The SCP Experience - The Ritual | SCP-776

Episode Date: December 17, 2021

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-776: The Ritual. Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-776, 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

Lazang sur-gillet, and thence-molyne for 15 minutes. Oh, you're like their dojo? Prere to play! Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo! The casino in-line

that proposes the most recent machine-a-sou and the games to get-a-bos-grat-a- on Big Bas-Bonanza, without exigance bonanza, without any questions of money,

and I've got to do you-h Woohoo! Sonture the Pleasure! Play-O-Jo! 18-10 and plus, 1-Depo SOULINNNNNus 50-tour-Bus B'Bas Bonanza. Depos Minimimimmonimmonimmonin of 10 dollars.

Veillage me, of way I'm responsible. The conditions apply. I need you to know that as I start this story, you must know that. Love does strange things to people, you know. Have you ever been in love? Don't answer that.

I need to focus. I need to tell you my story. Maybe you can help me. Maybe you can help Vera. That's my... She was my fiancé. I don't know what she is now. The wedding's off.

The wedding is off. is certainly off. If nothing else, I'm sure of that. She's Russian. I never in a million years thought I would fall in love with a Russian woman. Not that I have anything against Russians, you see, I don't. It's just the thought never crossed my mind. I'm American, as I'm sure you can tell about my accent, but I've lived in England for years. I always thought I would meet a nice English woman, or maybe a French woman, but a Russian? She's a very good. She's a beautiful woman. She has dark hair, milky skin, and the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. She's smart, fun to talk with, and she's caring in a way that's lacking in the world today.

She was perfect for me. It was too good to be true. I know that now. We met on one of those dating apps. This must have been three years ago now. We took it slow. Neither of us was in a rush, but it happened. It happened gradually. We fell in love with each other. We moved in together. A nice flat in central London, close enough to both of our jobs, that it worked out well. Everything was fine. No, it was more than fine. For three years, it was a dream. But this whole thing started when she invited me to come home with her to her little Russian village. And I did. We arrived on a Saturday. The village had no more than a few buildings in the central area, with houses clustered all around, very small and quaint. Isn't it nice? Vera said. She spoke nearly flawless English,

with just a hint of a Russian accent. It is, I said as we drove through in the rented car. The buildings were all a bit drab, but I could tell they were well cared for. I felt as if Vera was letting me in on a part of her life by inviting me along. She'd always spoken very highly of the place. It's her home after all. The summer afternoon sun slanted in through the window as Vera drove us, heading for the house, left to her by her parents years earlier. There were people out in front of their shops and houses, and they waved as we drove by,

but they also seemed to glare at me with a look of quiet distrust. I didn't think much of it at the time. The people in every small town I've ever been to are generally distrustful of outsiders. I hadn't expected Vera's village to be any different, so I shrugged it off. I guess word got around, because when we arrived at the small house with faded blue paint, there were two people waiting there for us, a man and a woman. They both looked to be about our age, middle to late 30s. As we got out of the car, they greeted us with a wave and a smile.

Although their outward demeanor was polite, I noticed that their eyes flicked to me often, and when they did, their smiles no longer reached those eyes. It was as if they were sizing me up. Hello, you two. Vera said to them in English. Then she turned to me. These are my dear friends, Sophia and Leo.

Friends, this is my fiancé, Marcus. I came around the car and shook each of their hands. Sophia was small and slight, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes so light they were almost white. She wore jeans and a green sweater. Leo was broad-shouldered. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and also wore comfortable, casual clothing. He squeezed my hand tight as he shook it. I squeezed back.

I'm no slouch myself, you know. Nice to meet you, I said in tattered rush. wincing an embarrassment. Vera laughed. Darling, they speak English, she said. The whole village does more or less. Oh, wow, I said. That's a relief. It's also quite rare, isn't it? Everyone speaks English these days. Sophia said in an accent nearly as flawless as Vera's. Yes, I suppose you're right. We went into the house, Vera leading the way. But just after we got into the house,

Leo called Vera in Russian. Vera looked from Leo to me. Why don't you take a look around the house? She said. I'll go with Leo and Sophia to get the bags. I nodded and stepped further into this small house. But when the three of them were gone, I stepped back to the door,

keeping myself hidden while glancing out at them. Something seemed strange about the way Vera was acting around these two. I wanted to know why. They stopped near the car and started talking in Russian. I listened hard, but could only pick out a few words. I heard Leo ask Vera if she was sure about something. He gestured at the house, which I took to mean he was gesturing toward me. He was asking if she was sure about me.

This would have been fairly normal, albeit somewhat rude, had it not been for the grave expressions all three of them wore. I then heard Sophia say something about children, but at the time, I wasn't completely sure that's what she said. I am now. I know that they were talking about children. Oh God, I'm going to be sick. Hand me the trash can, will you? Quick! Sorry, I just... Let me get on with it. Get this over with so it's in your hands. When they were done talking, they brought the bags and... side. We all talked for a little while. And then Leo and Sophia left, leaving Vera and I alone in the house. What were you guys talking about out there? I asked in a light tone. What? Vera looked surprised.

Like I'd asked her if she was cheating on me or something. Nothing. We were just catching up, you know, town gossip and all that. Ah, gotcha. I said, but I didn't believe her. I know her well enough to know when she's lying, something was going on. We ate dinner as the sun went down and then had a glass of wine each. We sat at the table, chatting like we always did. At a lull in the conversation, I suggested we go for a walk. It was something we often did in London after dinner, especially in the summer. No, I don't think I want to walk tonight, Pira said, smiling at me. No, I said. Well, that's okay. I think I'll go anyway. Just a quick stroll around your pretty little town. Her smile faltered for a moment, which made me very curious indeed. Why didn't she want me to go on a walk?

Okay, if you insist, she said. I'll go with you. I don't want you to get lost. You don't have to, I said. You can stay here and relax. No, I'll go. We strolled through the darkness, Vera holding my arm as we went. There were a few people out and about. There was something about the people that was bothering me, and I couldn't put my finger on it, not right away. We passed one house with the lights on in the windows. I glanced over and saw a little blonde girl staring at us out the window.

She couldn't have been more than five or six. As we passed, a woman appeared and yanked her. the little girl away from the window, looking fearfully over her shoulder at us as she shoved the child deeper into the house. That was odd, I said. Yeah, it was. Vera said, smiling strangely. Suddenly, I knew what was so strange about the people in the town. The little girl had reminded me. There aren't many children here, are there? I asked. What? There are some around. We just haven't seen many. We've only seen one, I said.

Just now, that's all. I mean, it's the middle of summer, and I haven't heard any children laughing or playing. I haven't seen any riding around on their bikes. Nothing. Very strange. Hmm, Vera said. It is a bit strange. But believe me, there are children here.

It's just like any other village. There's something else strange, I said. I haven't seen any older people. people either. Everyone I've seen looks to be around our age. No older than 40, I'd guess. Huh, Vera said. Well, we've only been here a few hours. You haven't been out much. That's true, I said, but it was still bothering me. We got back to Vera's house and got ready for bed. I caught her giving me strange, almost forlorn glances as we brushed our teeth and prepared for sleep. We barely spoke before getting in bed, which was odd for us.

The whole thing was turning out very strange, and he kept me up, staring at the ceiling, going over Vera's odd behavior during the trip. After a couple of hours lying there, I decided to get up and watch something to take my mind off things. I threw on a shirt and some shorts and headed out to the living room. I just turned on the television when I heard a faint scream from outside. At first, I thought it was some kind of strange bird, but then it sounded again, and I was sure it was a child screaming. I stepped outside on the porch and listened hard.

There it was again, faint and far away, but a child screaming for sure. I ran back inside and shoved my feet inside my shoes, not bothering to go into the bedroom to get socks. I tied the laces hurriedly and then rushed out the door again, running to where I thought the screams had come from. It's a small town, so it didn't take me long to reach the outskirts where there was a small warehouse-type building. It only had one door and no windows. And although I hadn't heard any more screaming since I'd left the house, something about the building looked sinister to me. Maybe it was the faint glow coming from the frosted glass front

door. Maybe it was the scraping of a shadow across that door every so often. Whatever it was, I decided to stay and watch it for a little while. Since the warehouse was on the outside of town, there were plenty of places to hide, bushes, tall grass, trees. I squatted down behind a couple of bushes and watched the warehouse for what must have been 10 minutes before anything happened,

before I finally saw an older person in the town and another child. The woman passed within 15 yards of my hiding place, coming from the town. It was hard to tell us, the dart, but she struck me as perhaps a little over 50 years old. She was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and she was carrying a small, unconscious child draped across her arms. I watched her walk calmly to the warehouse and disappear inside. My heart warred with my head. Half of me

wanted to stay put, while the other half wanted to see just what the hell they were doing to the kids in there. After seeing the woman and the unconscious, conscious, or God forbid, dead, child go into the building. I was sure it was where the screams I'd heard emanated from. After nearly 20 minutes of indecision, I decided to go inside. I closed the distance fast and opened the front door a crack, stepping inside when I saw it was clear. There was a sparsely furnished reception area that looked like any other warehouse reception area. There was an open doorway further in. That's where the dim light was coming from. I crept to the doorway and looked inside the warehouse, seeing only two rows of tall partitioned cubicles, one row on each side.

Although there was movement in a few of these cubicles, I could see shadows bouncing off the wooden partitions. I couldn't see what was actually happening in them. I ran to the nearest cubicle and saw that, at the back of it, there was a metal table with a drain in it, set against the warehouse wall. The pipe from the drain disappeared into the floor. Set under one side of this stainless steel table was a metal chest, secured with three combination padlocks. There were three fearsome metal hooks attached to chains hanging down over the table from a crossbar at the top of the tall cubicle walls. I swallowed, my throat clicking loudly. Perspiration building on my forehead and under my arms.

I peeked out from the cubicle, looking down the row to locate one that was occupied. There was movement in a cubicle two spaces down on the opposite side. A wet ripping sound came from there, and my stomach convulsed in rebellion. Stealing myself. I decided to make this quick. I didn't want to hang around inside longer than I had to. I moved as quickly as I could without making much noise, rushing to look into the cubicle, hoping this was all some big misunderstanding.

There was a man in the cubicle with his back to me. He was leaning over the table, working hard at something. Hanging from three hooks above the table were the dripping body parts of a small child. A head, a leg. It was a little blonde girl. Perhaps even the same one I'd seen earlier. Her dead gaze sliced into me as her severed head

rotated gently on the sway. chain. My stomach betrayed me at the gruesome sight, ejecting my half-digested dinner onto the concrete floor with a loud, retching sound, and an echoing splat. The man in the cubicle straightened up and turned around, hard eyes landing on me from above his blood-smeared mouth. He had some kind of strange object in his hand, the likes of which I'd never seen before. It looked like a combination of a lava lamp and an electric beater. There was a blue-glowing ooze in the bottom. And on top was a conflagration of blood and flesh, no doubt from the little dead girl. Before I could turn to run, someone tackled me from behind, and I went down hard on the concrete floor.

Cold hands reached for my neck, and I threw an elbow behind me and knocked the person off. I scrambled up off the ground and looked down to see that it was the old woman who had tackled me. Only she wasn't old anymore. She was young, maybe 20 years old. I only knew it was her because of the sweatpants and sweatshirt. shirt she wore and her build. It was her all right. She lunged at me, but I dodged back. The man was upon me then, and he swung a roundhouse at my temple, but I dodged back in the misk. I turned and ran. I ran out of there, and I kept running through the night, away from that

town. I finally found this police station. Thank goodness one of them speaks English. I told them my story, and then they put me in a cell for hours. Then you came and got me out of the cell, And now I've told you my story, too. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you? No, Mr. Stepleton, I don't. As a matter of fact, I'd like to thank you for bringing this to us. We'll take care of it. What will you do?

Are you going to arrest them? I'm afraid this one will require a slightly subtler approach. We need to know where they got this ability, and what it is exactly they do with the strange object you saw. Somehow, they're reversing the effort. effects of aging, and we need to know how. You're serious? You really believe me? Yes, I do.

I'm with an organization called the SCP Foundation. We deal with this kind of thing all the time, Mr. Steepleton. And what about me? Am I to be set free? Yes. Although I'm afraid we have to administer an amnestic before you're allowed to go free. Amnestic? What's that?

It will make you forget all about this incident. You won't remember. a thing. That's fantastic. Because you know the funny part? I had a lot of time to think while running all night. And I think that Vera wanted to share it with me. She wanted to share a long, long life with me. She wanted me to live there with her and partake in their rituals and never grow old. She would have eased me into it, I'm sure. But I went and ruined her plans. And I'll be honest with you. If I'm allowed to walk around with that knowledge in my head, I may be tempted. I may take her up on it. That's how much I love her. So please, erase it. Erase it all.

I don't ever want that temptation. Not ever. SEP 776-A is the adult population of a remote town located in the far northwest corner of Russia, estimated at 653 individuals. The members of SCP 776-A have discovered a method of reversing biological aging, designated SCP-776-B. The ritual involves the sacrifice of a human being who must be younger than the performer of the ritual, with children being the preferable subjects of sacrifice.

Members of SCP-776-A claim to have been using SCP-776,000, 6-B for over 200 years to sustain eternal life and semi-eaternal youth. Members of SCP-776-A refuse to divulge the origins of their ritual. The average age of SCP 776-A members ranges from 23 to 51 years of age. 51 is the average age when members enact this ritual, after which they're approximately 28 years younger. The members of this town bear and raise children simply for the purposes of saccharacter. sacrificing them in