The SCP Experience - The Shadow in the Corner | SCP-017

Episode Date: June 22, 2026

A D-Class prisoner is sent into SCP-017’s containment chamber to change a single burned-out spotlight — but one shadow is all it takes for his friend to vanish without a trace. Trapped between a hungry anomaly in the corner and a sadistic guard on the comms, Ziggy realizes the real monster may not be the one made of darkness. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ ⁠⁠⁠ Author:  Jake Bible * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This episode is brought to you by Activia. You might already be eating yogurt, but not all yogurts are created equal. Activia contains over 1 billion probiotics per serving to survive and reach the gut alive. When it comes to gut health, Activia is the number one family doctor-recommended probiotic yogurt brand. Choose Activia, feel good from the inside out. Visitactivia.ca for more details. This spring, Denham gets a softer, lighter update.

Introducing Old Navy's drapey denim wide leg, a new fit that moves with you. It's everything you want denim to feel like for summer. Easy, breathable, and effortlessly cool. With a fit that creates natural movement and a wide leg that feels modern, not overwhelming. Plus, that signature, wait, for this price, moment. Old Navy's drapey denim wide leg.

Hey, y'all, it's Kelly Clarkson with Wayfair. Ever order furniture online and wonder, what if, like, what if it doesn't hold up? That sofa was four days old. You should have ordered from Wayfair. With Wayfair, there's no what-if. Just style you love and quality you can trust. Visit Wayfair.ca. Wayfair, every style, every home. If it wasn't for the protective suit that he wears, everyone watching the security cameras would see Ziggy pissing himself.

It wouldn't be the first time. Ziggy has a weak bladder. And it has plagued him his entire life. Once, while playing dodgeball in middle school, he got hit in the belly, and his bladder just emptied itself. He didn't even feel like he needed to peeve it. and knowing his proclivity toward unfortunate accidents, he hadn't drunk water for hours. Yet, there he was, 25-6th graders all staring at his gym shorts as they dripped onto the polished wood floor of Ulysses S-grant Middle School's main gym. He was known as Pissball Peters until high school graduation.

Now, he's known as D-011-6798, and the orange jumpsuit he and all the other D-class peons at the foundation site are required to wear is sticky and warm inside his protective suit of reflective material. He prefers to be called Ziggy, but the guards like throwing his assigned D-class number in his face, just to remind him and his other D-class colleagues that they are no different than when they were in prison, county lock-up, sweating on a work gang detail, or rotting away in a mental institution. They are owned and controlled 24-7. What's the hold-up, D-0116798? Drudgement shouts over the calm as Ziggy stands stock still,

staring at the small shadow in the corner of the room, the inside of his protective suit, smelling worse than an interstate rest-stop men's bathroom during Memorial Day weekend. Ziggy doesn't know how to answer the question. He's not sure if he can even answer the question. To do that, he'd have to think about what exactly the hold-up is, why he pissed himself, why he is terrified to move even an inch. Did you see that?

Ziggie whispers. Speak up D-0116-798. Drudgeman shouts. Ziggy winces. He winces because of the shout and winces because it's drudgeman doing the shouting. Why did it have to be this prick to supervise Ziggy and Dominic's work?

Dominic, Ziggy's good friend, one of the few he's made here at the foundation site. Dominic, gone in the blink of an eye, swallowed by that thing. No, not swallowed. Dominic wasn't swallowed. He was... Hugged?

Yeah, hugged. As crazy as that sounds, the shadow in the corner lifted up and wrapped itself around Dominic. It was huge enough to wrap itself around a living man one second,

then it was back to being small the next second. Dominic was nowhere to be seen. Hey, D-0116-798. What seems to be the problem, Slacker? Get your ass moving and change that damn spotlight ball

before SCP 17 eats your ass. Dudgeman doesn't silence the comms right away. and Ziggy hears the guard's sadistic laughter. Time that thing ate somebody. Trust me, you don't want to see it up close. So move your ass, D-Class. I saw it eat, Ziggie mumbles, then clears his throat and speaks up.

I saw it, eat. You hear that Dredgeman? I saw it. It ain't Dominic, you asshole. Ziggy knows he's going to pay for the outburst. Dredgeman is legendary for taking his frustrations out on the D-class personnel. He once locked a guy in a cell with some cryptid, either a band, and he was a band, and he Banshee or possibly a willow wisp in the full form, and that D-Class was a raving lunatic for the

rest of his life. Dredgeman thought it was hilarious, and had performed a mocking version of the poor guy's screams for his fellow guards for months. Now, here Ziggie is, stuck in a brilliantly bright hellscape with a fresh bulb for the burned-out spotlight in his right hand, and an asshole guard in his right ear, while he is still trying to figure out what just happened to his friend. Dredgeman! Ziggy shouts. Yeah, D-011-6798. I hurt you. The tone in Drudgeman's voice makes Ziggie's entire body go cold. The warm piss running down his legs turns to trickles of ice water.

If Ziggie survives what's in this cell, he's not sure he'll survive Drudgeman. He hasn't heard the guard this mad in a long, long while. Ziggy stays very still, like a gazelle waiting for the lion to pounce, knowing that no matter which way he runs, he's not going to get away. Where's your buddy, D-011-6798? Where the hell is D-024491? If Ziggy weren't so terrified, he'd laugh. He tip his head back and just let loose with a big old guffaw.

That was something his grandmother always said to him, that a good guffaw was all you needed to fix what ailed you. Ziggy loved his grandmother very much. But she didn't ever have to face a demon shadow that Ziggy is fairly sure just ate his good friend, despite the fact that Dominic was wearing a reflective suit that should have repelled the monster, not to mention the massive spotlights that fill every corner of the room and put out enough light for a pro football team to play a full game in the middle of the night. D-1-1-6798. I'm talking to you. Where the hell is your buddy?

I told you. Ziggy replies in a surprisingly calm voice. It took him. Who took him? Not who. What? S-C-P-17. It... like, wrapped itself around Dominic and just took him. Jesus Christ, step away to take a piss and this shit happens. Grudgeman complains over the calm. And what? You did nothing? You just stood there? Huh? What was I supposed to do?

Get the hell out of there is what you were supposed to do. We could have brought in a team to subdue the anomaly, then sent you two back in to fix the damn light. Ziggy backs toward the door. His eyes never leaving the smudge of a shadow still crouched in the far corner of the pure white wall. room. Reaching backward, Ziggy feels around until he finds the door seam. Then he smacks it with all of his strength. No handle, asshole. And I tried to call you, but you didn't answer. Like I said, I was taking abyss. Same. What? Ziggy shakes his head. Then he looks down and stares at the huge

bulb in his hand. His head tilts up, and he studies where the bulb needs to go. A bank of spotlights fills a high corner of the room. Only one bulb is burned out. Apparently, that's all it takes. Not wanting to think about what he saw, Ziggy tries to concentrate on the task at hand. How in the hell is he going to get up to the bank of spotlights and change the burned-out bulb? Where's the ladder? Ziggy asks.

There was supposed to be a ladder in here. Dominic tried, but we were going to look for it when the thing... Ziggy can't finish. He'd pee himself again if he had anything left. All the memories come flooding back, and Ziggy stifles a gasp as the images of Dominic's death flood his mind. They were standing there, the two of them in their reflective suits, glaring up at the impossibly bright bank of spotlights. Even with shaded visors that were reflective on the outside, the glare was painfully strong. What the hell, drudgeman? Are we supposed to

Spider-Man or asses up there? Dominic had asked. Yeah, where's the ladder? You said we didn't need to bring one. Ziggy added, no response. Yo, Drudgeman! Dominic shouted. We need a damn ladder. Dominic turned toward Ziggy, even though neither of them could see the other's face behind the reflective visors. Maybe you can boost me up, and I can stand on your shoulders? Dominic had suggested. Are you nuts? You'll fall and break your damn neck. Nah, I'll be fine. You hold the bulb. I climb up on you, get the old bulb out. You hand me the fresh one, and I'll screw it in. We'll be done before the first lunch bell rings.

We should wait for drudgemen. If we wait for him, all the pudding cups will be gone. Ziggie laughed. No one ate the pudding cups. They all tasted like stale ass. How's that sound, drudgeman? Dominic shouted, We get this done and extra pudding cups for all, right? Still no response. See, he's MIA, and I don't feel like waiting around for him to show back up. Pudding cups aside, man. It's pulled chicken sandwiches today.

You know most of those other D-class bastards are going to go back for seconds or thirds, which leaves us with the scraps of skin and fat and broken buns. Not cool. Visit BetMGM Casino and check out the newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager. Ontario only.

Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connects Ontario at 1-866-531-2,600 to speak to an advisor. Free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. This episode is brought to you by L'Oreal Group. Beauty is a powerful force that moves us. That's why L'Oreal Group has built a business that is inclusive at its heart

with 100% of its brands, championing diversity. With 25,000 professional opportunities for people under 30 worldwide and 54% of leading positions held by women, diversity is a strength that helps L'Oreal Group create the best beauty products for all people. Visit L'Oreal.com to learn more. Ziggy studied the corner of the room. If he placed his hands on the walls and braced his feet against the floor, he could hold Dominic's weight. Of course, he'd still have to handle the trade-off of the bulbs, but that wouldn't be too hard.

Ziggy nodded. Let's do it. Ziggy got into position, tucking the bulb into a small pouch attached to his belt. He braced his feet and placed his hands, then nodded again. Climb away, dude. Dominic did just that. He awkwardly clambered up over Ziggy's back until he got his knees, up onto Ziggy's shoulders.

Then, putting a hand on Ziggy's head, Dominic slowly straightened up. Shit. Ziggy frowned. What? I can't quite reach. Great. Okay, get down and we'll wait for drudgement.

Screw that. Ziggy felt Dominic's weight shift as the man went up onto his toes. Stay still, Ziggs. I can almost reach it. Ziggy stood as still as he could. Got it. Just need to twist a little and pull.

And there. It's loose. Here, I'll hand it. Dominic's weight shifted again, and then it just wasn't there anymore. Ziggy was knocked off his feet as Dominic's boot slammed into his helmet. It wasn't a tactical helmet, not meant to protect against any sort of heavy impact. It was a soft helmet, made only of stiff reflective material and a solid face visor. There was zero protection, and Ziggy grunted as he fell hard, slightly dazed.

But at least he had the presence of mine not to land on the pouch and crush the new bulb. "'Sone of you bitch,' Dominic said. Ziggi pushed up onto his hands and knees just as his friend stood up. Dominic's helmet was torn and hanging limply against his left shoulder. He stood there with a semi-grin on his face. His brow furrowed as he looked back up at the bank of lights. Yeah, we're going to need that ladder. Where the hell is drudgeman?'

Before Ziggie could answer, everything changed in the cell. For just one moment, Dominic stood in just a way that his head, no longer wearing the helmet, hence no longer reflective, cast a shadow behind him. That was how it took. Ziggy watched in horror as something thick and black and huge pounced onto Dominic, enveloping his head first, then the rest of his body,

like a blanket made of shadow had come alive and was swallowing Dominic up before Ziggy could even scream. Ziggs! Was the last thing Dominic said. Then he was gone. Only the huge shadow remained. Ziggy wasn't sure then, but he is sure now. That thing was watching.

the entire time it absorbed Dominant. Ziggy has unfortunately seen his fair share of sick, sadistic pleasure before, and that thing, whatever it was, was very pleased. Then it shrank and shrank and slowly returned to its small, huddled form that currently sits in the corner opposite Ziggy. Hey, D-01167798. Dredgeman's voice brings Ziggy out of his nightmare recollection. What? Sorry. What did you say?

I said that the ladder is in the wall. There's a compartment next to the door down by the floor. It should be easy to find. It runs lengthwise, so get down on your knees and feel around. When you find the seam, just press the wall. The compartment door will pop out. Ziggy is close to the door, so he must be close to the ladder compartment. He gets down on his hands and knees and starts hunting around.

Every couple of seconds, he glances over his shoulder at the small shadow. It hasn't moved since it shrank down after eating Dominic. There's a click and a long compartment door. maybe three meters, pops out of the wall by about an inch. Ziggy grabs the edge with his gloves and pulls. The door opens vertically, falling flat onto the floor, revealing a 10-foot step ladder folded inside the compartment. There's a hiss, and Ziggy spins around.

Did it move? Is the shadow still in the same spot? Ziggy watches the thing closely for a few seconds. It doesn't even twitch. Returning to the ladder, Ziggy grabs a rung and pulls it free of the compartment. It's one six, seven, nine eight. That wasn't so hard, was it? Just got to stop whining like a bitch boy and do the work. Ziggie ignores judgment. He can't afford the distraction. As he gets the ladder free and begins to stand up, Ziggy notices the issue immediately. There's no light inside the compartment. Yeah, it is lit up from the cell's lights, but not completely. Ziggy hears the thing before he sees it. It's like a rustling of leaves on an autumn breeze. Ziggy, as if his life depends on it, which it most certainly does, hooks his toe under the compartment door and kicks it up, setting it back in place and covering any exposed shadows.

The rustling slows, then stops. What you're waiting for, D-0116798? The mess has pulled chicken sandwiches for lunch, and I'm not missing out because of your lazy ass. Jesus, has the guy already forgotten that Dominic is missing? Devoured by the thing in the corner? Neither of them is having pulled chicken sandwiches when they are done with this hellish task. Dredgeman will probably be dealing with HR for a week,

while Ziggy has a feeling he's either going to end up in solitary confinement or the foundation will simply terminate him and not have to worry about any blowback from Dominic's death. Keeping his back to the shadow, Ziggy picks up the ladder and walks it over to the corner, setting it up under the bank of spotlights that proved to be Dominic's downfall. Another rustle of leaves, and Ziggy spins around, almost losing his grip on the ladder.

He balances the ladder against the wall as he studies the shadow. Is it bigger than it was before? Ziggy thinks so, but he isn't sure. All he's really sure of is that he wants the hell out of this cell. He focuses back on the ladder and gets it set up under the bank of spotlights, making sure each foot is secured on the polished white floor. Giving the ladder a shake, Ziggy is happy with how it stands, so he grabs a rung and begins to climb. Halfway up the ladder, Ziggy freezes. Dudgeman, are you watching me? Yeah, so? What's the anomaly doing? I don't know. You want me to watch you or it? Can't do both. Ziggy wonders how in the hell

drudgement even got a job at the foundation site. He wonders how half the guards got their jobs. Most are just a step above Renicopp and ability, and just below pissed off Honeybadger and attitude. They act like making the D-Class personnel's lives as difficult as possible is their main job, when they are supposed to be making sure the anomalies in the various cells stay in those cells and don't harm anyone. Of course, having been in and out of various prison institutions his whole life, Ziggy isn't exactly surprised that the guards are useless hunks of abusive junk. But, right at this moment, he really wished they weren't, especially drudgemen. Daring to sneak a peek, Ziggy swills his head and stares at the shadow. Oh, it's bigger for sure, and it has shifted

slightly. It's still crouched low, but it's no longer wrapped about itself as much as it was before. Ziggie can see some definition in the shadow. What could be a leg here? What could be an arm there? And what could be a face looking out from under a shrouded hood? Ziggy slowly starts to climb back down the ladder. Drudgeman, let me out! He barks.

Open the door. He gave me out of the cell right now. Are you kidding? Drudgman laughs. That door doesn't open until the bulb has changed. D-1-1-6-798. That's the job. Completed, and I'll open the door.

The anomaly is moving, drudgeman. It already ate Dominic, and now it's going to... Allegedly, 4491. Ziggy's eyes are still on the shadow. It's moving a millimeter at a time, but it is moving. But how? The lights should keep it at bay. Did it see the shadows in the ladder compartment?

Is it fighting the light so we can get to that darkness? What happens if it does get to that darkness? What happens to Ziggy then? He doesn't want to find out. Jumping to the floor, Ziggy hurries to the outline of the door and starts pounding on it. Switch out the bull. Drudgeman laughs again.

Not zero one one six seven nine eight. I let you out. And this entire job has to be resubmitted. You know what happens then? I miss out on pooled chicken sandwiches because I'm buried in paperwork for the next six hours. It'll take up the rest of my shift. Not happening.

Switch the ball D-1-16798. Ziggy's gloved hands slam against the outline of the door. My name is Ziggy. I don't care. Ziggy moans. The fear is about to stop his heart. He takes in a few short breaths like his therapist has said to do. But they don't really help.

He only ends up feeling lightheaded and terrified. Ziggy rests his soft helmet against the door. He mumbles words of encouragement to himself. What's that? The hell up, D-116798? Shaking his head. Ziggy pushes away from the door's outline and turns his attention back to the ladder. He'd piss himself again if he could,

just to get it out of the way. Then he walks back to the ladder and climbs it. Eat shit, Ziggy mumbles. He makes it to the top of the ladder and reaches up to unscrew the burned out bulb. His fingers just brush the tip of the bulb. The ladder isn't tall enough. What the hell, drudgeman? Oh, yeah, right.

I was supposed to check that before I sent you two in there. Don't sweat it. Just stand on the very top, and you can reach it. He weren't supposed to stand on the very top. It says it right here in the plastic. Not a step. Do not stand on top. Right here, drudgeman.

Yeah, well, tough. Ziggy fumes. He wants to scream. Ziggy moves his right foot onto the very top of the ladder. Then he takes a deep breath and moves his left foot up too. He can feel the precariousness of his position. The ladder doesn't wobble, but it definitely doesn't feel secure. A hard sneeze, and Ziggy will be falling ten feet onto his ass if he's lucky.

Though with his luck today, he'll probably snap his neck instead. Steadying himself, he reaches for the burned to be. out bulb once more. His fingers wrap around it, and he twists and twists and twists. Then the spent bulb comes free, and Ziggy starts to set it onto the pouch so he can grab the fresh one, but the ladder shifts just enough that Ziggy begins to lose his balance. He shoves a hand against the wall for stability, but that sends him off balance even more. The ladder shifts under him, then he begins to fall over. In desperation, Ziggy reaches up and grabs onto the steel frame that has been powder-coated white and holds the bank of spotlights in place.

Hey, don't do that. Ziggy ignores drudgeman's shout. He ignores the sound that he believes is the shadow getting ready to attack him. He ignores every single bit of stimuli, except for the groaning the steel frame is making. A bolt comes loose from the wall. Two more bolts come loose, and Ziggy feels himself dropped by a couple of inches. No shit, Ziggy thinks, as another bolt comes free and the bank of lights shifts diagonally. A chunk of wall comes loose, revealing an empty dark space.

face behind. Dredgeman yells. Ziggy looks down and sees the ladder below him. He can make the drop. It's not that far. But if he lands on the ladder, he'll snap an ankle for sure. But he doesn't have a choice. Another bolt pops out, and the entire bank is about to collapse.

Ziggy lets go. Manages to land his feet between the rungs of the ladder, then rushes to the cell door. But before he can get there, the door opens in Drudgment. His rifle up at his shoulder, hurries in. You have ruined my day, did zero one one six, seven, nine, eight. Now I am going to ruin yours. Ziggy frowns, unsure what is happening. Then he sees Drudgeman take aim, centering the rifle's barrel on Ziggy's chest.

What the hell, man? Ziggy yells and runs to his left, desperate to get out of the line of fire. Drudgeman adjusts his aim, tracking Ziggy. You broke foundation property, D-0116798. That's a shooting offense. You, asshole, this is all your damn fault. Drudgment laughs and laughs. Nah, the brass will see how you screwed this up.

I'll be fine. He's about to shoot poor Ziggy when the bank of lights comes fully loose from the wall and crashes to the floor, plunging a good portion of the cell into shadow. Ziggy throws himself to the floor just as Drudgeman opens fire. Then the gunfire stops, and Drudgeman fills the silence with his screams. Ziggy stays on the ground, his arms covering his head. He hears awful noises the moment Drudgeman's screams are cut off. Wet, slurping noises, crunching noises.

He had been too stunned to hear them when Dominic was attacked. Now, helplessly cowering on the floor, it's all he can hear. A claxon blairs, thankfully drowning out the horrid noises. Ziggy waits. When he isn't attacked, he slowly turns his head and looks about the cell. A huge shadow slips out of the open door. He swears the thing pauses to look at him, but he isn't sure. Then it's gone out into the hallway, where the screams start almost immediately.

Ziggy crawls over to the door and slowly closes it. He rests his back against it and takes off his helmet, glad to no longer be smelling his own urine. I'll just stay here until the screen stop, he says to himself, which is exactly what he does. SCP 17 is a humanoid figure, approximately 80 centimeters in height, anatomically similar to a small child, but with no discernible identifying features. SCP 17 seems to be composed of a shadowy smoke-like shroud. No attempt to find any object beneath the shroud has been successful, but the possibility has not been ruled out.

SCP-17's reaction to shadows cast upon it is immediate and swift. SCP-17 leaps at the object casting the shadow and completely encloses it in its shroud, whereupon it returns to its normal size, leaving no trace of the object behind. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get it. notified every time a new episode is released. Are you one of those media strategy people clicking through slides, scrolling spreadsheets?

Yes? Good. This is for you. Because on Spotify, there's an audience that's different. Locked in. Loyal, invested. They're called fans. Fans don't just listen to music. They feel seen by it like it belongs to them. So when your brand shows up on Spotify, that's who you're talking to. And you're right next to artists like me, Lizzo.

So, are you ready to? Ready to talk to fans? Spotify Advertising, you're among fans.