The SCP Experience - The Secrets Beneath Ackerman Hill | SCP-4295

Episode Date: July 18, 2025

A young man discovers his grandmother is mystically bound to her crumbling Victorian home—and when his father sets it ablaze, the horrifying truth about the house’s soul is revealed. This story was derived from ⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4295 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. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You need to get out of this house. Martha Ackerman stared at her son with narrowed eyes. You know I'll never do that. Ma, please. This place has fallen apart. I've spoken to some developers who would be willing to offer a great price. You what? Martha rose from the table with surprising speed. I've spoken to some developers.

I heard you. I'm not deaf. Well, then what's the problem? I'll never let those bastards take my house. Never. Michael sighed. You're being ridiculous. This house is part of me. Why can't you see that?

It's just a house. Get out. Martha raised a withered hand toward the door, and Michael knew better than to disobey. She watched her son leave, shoulders hunched in defeat and annoyance. You'll never understand, she whispered to the house.

The two-story Victorian house had been in the Ackerman family for generations. While the surrounding houses had been torn down and rebuilt over the years, the mysterious house on the hill had remained exactly the same. It had acquired a weather-worn appearance, which didn't help the ghostly associations the neighbors attributed to it. Neither did the fact that Martha never left the house. Nobody aside from her family had actually seen the woman in decades.

If it weren't for the occasional appearance of her son and his family, they would have thought she had died by now. But despite her many ailments and constant injuries, Martha was still kicking. And she was just as attached to the house as ever. She knew the day would come when her son tried to persuade her to leave, but she also knew that she never would. She was born in the house, and she planned to die in the house. She belonged to the house just as much as it belonged to her,

and nobody was going to take that away from her. Travis admired his grandmother's stubbornness, even if he didn't understand her strange attachment to the crumbling building she called home. He liked the way she refused to give in to his father like everyone else did. His mother was concerned about Martha for an entirely different reason, though. Your alopecia is getting worse, she stated at the dinner table. And did you notice that bruise on her thigh? They had just returned from a visit with Martha,

where Michael was once again unsuccessful in convincing his mother to leave. He didn't seem to hear his wife. wife as he angrily chewed his steak. The roof needs retiling. One of the stairs in the basement has collapsed entirely. How can she stand to live like that? What's she going to do if the roof suddenly caves in one day? Michael glanced at his wife, as if the thought had never occurred to him, but the worry in his eyes slowly receded, and a smile graced his lips instead. Travis glanced between his parents an alarm. He'd seen that look on his father's face before, and it never ended well. Michael? Felicity seemed to share Travis's concern.

She coughed to clear the waiver in her voice, but they all heard it. If she's not going to leave that house on her own, we'll have to force her out. A chill crept over Travis as he looked at his father's determined face. Michael was used to getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was that house. Travis liked to think that Michael cared for Martha in some capacity, even though he never seemed to show it. He'd been obsessed with selling the house ever since he learned of its value. That's a horrible thing to say, Felicity exclaimed. You can't force her to do anything.

You know she said that she'll only leave when she's dead. Are you planning to kill her? Of course not. How does my mother we're talking about? Exactly. Travis watched his mother cross her arms as if the matter was settled. But the spark of an idea was still twinkling in his father's eyes. And he knew that the matter wasn't settled.

at all. Michael had the same look on his face after Travis told him that he was interested in a theater program at the local college. That flash of worry quickly followed by inspiration. Michael wanted Travis to play football, not friends around a stage. So, the next thing Travis knew, he was kicked out of the theater club at school and recruited for the football team. This had everything to do with the fact that the Ackermans generously donated to the school, and Michael was best friends with the vice principal. Travis always had a tense relationship with his father, but things got even worse after that. And now it seemed his father was planning to use his manipulative nature once again to get exactly what he wanted. But this time, Travis was

determined to stop him. He would not allow his father to treat his dear grandmother the same way. Instead of attending football practice the next day, Travis appeared on his grandmother's doorstep with a bag of tools. What is this? She arched her brow at the bag as he stepped through the doorway. Grandma, you and I both know that Dad wants this house, and he's going to look for every excuse to get it.

But we're not going to let that happen. We? Yes, we. I don't fully understand your fascination with this house, but if it's important to you, it's important to me. So, I'm going to help you fix it up. Oh, well, that's... Martha glanced from her grandson to the aging house behind her.

You know, that's very considerate, but I don't just let anyone work on the house. I know. You don't trust anyone with it. Will you trust me? Her lips pulled into a smile, and she nodded. As long as you promised to be careful, I will. Don't worry. Then have at it. Martha gestured for Travis to come inside and allowed him to roam her home freely. Bit by bit, Travis fixed the broken parts of the house.

He replaced old floorboards, he fixed the holes in the walls, and he strengthened the banister on the stairs, so it no longer wobbled. He worked with care, although even removing the rotted sections, seemed to cause his grandmother pain. He heard her groan as he pried another board free. Are you all right, Grandma? I'm fine. Just keep doing what you're doing. So that's what he did.

Martha insisted on feeding him before he went home, and as they sat down to a pot roast, Travis could almost swear that his grandmother looked better, too. Grandma, can I ask you a question? She cocked her brow in that wise way of hers. Is the question why I love this house so much? Travis shrugged. Yeah, I mean, I know it's been in the family for generations,

but is that a reason to hold on to it? Martha leaned back in her chair and surveyed the worn kitchen with its peeling paint, grime-covered floor tiles and ancient appliances. This place isn't just a house. It's more like a friend. It's always been there for me ever since I was little. I belong to this house as much as it belongs to me. We're a part of each other.

She had tried to explain that to Michael countless times, but he never understood. She could still remember those awful nights when her parents' angry screams carried up to her bedroom. She would hide in the little crawl space in her closet, and no matter how big she got, she always seemed to fit. The space blocked out the sound and enveloped her like a hug until she finally fell asleep. She was almost relieved when her parents died in an accident and left her the house when she was 18. It truly felt like home after they were gone, and she could enjoy. the peace and quiet of the place she loved best. She explored every nook and cranny until she knew the house like the back of her hand. But what about grandpa? Martha shook her head,

unsure of how to answer Travis's inquiry. It wasn't until she married Michael's father that she stopped leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. At first, it was to hide the bruises, but over time she came to rely on the house for protection, and it proved that it proved that itself time and again by providing a distraction in the form of something breaking or a strange sound coming from the walls. It didn't always work, but Martha appreciated the effort. One fateful night, the house revealed its unquestionable loyalty. Michael was only a few months old, and his constant cries were getting on his father's nerves. Martha rushed to soothe her son, but that night her husband had had enough.

up. Michael's cries grew louder in response. Martha hugged him to her chest and cowered in the corner of the room. I'm trying, she said, tears cascading down her face. Martha's eyes widened in panic. It was dark in the room, but the moon shone on her husband's face, revealing the dark pools of his eyes. He stepped forward and Martha pulled back, cradling Michael even closer. No. It was the first time she'd ever dared to refuse her husband. His eyes darkened even further, but Martha refused to relinquish her son. She had a terrible feeling that if she were to let him go now, she would never get him back. What did you say to me? You can't have him. He's my son. No, he's not. She didn't mean to say it, but the words fell from her lips in a whisper. Excuse me? Are you saying I'm not Michael's father?

No, that's not what I meant. But it was too late. Her husband had gotten the wrong idea, and there was no way he would let it go. She had a split second to return Michael to his crib before her husband was upon her. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her from the room, away from Michael's pitiful cries.

She struggled against him, but it was no use. You have no right to speak to me that way. None. His hands moved to her throat and began to squeeze. She was dimly aware of her baby in the room next door, the steep stairs behind her. She tried to scream, but she couldn't even do that. Her husband snarled in her face as her vision darkened. He took a step forward, and she inwardly prepared herself for the brutal fall that was to follow. But then something happened.

She never knew exactly what, but suddenly they were both falling down the stairs. She was quickly caught by the railing, which held her steady. but her husband had no such luck. He grasped for the banister, but he was constantly just out of reach. He collapsed in a heap at the bottom, a dark red pool staining the floorboards around his head. Martha was suddenly aware of two things. Her husband was dead, and her house had saved her life. That was the day she vowed never to leave her house again.

Grandma? She pulled from her reverie by Travis's concerned expression. The poor boy knew very little about his grandfather, and Martha was going to keep it that way. Your grandfather's death was a tragic accident, but it wasn't the house's fault. She lied. Travis shrugged. Yeah, I guess so. Martha smiled at her grandson.

She had a feeling he would understand if she told him what really happened. But it wasn't his burden to carry. Instead, she said, This house holds many secrets. some of which you can never even hope to discover. What's that supposed to mean? You'll have to find out for yourself. They were both quiet for a few minutes,

each listening to the moans and groans of the old house. The neighborhood kids liked to pretend the place was haunted. They would dare each other to step on the porch and knock on the door. At first, it didn't bother her. But when they began growing bolder, she became afraid for the house. She couldn't risk them getting too close. The next time a group of boys knocked on her door, she was ready. The poor boys were terrified when they encountered the ancient crown, screaming like a

banshee on the other side of the door. She felt a little bad, but she hadn't been bothered since. Not by them anyway. What is your father going to say when he finds out you're helping me? Michael had never been one for physical violence, but he was more like his father than she liked. But Travis was a whole different breed. He was a kind, gentle soul, more like her. She wanted to give the house to Travis once she passed.

He was the only other person who might understand it the way she did. Of course, the bond had some drawbacks, but they no longer bothered her. Travis crossed his arms, but Martha spotted fear in his eyes. I don't care. He can think what he likes. Be careful, my boy. Bad things happen to those who cross your father. Then you should be careful too. Martha nodded.

I know what I'm getting into. Travis could only hope that was true, for both their sakes. You are forbidden from returning to that house. Michael's voice was stern and left no room for argument. Travis had been fixing up the place for the last two weeks, and somehow his father had finally found out. He was angrier than Travis had ever seen him. Even his mother looked frightened as she glanced between her husband and son.

You're saying I can't see my grandmother anymore? She can come here. You know she doesn't leave the house? Well, if you mean that much to her, she will. Travis's jaw dropped at his father's audacity. Michael, Travis has been doing a good thing. By going behind my back? It's not like that.

He's just trying to take care of his grandma. And you have to admit, both she and the house have been looking better. Michael ignored his wife and zeroed in on Travis. If you think that just because you're doing a little bit of carpentry, I'll stop trying to sell the house. You're wrong. That money could put you through college, Travis. Don't you get that? You're only hurting yourself here. And you're hurting grandma. She's my mother. I know what's best for her. She'll be better off with a chunk of change in a new living situation. But... Michael pounded a fist on the table and speared Travis with a dark look. Don't go back to that house. Do you understand? Travis had no choice but to nod in agreement. His father's face haunted his nightmares. But that

The next day, Michael was in a strangely good mood. He whistled as he made his morning coffee and wished Travis good luck at football practice. Before leaving, he called to Felicity. We're having a guest for dinner. Then he was gone. Felicity furrowed her brows and stared at her son. What guest? Travis simply shrugged and went to his room.

He hid his tools in his gym bag before heading back downstairs, but his mother didn't notice him anyway. He wasn't sure where his father had gone, but hopefully it was far away from his grandmothers. He couldn't imagine how much trouble he would get into if he was found there, but it would be worth it. Seeing the joy on his grandmother's face as he fixed up the house had brought him more pleasure than even acting did. He was even starting to like the house. He didn't exactly have the same bond with it that his grandmother did, but he was beginning to understand how she felt. As Travis pulled to the car into his grandmother's street, his heart dropped. His father's car was parked a few houses

down. What on earth was he doing here? His good mood gave no indication that he was making another useless attempt to sell the house, unless he was sure that he would succeed this time. Now that Travis was fixing up the house, Michael couldn't get it condemned. The only way Martha was going to leave the house was if there was no house left. The thought struck him like a punch to the gut. No, his father wouldn't go that far. He couldn't. But as the first lick of flame rose into the sky, he realized why his father had said a guest was coming to dinner. Travis bolted out of the car and rushed towards the house. An orange glow emanated from the upstairs bedroom window, and smoke was already billowing into the sky. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening.

Grandma! He shouted as he neared the front door. It flew open before he could reach it, and he saw his father half carrying, half pulling his grandma. Travis, help me! Travis had never heard such desperation in his father's voice before. His plea was quickly followed by a horrifying scream. It took him a moment to register where it came from. That's when he realized what was happening. His grandmother was on fire.

Water! Get water! His father screamed as he hurled Martha onto the lawn where she continued, shrieking in pain. Travis ran into the house, aware that the fire could spread to the ground floor at any moment. Smoke was already making its way down the stairs. He rushed to the sink and filled the biggest bowl he could find. His hands were shaking as he made his way to the lawn,

but he managed to pour it on his grandmother's burning arm. It should have been enough water to douse the flame, but nothing happened. The fire continued to spread to Martha's chest and torso as it raged in the house behind them. I don't understand! What's going on? Michael shouted. In that moment, Travis understood.

There was no use going back in for more water. Unless he could put out the fire in the house, his grandmother didn't stand a chance. Martha locked eyes with Travis, and he knew he was right. She paused her screaming just enough to turn her gaze to Michael and use her last breath to wheeze. I am the house. Travis grabbed his father by the shoulders and forced him away from the burning,

screaming mass on the lawn. The air stank with the stench of burning flesh, but Michael didn't seem to notice. He continued staring at his mother in confusion. No, no, no, he repeated over and over. The fire trucks arrived in a matter of moments, but it was too late for Martha or the house. Michael must have covered the place in accelerant so it would burn quickly. Travis wanted to scream at his father, but the man was barely lucid. He didn't seem to understand what was going on, but everything's...

suddenly made sense to Travis. The way his grandma started balding when the roof tiles fell off, the strange bruises that correlated to the parts of the house with rotten floorboards. No wonder she looked better when he started fixing up the place. He was literally fixing his grandmother at the same time. Fix the house, fix the person. Destroy the house, destroy the person. If only he understood sooner.

If only he could have forced his father to understand, But as Travis surveyed the heap of ash on the lawn and the wreckage behind it, he knew that his father would never have listened to him. Martha had told her son about the connection countless times already. If he didn't get it after all this, he never would. Even now, Michael's brain shut down instead of accepting the truth. He would never truly accept what he had done. But Travis knew, and he would never forget.

SCP 4295-A is a two-story Victorian house in Portland, Maine, built in 1892. SCP-4295-B is its owner, 62-year-old Martha Ackerman. Various parts of SCP-4295-A are mapped to different parts of SCP 4295-B's body, causing her to experience a tactile sensation where the corresponding portion of SCP-4295-5-B Dash-A is touched. Movement on the second story is felt in the upper body. Movement on the first story is felt in the lower body, etc. In addition, injuries to SCP-4295-B's body

are reflected in equivalent damage to SCP 4295-A in the associated area, and damage or decay to SCP 4295-A appears as damage to SCP-4295-B's body. body. These injuries do not respond to typical medical treatment and can only be reversed by repairing SCP 4295-A. This was discovered during routine testing to confirm the anomaly when a section of the handrail on the basement stairs gave way due to rot. This caused a deep laceration to SCP 4295-B's right thigh. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-moyerned for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Prere to play a pleasure with the Ojo.

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