clattering to the right through the dark doorway. Winsing, I pull my

leg out of the hole and scramble on my hands and knees toward the open doorway and the shotgun therein. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got. Sign up for free at rBC training ground.ca. As I reach for the weapon, something sharp and heavy strikes me in the left side of the head, lifting me off the floor and slamming me into the wall. The world goes blurry.

The pain is immense, and I feel the entire left side of my face warm and wet with blood. When things come back into focus, I'm lying in a pool of blood half in and half out of the doorway. The shotgun is nowhere to be seen. Struggling to my hands and knees, I think only in the air. of my friend Dale, somewhere in the house. I move on the warped floor, further into the structure, avoiding holes here and there. I move down the hallway, looking into rooms, leaving a trail of blood behind me. Near the back of the house, I looked through a doorway as I approach, seeing Dale's legs. He's lying on the floor, but I can't see his body, thanks to my angle.

But his legs seem to be moving, as if he's trying to use them. He's still alive. As I move closer, I see the shotgun lying on the ground near Dale. I wonder why he doesn't reach for it, but I soon learn why as I bring his full body into view. Dale's shirt has been torn open, and so has his abdomen. There's a large slice in his belly, just under the rib cage. And as I watch, a demonic figure with mottled red skin reaches into my friend's chest cavity and pulls out his liver. The thing has the body of a man, two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. but its face is like nothing I've seen before. It has a slit for a mouth, but no eyes or hair or ears.

But there are several strange orifices at the front of its head that seem to pucker and expand on their own. I fight the urge to vomit as the creature carries Dale's liver over to the corner of the room. And for the first time, I notice a third figure there. It's a man I don't recognize. But he's in bad shape. His arms and legs are gone. only long-heeled stumps in their places.

His lower jaw has also been removed. There's no tongue, just an open throat and the top row of teeth. He looks to be unconscious, and his stomach has been sliced open, much like Dales. The creature sets Dail's liver down on the man's slowly moving chest and then reaches its hand into his body. The man's eyes open in pain as a breath escapes his exposed throat. His crazed eyes wheel around, eventually, landing on me. But as the creature roots around inside him, his eyes close again. He's passed out.

After a moment, the creature pulls out a bloated and discolored liver, tossing it aside. It then grabs Dale's liver and inserts it into the man's body. It is the devil, I think. It really is. I tear my eyes from the creature and look at the shotgun. It's about six feet away. Looking back up at the creature, I see it sticking its clawed hand back into the man's chest, perhaps checking to see if any of his other organs need replacing. Now's my chance. Now, or never. As quickly as I can, I pull my legs under me.

The movement makes me lightheaded, but I push through. I stand up on wobbly legs, thankful that the floor hasn't creaked under me yet. Gripping the doorway, I take a single step into the room. The creature whips its head toward me at the sound of the creaking floor. the orifices in its face expanding wide. I lunge for the shotgun just as the creature lunges for me. I slammed to the ground next to Dale's body, getting my hands around the shotgun, just as the creature crashes into me.

I feel its claws flaying the skin of my arms as it tries to get the weapon away from me. Somehow, I managed to whip my head forward, hitting the creature right near the disgusting orifices above its mouth. It cries out and flinches away, freeing my arms. I point the shotgun at it and pull the trigger. The blast throws the creature into the wall. It falls to a heap on the floor. Breathing hard, I worked the pump action slide, ejecting the spent shell while loading another cartridge.

The creature moves, quickly getting back to its feet. It lunges at me, but I fire, hitting the thing in mid-air and sending it crashing into the wall again. I worked the slide again, but it gets stuck. The creature moves again. How is it not dead? Turning the gun, I see the problem. The spent shell is stuck in the ejection port. As I reach my right hand up to remove the shell, the creature leaves toward me.

I lift a leg up. The creature slams into my leg, but it only buys me a second. I managed to get another cartridge into the chamber, but the creature is on top of me before I can shoot it again. A grunt, struggling to get the barrel aimed at the creature while it works to prevent it. My trigger finger slips and the shotgun fires, not even close to hitting the thing. But suddenly, the creature is gone. Just gone.

like it disappeared. Looking around the room for the devil, I see that the errant shotgun blast hit the man in the corner. It blew his head apart. He's dead. I load another cartridge and then scramble into the near corner.

I wait, but the creature doesn't show up again. It's gone. Somehow, it's gone. I look over at the dead man in the corner. Then, from outside, I hear the familiar voices of Deputy Brooks and Sheriff Watson, shouting.

In here! I call. I'm in here! I realize as the voices come closer, that they will never believe me. If I tell them the truth, it will never believe it. But that's okay because the terror is over.

I have no doubt that the bodies of the four missing persons will be found around this property. I breathe out a heavy sigh. The terror is over. I hope. SCP 3631 is the collective designation

for two humanoid. SCP 3631-1 and SCP 3631-2. Dash 1 is a nocturnal carnivore with red skin pigmentation. It weighs 196 pounds and stands at 6 feet 2 inches when upright. Outside of a mouth and several heat-sensing orifices, it lacks any discernible facial features. Despite this, SCP 3631-1 demonstrates sight, smell, and hearing comparable with that of other.

large primates. It displays persistence hunting behavior, stalking solitary prey from a distance and attacking when isolated. SCP 3631-2 is an adult male human. All of dash-2's limbs have been amputated, and the lower jaw and vocal cords have been removed. Additionally, a long incision has been made across the abdomen to allow access to the abdominal cavity. Although it It shows signs of consciousness. SCP 3631-2 is capable of only a weak response to stimuli. SCP 3631-1 displays aggressively protective behavior against perceived threats to SCP 3631-2. It seems to be able to innately sense the medical condition of dash 2 and seeks out victims

to harvest organs to keep dash 2 alive. The transplanted organs resume functions upon attachment. However, transplanted organs quickly begin showing signs of atrophy and require replacement on an approximately monthly basis. Analysis indicates nearly all of SCP-3631-2's organs have been replaced in this fashion. With only the central nervous system and sections of bone and muscle tissue retained, tissues from 23 different hosts have been identified.