The SCP Experience - The Phobia Induction Corridor | SCP-1346

Episode Date: December 13, 2021

SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-1346: The Phobia Induction Corridor. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1346, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ 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

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. Bien-a-boree, embarked and profite. Embarque and celebrate. Rigolet.

Publié. Savoy. Admirate and profite. Villaray, the voice that we love that we love. I woke up in an unfamiliar bed. That's nothing new. I spent most of my life on the road staying at one dingy hotel room after the next.

That's the life of a reporter, especially when you're unemployed and relying on whatever blogs and freelancing gigs you can find online. What can I say? Hotel managers react a lot less angrily than landlords when the rent is late. Well, that. And they're easier to skip the bill on.

Not that I try to make a habit of doing that, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. The lights are all wrong, long fluorescent tubes instead of the fat bulbs at the bluegrass bungalow. I turn on my side and notice that the ugly horse wallpaper is missing. Instead, it's just bare concrete. I sit up in my bed. It's just a standard issue cot, but really not much more uncomfortable than the bed. at the hotel. My skull feels a couple's sizes too small for my brain. I run my hands through my long

hair and massage my temples, but the pain refuses to subside. Book? My heart starts to race as I realize he's not here. I've made a few enemies over the years, but surely they wouldn't hurt Book. I stand and look around the room. There's not much else to see besides a mirror and a table with a flashlight resting on it. I walk over to the mirror. My pale chubby cheeks look the same, as well as the bags under my eyes. I follow the tenderness in my neck to a small red welt just below my ear. Well, that's one mystery solved. Someone tranked me, but who and why. Usually, at this point in the movie, the villains show up to reveal their master plans. I wait a couple of minutes, but nothing happens. As my old journalism instructors used to say,

you never learn anything sitting around on your ass. I pick up the flashlight. It's a standard, cheap plastic model you might find at a thrift shop, certainly not fit for an improvised weapon of any kind. Not that it would do me much good if it was. My body type is more John Candy than John Rambo. Still, I flick it on and off a couple of times to be sure it works and try the door. It's unlocked.

I step through, and I am abruptly lifted off my door. my feet and slammed into the concrete walls. Before I can do anything, an elbow is pressed into my throat and digs in deep. The woman pinning me to the wall is a couple inches shorter than I am. She's bronze-skinned, with short curly hair. Her brown eyes narrowed in hate with a matching snarl on her lips. She says something that I miss. I try to say something witty, but it comes out garbled. The hallway fills with high-pitched barking. A brown and white ball of fur comes racing down the corridor. The dog sinks his short teeth deep into the woman's ankles. She howls and kicks, but the dog remains attached until she lets me go. She rears her foot back, but I drop to my

knees in front of the dog. Her foot collides between my legs instead. My breath is forced from my lungs, and I double over. The dog whimperes beside me and licks my head. I reach a handout from between my legs and tussle him behind his ears. Another door in the hallway opens. and a young man in his 20s stumbles out. He's wearing glasses thicker than Buddy Holly. He has unkempt dark hair and robot pajamas. The woman backs up and shifts glances to each of us. The young man looks like he's about to bolt.

Neither one is my immediate priority. It's okay, book. I say after I'm able to catch my breath. I scratch him behind his ears the way he likes, and his stump of a tail starts to wag. I've never seen a dog. dog-like book before. He's some kind of mutt breed of every miniature dog imaginable. You can take one glimpse at him and see maybe Corgi or Chihuahua. Another look might reveal a hint of

pug or beagle. Book is a genetic lottery of possibilities with no certainties. We fell in love with each other at first sight. I guess muds can smell their own, even when they're different species. Finally, I look at the other two guests, and they're still trying to figure out what to do. The woman is all lean-coiled muscle, guessing from how she pinned me, my money's on a cop or soldier. The guy looks like your standard geek, but of the underweight variety, not overweight, like myself. So, I say and point to the small welt on my neck, guess we're triplets? They stare at me for a second, and the woman is the first to comprehend. my words. She runs a hand over her neck and finds a matching injury in the same place as mine.

The kid watches her and discovers the same injury. It looks like we've all been abducted, that or we've been led to think so, and one of us is secretly a plant. The kid seems too nervous to be faking, though, and the woman is as subtle as a brick through a pained glass window. Right, so I'm Cody. I stand up after the roller coaster of pain and and my crotch finally takes a dip. This is book. The woman frowns. You named your dog book?

I like books. I smile. And firefly. Recognition dawns on the kid's face, and he smiles a little. But the woman's frown only deepens in confusion. It at least confirms that my geek d'ar is still fully functional. Like mutts, we can smell our own. I'm Randy, he says.

We both look expectantly to the woman. who finally lowers her arms but not her guard. Minnie. I managed to hold back most of my laugh, but a small snort escapes through my nostrils. She sends a glare my way, but it's less intense than when she tried to strangle me. I guess she's used to my reaction.

A tiny tickle crosses my neck, and I reach out and wipe it away. A spider is crawling across my palm. I immediately let out a less-than-manly, high-pitched shrill as I shook my hands in front of me. I keep doing so even after the same. the spider is gone. Minnie stomps a foot down, making sure that I have nothing left to fear. She looks at me with an upturned eyebrow. You don't react at all when someone has you by the throat,

but spiders magically make your balls disappear? I'm a friend to all things on four or fewer legs, I shrug my shoulders. Anything with more than that can go fuck itself. We briefly exchange our stories and discover a couple of similar themes. We all remember going to bed the night before. but nothing after that. We all woke up in identical rooms. Many and I had discovered our flashlights, but Randy didn't. He doubled back to his room to recover it. We walk up the hall and discover more bare concrete walls and not much else.

There's a door at one end of the hall, but it looks like something you'd find in a submarine. Thick steel and sealed tight. After a couple of futile attempts at opening it, We give up and start back in the opposite direction. I decided to pass the time by making small talk. So, Randy, where are you from? Providence?

I frown. What brings you all the way to Kentucky? Huh? What are you talking about? I've never left Rhode Island. That freezes Minnie and I in our tracks. We turn to each other, and I raise an eyebrow. I don't even have to ask the question to elicit her answer.

San Francisco. Randy is the last to catch on, but the fear and realization soon creep into his expression. Whoever abducted us did so from all over the country. So, I reached down in Pet Book again. No telling where we are, many swears. Or how long we've been here. Her words make me note the slight shaking in my hands.

The headache I have, the one the others seem to be lacking, is familiar. Over 24 hours. Many looks suspiciously at me, so I hold up my hand for her to see. Withdraw. A look of disgust washes away her suspicions. You're a junkie? Yep. I smile.

Can't get by without at least six cups of coffee and a pack of smokes. If I go more than a day without either, I get the shakes. The realization does little to comfort us, nor does the second door we find. It looks like something you'd find in a bankfront. vault, a big circle of steel with a turn hatch in the center. Many steps forward and turns the lock counterclockwise. It spins freely, and she jerks the door open. Inside is a hallway like all the others we've seen, except the lights stop working halfway through. Guess we know what the flashlights are for. I turn mine on, and it's stronger than it looks. It cuts through the dark and reveals

a matching door on the other end. Well, show them what's behind door number two, Johnny. I take a step forward, but Minnie grips my shoulder tight. You're smarter than you look. You should know someone's hurting us toward that door. Yep, I nod. And I'd avoid it like the plague if I had a better option, or any other option. You got one? Minnie swears again, but let's go of my arm and strolls past me, taking the lead. Given how easily she whooped my ass earlier, I'm not.

inclined to letter. Randy reluctantly takes up the rear behind, with Book trotting alongside his feet, his stumpy tail wagging the whole time. We barely take a few steps when the clicking starts. It sounds mechanical and is accompanied by a constant electronic hum. The noise creeps under my skin and makes my teeth grind. With every step, it grows stronger. My stomach tightens with nerves. Randy starts to shake, and even Minnie looks cautiously towards the shadows. The The feeling of dread grows when we reach the edge of the darkness. Then our flashlight sputter and die one by one. Well, shit!

I exhale and wipe the cold sweat from my brow. At least it's not much further. Randy screams, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He stumbles back into the light, kicking his arms and legs. Minnie and I rushed to his side. He keeps thrashing around like a madman despite her attempts to calm them down. I can't swim. He screams.

I can't. His words cut off as he starts gagging. He raises his hands to his throat. He is opening and closing his mouth but taking no air in. Without any good options, I grab him by the shoulders and try to shake him out of his convulsions. Out of nowhere, Minnie slams her fist into the wall. You can't be here! She yells, leaving a bloody smear against the concrete wall as she hits it.

You can't be here! I turn around and see them. Millions of spiders are crawling out from the desk. Some are no bigger than my finger-neighur. my fingernails and others bigger than book. They swarm right past many and head straight towards me. I run my hands over my arms and legs, trying to knock them off, but they keep coming. I fall to the ground quivering with fear and start rolling. While it's sound advice for fires, it does nothing to the spiders. I scramble back to my feet and see the newest spiders. They're bigger than me,

clinging to the walls and ceiling. Their multitude of eyes rest on me, reflecting nothing but hunger. crawls over my eyes, but then a soft wimper grabs my attention. I look over to Book. His big eyes filled with fear and concern. I hesitate. Book isn't any bigger than my foot, but try telling him that. I remember how he defended me from Minnie without question, and now he's just frozen in concern. I forced myself to look up at the spiders and see Minnie punching and kicking them. No, not them. She's striking at something I can't see. Her blows only coming into contact with the spiders by accident. Her fists and feet pass right through them. I rush over to Minnie and take a couple of blows to the stomach. Eventually, I managed to get her by the shoulders.

I slam her against the wall, but she's still screaming. I rear back and do it again, forcing her eyes to look into mine. It's not real! I scream. None of it's real! The fear is still in her eyes, but she sees something that makes her latch onto my words. I turn around and come face to face with with one of the giant spiders, its fangs dripping with venom. Knowing it's a hallucination doesn't make it easier. It's like telling a schizophrenic to ignore the voices since they know they're not real. Still, I close my eyes and take Minnie's hand in my own. Our fears still swarm around us, but we ignore them and each wrap a hand under Randy's shoulders.

We drag him back the way we came until the clicks and hums stop. As Minnie fumbles with the door, I look over my shoulders. The spiders are gone. People are waiting for us beyond the door. Minnie doesn't see them at first. She's too busy closing the door and sealing the lock tight. Two are armed guards in unmarked uniforms. Two more wear white lab coats and rush over to Randy.

The last is also wearing a white coat. He's bald-headed and walks forward with a limp and seems to have so much confidence that he has to be the one in charge. Very impressive, Mr. Hale, he says to me and smiles. We haven't had such a successful interview in some time. Interview? I ask. And Minnie looks like she'd be pounding his face in, if not for her bloody knuckles and busted

ankle. Next time, just ask for my resume. And an impressive resume it is, his smile widens. But we are not an orthodox organization and thus require unorthodox techniques in acquiring suitable candidates. You and Miss Booth handled yourselves quite well. I wish the same could be said for Mr. Gallows. Takes me a second to realize he's talking about Minnie and Randy.

Book crouches protectively at my feet, a low growl issuing from his throat. The man in charge pays no attention to my miniature protector and keeps his eyes on me. I was particularly impressed with your work in Boston. Several prominent mobsters are in jail, thanks to your investigative reporting. Your best achievement, according to your former colleagues. was before your articles turned more bizarre. I crossed my arms. A familiar resentment rears up in my chest.

Every word I've ever written is the truth. As you say, he smirks. But let's go back to Boston. You refuse to give up any of your sources during the investigation. Why is that? Why would someone so passionate about reporting the truth withhold it from the public? I frown.

Because the truth isn't worth innocent people getting murdered. Precisely, he nods like a teacher, talking to his favorite student. That is what we do. We discover abnormalities like the one you just experienced. We secure them, and we contain them for the security of the public. I glance over at a shocked Randy, still shaking his head and clutching his ears as the doctors tend to him. You sure about that, doc? Mr. Gallows, while lacking in a traditional educational experience, has an ice, that is off the charts. I thought that his potential in the field of research would pair well with your investigative background and Miss Booth's military service. I stand between him and Randy.

You were wrong. The look of disappointment is quickly wiped away with a wave of his hand. Mr. Gallows is quite well-traveled on the internet, and these aberrations are not contained merely to the physical world. Trust me, it is better that he be exposed under controlled conditions at one of our safer containment facilities than discover one in the wild on his own. I don't know what frightens me more. That the hallway could ever be considered safer compared to anything or that the creep wants me to trust him.

He turns and walks away. You'll start tomorrow, my frown deepens. I didn't say I want the job. He looks back at me. His smile has no warmth, but is filled with certainty. It's then I realize. realize why the armed guards are here. I don't get to say no. Welcome to the foundation, Mr. Hale.

SCP 1346 is a corridor located in a classified area. The entrance is marked by a heavy steel door. An identical door sits closed at the opposite end of the hallway. The passageway itself is a seamless, cement corridor having no other doors, windows, or alcoves. The ceiling has regular lighting placements, however, due to the effects of SCMETA. After the effects of SCP 1346, everything past 60 meters has proven impractical to maintain, rendering the last half of the corridor dark and in disrepair. The corridor's anomalous nature manifests at approximately 50 to 60 meters along its length.

Shortly after crossing the 50-meter threshold, electronic devices begin to malfunction. At about the same point, subjects report hearing clicking, tapping, and other mechanical sounds, though not from any clear source. During this period, subjects start to report feelings of apprehension which intensifies the longer they remain in the passageway, and the further along it they traverse. Eventually, some fear or dislike the subject harbors will begin to manifest into a fully-fledged phobia. At around 90 to 100 meters, or if more than 10 minutes have been spent in the anomalous zone, the subject becomes overwhelmed with fear, attempting to retreat from the The passageway as quickly as circumstances will allow.

In most subjects, the feelings of fear and anxiety subside immediately upon exiting the corridor. Lasagne sur-joled, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We're like the Dojo. Prere to play! Vive the pleasure with the Ojo! The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machines-a-sou and the games of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours gratis on Big Bas Bonanza,

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