The SCP Experience - The Mothman Lives | SCP-2901

Episode Date: November 18, 2022

Check out my brand new UFO podcast here: THEY'RE OUT THERE SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2901: The Mothman Lives This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2901, 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

It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. Wait, wait, did you see that? I said excitedly, looking out the front passenger window of the SUV. No, what was it?

Vaughn said from the driver's seat, slowing the vehicle. Stop! I said, let me get out. Was it one? Massey asked from the backseat. His face lit up in the dark interior by the laptop, perched on his legs. I think so, I said, opening the door as Vaughn brought the vehicle to a full stop. I stepped out into the cold West Virginia night, peering at the dark, leafless trees bordering the road.

We had just turned off of Valley Drive and onto John Marshall Drive at the back of the Pleasant Valley Hospital. The large medical facility stood solemn against the night behind me. The exterior building lights and tall high-pressure sodium vapor street lights in the parking lot gave the area an orange hue, which ended at the edge of the trees, turning everything beyond pitch black. I stepped off the deserted roadway and into the scrappy winter grass, peering deeper into the trees. Off to my right, there was a helicopter pad made of cracking cement. Stepping closer to the trees, my eyes adjusted slightly.

But it wasn't the adjustment that did it. The thing had been standing there the whole time, but its back had been to me. As it shifted, turning around under the bare trees, two glowing red orbs appeared. Eyes about five feet off the ground, round and as big as tennis balls. Hey there, I said, taking another step forward.

The eyes blinked and then continued to stare at me. The rest of its body was just a darker shade, of black amid the gloom under the trees. As I took another step forward, the world seemed to go silent. Like invisible noise-canceling headphones were slipped over my ears. Oh, shit! The creature moved quickly, almost waddling as it ran through the trees toward me. As soon as it was out from under the tree cover,

it seemed to float up into the air, two jet black wings spreading out from its body. The wings were nothing more than indefinite black. shapes. I could see no feathers or segments or anything but blankets of black. I grabbed the ends of my unzipped jacket up and yanked my arms out to the sides, creating my own makeshift wings. The eyes were closing in now, moving fast. I couldn't help myself from taking a step back, but I still held my arms out with my jacket. At the last second, I turned and ducked in one move. A sharp pain erupted in my left shoulder as the thing smacked into me. I fell to the brown grass,

softening the blow with my arms as I landed face first. Then I was quickly spinning, pulling my Glock 22 out of my holster and looking up into the sky. There was nothing there. The thing was gone. It had all happened fast, no more than a few seconds. Both Vaughn and Massey were next to me quickly, both of them holding their own pistols. Where'd it go? I asked. I don't know. I don't No, Massey said. Just flew up over the SUV and disappeared. You all right? Vaughn asked, helping me up.

I checked my left shoulder and found that there were three gashes through my clothing and into my skin. Two of the wounds were fairly shallow, but the middle one would need stitches. Good thing, we're right next to a hospital. I said as Massey went to the back of the SUV to get the first aid kid. This isn't right, Vaughn said. No, I said. It's not. That was strange behavior.

I've never heard of one doing something like that. I've never heard of one having claws either. So there's a good reason we're here, Bonn said. The recent sightings aren't bullshit. Seems that way, I said, slipping off my jacket in preparation for a bandage of some kind. Which means that something bad is going to happen real soon. Hey guys, Massey said, coming back from the SUV. I think we've got some company.

yards west in a blue and white truck. Can't make out much more than a figure inside, but I'm pretty sure they're interested in whatever we're doing. Vaughn and I shared a look. He nodded and turned, walking around the front of the SUV. He'd holstered his weapon already. Massey handed me a thick square of gauze and I stuck it on the gashes. Then I leaned down to look through the SUV. Vaughn hadn't gotten within 20 yards when the truck started up and peeled out of the parking lot, racing away from us toward the other side of the hospital. Go! I yelled at Vaughn.

Want me to go? Massey asked. Stay with Bowen! Vaughn yelled before I could say otherwise. Vaughn jumped into the vehicle and sped off after the truck. I looked around, taking in the woods and the road going up past the hospital. I saw no red eyes staring back at us. Turning back to Massey, I could tell he had something on his mind.

I got to get this stitched up, I said. still holding the bloody gauze to my wounds. Let's walk. We started off toward the main hospital entrance about 150 yards away. So what does this mean? Massey asked. He was the newest on the team,

more of a tech guy than a field guy, but we desperately needed a good tech guy for this one. It's hard to say, I told him. So many sightings almost always mean some kind of disaster is coming. Sometimes they show up a day before, sometimes a week, sometimes a month. But there's no rhyme or reason to SCP 2901, Massey said.

That was one of the first things you told me. I nodded. That's because it manifests based on what people believe about it. Back in the 60s, when the first reports of a giant moth-like creature came about, there was a bridge collapse not long after one of these sightings, right here in Point Pleasant. 46 people died. Since then, people have thought of the mothman as a harbinger of doom. That's one of the things that has remained constant over the years.

That and the red eyes. What about the talents? Massey asked as we worked our way down the side of the hospital. That's new. So is the attacking out of nowhere. Every other time I've encountered one, it runs away quickly, especially when you make yourself look bigger, like I did back there. So what?

You're saying that people now believe the things have talents? And that they attack unprovoked? I nodded again. It looks that way. So your job will be to find out what people have been saying online lately. That's where beliefs tend to morph and change these days. What about the guy in the truck? What do you think he has to do with this?

Honestly, I said, I have no idea. But you don't run if you're not guilty, right? Maybe he'll be able to tell us something about what the people around here believe, if nothing else. Massey nodded and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. So why do people think mothmen show up before a disaster? I stopped suddenly, looking at the ground. Something had just occurred to me. It came screaming into my mind with all the finesse of a freight train.

I turned to look around. Oh, shit, I said. What? Massey said. What is it? Cameras, I said. Look for cameras in these woods. I pointed across Valley Drive to the woods, bordering the road.

Cameras? Why? Just do it, I said. Start here and work your way down toward the main road. I'm going that way. And if you see a moth man, shoot the fucking thing. Just make sure it's an SEP and not some guy walking his dog. If you find any cameras, shout out. With that, we ran across the road and went in opposite directions.

searching the trees for cameras. A sense of implacable dread settled on me as I stepped into the woods. I tossed the bloody gauze aside. Then I pulled out my Glock as I made my way through the trees, down toward where I'd originally seen the mothman. I'd read something in the prep package before heading to West Virginia. At the time, it hadn't seemed like much at all, just another rambling and virulent Internet argument.

There was so much information in the package, and most of it was stuff pulled from various websites, chat boards, and social media sites. A few usernames had popped up throughout the information, but that wasn't uncommon. People tend to become obsessed with certain things for a while, before moving on to something else. And the mothman legend attracted its fair share of weirdos and keyboard warriors, along with regular people who thought it was interesting. But one username, in particular, had come to mind. Mothman lives 69.

It was something they'd said in one of the chat rooms while arguing with an unbeliever. See what you ignorant ass thinks when I proved that the mothman exists. Just wait. Keep watching the news, you mouth-breathing piece of shit. You'll see. Four sentences out of several thousand that I'd read. Four sentences that, along with what I'd seen since spotting the SCP, held new meaning. Then I spotted a camera.

It was a square black item, mounted to a tree about eight feet off the ground, and it was pointed at the hospital. My stomach dropped. As I turned around to run out of the trees, Massey called out, saying he'd found a camera too. No, no, no, no, I said, working up to a full sprint as I ran toward the hospital. I felt it before I heard it. At first, I thought that it was a heavy truck coming toward me on the road,

but that thought didn't last long. because a sound like reality tearing came to my ears. And then the side of the hospital exploded outward. I tripped and fell to the ground as another explosion rocked the building, sending a wave of dust and smoke and concrete out into the parking lot. Chunks of the building hit cars, causing their alarms to go off. Debris landed around me, but it was all small enough to pose no threat to my life. I coughed and gazed through the dust to see that half the building had exploded.

The other half was badly damaged, and I watched as the top floor collapsed, crashing down on the second and first floors below, leaving only a single wing standing. People were screaming. Nurses, patients, doctors, and administrators were all stuck in the rubble, half crushed or blown to pieces or miraculously alive and screaming for help. Coughing, I turned my head and saw Massey running up to me. My eyes went wide at what I saw behind him. Dozens of pairs of glowing red eyes floated at the edge of the road, staring at the rubble. Massey saw the look on my face and turned around. He made a choking sound, unable to say whatever words were on his mind. Then the black figures with the glowing red eyes swarmed in, swooping, and running past us. Suddenly, I could no longer hear the terrible screams or the grating, repetitious car alarms going off.

The anomalous silence generated by the moth men settled all around as they moved like reapers amid the rubble. Bien-neau-bore, Embarked and profite. Embarked and celebrate. Rigolet. Publié. Savoray. Admire. And profite.

Villaray, the voice that we love that we love. They pulled people out of the wreckage and started feeding on them. Slashing and ripping and tearing strips of... meat off that disappeared into black mouths. One tried to attack me, but Massey shot it in the head and it disappeared like a popped balloon, going back to whatever dimension it came from, or maybe just ceasing to exist altogether. As I stumbled back across the road with Massey, I pulled my phone out and made a call. When I hung up, I knew a mobile task force was on the way. Then I called Vaughn, not sure if he would pick up or not. He did.

He asked by way of greeting. Did you get the guy? Depends on what you mean by Godham. Fawn said. He crashed into a light pole and died when he went out the windshield. That count? He blew up the hospital, I said, so he could get some moth men on camera to prove they exist.

God Almighty. Fawn breathed. That's what that sound was? I heard it all the way over here. Yeah, I said. That's what it was. That's why he ran. He thought we were on to him?

Von asked. I guess. There are cameras set up in the woods all around. Probably even got the one that attacked me on camera. Maybe that would have been enough for him. But he'd already rigged the place to blow. How many dead? A lot.

A whole fucking lot, I said. And the moth men? Dozens of them. I'm watching them right now. They're feasting. Vaughn was silent for a long moment. then he cursed under his breath. Looks like we got our work cut out for us.

SCP 2901's current evolution is the sum of foundation efforts in manipulating its existence through public perception. They were originally a group of extra-dimensional entities that lacked a stable, cohesive form and purpose, making them erratic and extremely dangerous. Then in the 1960s, civilians in the Point Pleasant West Virginia area began conceding to the idea that SCP 2901 was a dark, winged-like humanoid with large red eyes.

SCP 2901 also began to evolve predatory-like behaviors and anomalous acoustic effects that were conceptualized due to the mass fear generated within the surrounding communities. Foundation researchers surmised that instances of SCP 2901 would change with public perception. They determined that for a very generalism. For SCP 2901 to maintain a stable physical mass, approximately 75% of the human populace within 310 miles need to agree on a singular concept of what SCP 2901 is and what it does. The decision was made to maintain this SCP in a manageable state through continued exposure

to human perceptual belief that SCP 2901 is a tangible creature of local folklore. The nearby Silver Bridge collapse of 1967 and the SCP-2901 Appalachian incursion in reality had no connection with one another. However, public opinion strongly disagreed, and henceforth, SCP 2901 began to appear at other future disaster events. This was the precursor of the precognitive scavenging behavior that is observed today. Several methods of containment and or deterrence are still being considered. However, because of the elusiveness of SCP 2901, containment has proved nearly impossible.

Efforts are underway to continue gradually introducing notions developed by the foundation to further SCP-2901's evolution into a more docile and manageable concept. However, with the advent and widespread use of the Internet, This has become increasingly difficult. Lasagne sur-gillet, power-molyne for 15 minutes. We'd say that's the hour dojo. Pre-to-jew?

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