The SCP Experience - The Trap House | SCP-789

Episode Date: December 24, 2021

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-789: The Trap House. 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-789, 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

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Publié. Savourer. Admirate. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love that we love. I knocked on the door of the two-story suburban house. It was a polite knock, not a this is the police knock. I wanted to get this thing started off on the right foot.

Plus, I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect. The reports we had about the place were very strange. Agent Darius stood next to me on the concrete stoop, waiting patiently. If he was scared, he sure as hell wasn't showing it. Of course, not much scares a man of his size. I'm not a small man, and Darius is a good foot taller than me. I wasn't sure if the door would be opened or not.

I could hear no movement from inside the house. I turned and looked around at the innocuous suburban neighborhood. It was a spring day in North Dakota. The light breeze stirred my blue windbreaker with large yellow letters on the back that read. FBI. I noted the unmarked van about 100 yards away. Inside the van was Agent Fredericksen, keeping a lookout and maintaining radio contact through the earpieces Darius and I wore. The sound of the knob turning had me refocusing my attention on the door of the house, which opened neither fast nor slow. A Caucasian woman and man, both of whom looked to be in their

middle 40s, stood smiling in the doorway. The man wore a navy blue cardigan over a long sleeve blue and white striped shirt. The collar was opened at the top, showing a glimpse of his white undershirt. He wore tan slacks and brown leather shoes. His hair was dark brown and immaculately parted on the left side of his scalp. The woman wore a checked apron over a well-kept house dress. Her hair was blonde and done up in curls that created a border for her heart-shaped and beautiful face. She wore red high heels and panty-hose. They looked like they belonged in some kind of wholesome sitcom from a bygone era. Can we help you, gentlemen? The man said, still smiling expectantly at us. If the small letters on the right breast area of our jackets gave him

pause. He hid it well. Hello, sir, ma'am, I said. We'd like to come in and talk to you for a minute. Is that all right? What's this about? The woman asked, still smiling like a mannequin. That's what we'd like to discuss if it's all right, I said, inside. They stared at us for a moment, as if what I was saying didn't compute. We can show you our badges if you like, I offered, reaching into my inside jacket pocket. That would be nice, the man said. I'm Agent Shearn, I said, showing them my badge. And this is Agent Darius.

May we come in now? Goodness, I suppose so, the man said. They stepped aside and let us in. The four of us stood in the entryway once the door was closed. It was clear. These two didn't want to let us further into the house. Is your son here? I asked, stepping past the couple to get a glimpse of the living room area. It was completely empty.

No furniture, no television, nothing. He's upstairs, the woman said. What's this about? Is he on the computer? Darius asked, taking over the conversation as I wandered further into the house. Yes, the man said. You know how kids are, always on their computers. Excuse me. The woman called over his shoulder. Where are you going? The inflection in her voice hadn't changed the whole time we'd been talking. Just looking around, ma'am, I said, nothing to worry about. Darius asked them how long they'd lived in the house while I stepped into their empty kitchen. From the woman's apron, I expected there to be something in the works, but there wasn't any food in the place, much less an oven or a refrigerator. For the first time since getting the case,

I was starting to feel in over my head. I walked back to them, sharing a look with Darius as I returned. It was a look that told him to keep his defenses up. He nodded back at me. We've heard that you have some visitors sometimes, I said. Is that right? Do you have people over to see your son? I don't think so, the woman said.

I'd know if anyone came here to see our son. What's your son's name? Darius asked. Both the man and woman looked at us blankly for a full two seconds before the man answered. Teddy, he said. And your names? I asked. Why? How rude of us, the woman said. My name is Gina and this is Tom.

Can you take us up to see your son? I asked. Well, Tom said, the thing is, we have a friend. coming over soon. He'll be here any minute. So if you boys could come back later, we'd be happy to introduce you to our son. Maybe tomorrow? No, I said. The word hung in the air like a bad smell, but neither Gina or Tom so much as wrinkled their noses. They smiled at us, like I hadn't said anything at all. We'd like to see him now, Darius said. He's upstairs, yes? The couple just stared at us, saying nothing. This friend that's coming over, I said,

is he coming to see your son? My question was followed by silence. Okay, I said to Darius. Let's go upstairs and find the kid. I had seen the staircase in a den area earlier, and I led the way. I was expecting the couple to protest or capitulate. They did neither.

We rounded the corner into the, den, losing sight of them. As I stepped on the first stair, I stopped and looked back to see if they were going to follow. After a moment, I turned to Darius. Go get them, I said. They need to be there when we question the kid. I'm not taking any chances. Darius nodded and walked back over to the entryway. He stopped. What is it? I asked. They're gone, he said. What? No. They probably just walked into the kitchen. The look Darius gave me was the same thing as saying, bullshit. But he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen anyway. He came around through the dining room on my right, having circled the hole downstairs. Poof, he said. Fucking gone. This is some weird shit, man.

Yeah, I said. Let's go see if the kid's even here. We walked up the stairs and found that the first The first two bedrooms we visited were as empty as the rooms downstairs. The door to the third room was closed, and I opened it as slowly and as quietly as possible. There was a boy in the corner of the room, around 12 or 13 years old, sitting at a computer desk. He had brown hair, wore jean shorts, and had a blue t-shirt on. Hello? I said.

Teddy? You shouldn't be here, he said without turning from the computer. Not right now. His fingers clacked and clacked on the keyboard, faster than anyone I'd ever seen. His hand movements were a blur as he worked. Teddy, can you please stop whatever you're doing there and talk to us for a minute? I asked.

We just need to ask you a few questions. Not yet, Teddy said. He's almost here. Who is? Teddy didn't answer. The radio in my ear squawked. It was Fredericksen, who was still outside in the van. You've got a middle-age tree.

white male approaching the house on foot. They'll be there soon. Shit, I said, and stepped up to the window, which looked out onto the front yard. I peered out to look at the man now coming down the sidewalk towards the house. He looked to be in his late 20s. He wore a turquoise polo shirt and blue jeans. Thanks for the heads up, Frederickson, I said, my voice hissing with sarcasm. My bad, Frederick said in my earpiece.

He was on the other side of the street. I thought he was just a guy out for a walk until he crossed over. A knock came from downstairs. He was at the door. What do you want to do? Darius asked me. I don't. Where's the kid?

I turned back from the window to see the teddy, the computer, and the desk were all gone. We were standing in an empty room. That's impossible, Darius said. I just saw him. He was literally just there. I heard the murmur of voices from downstairs. Someone had opened the door for the man. I walked quietly back to the stairs without a word, Darius following behind me.

At the top of the stairs, I pulled my agency-issued firearm out of my holster. Darius did the same. As we crept down the stairs, we heard a conversation between Teddy and the visitor. I'm glad you came, Teddy said. So, uh, where are your parents? The man said. He sounded nervous. They're gone for a while.

Why don't you come into the living room? Teddy said. I reached the bottom of the stairs. I could tell by their voices that the kid and the visitor were in the entryway. I tiptoed to the wall and put my back against it, curious to listen to what was going to happen next. Yeah, uh, okay, the guy said. I poked my head around the doorway from the den and caught a glimpse of the guy as he walked away from me into the living room. Teddy was pulling him by the hand.

Why don't you have any furniture? The guy's voice was shaking. Furniture isn't important. Not for what we're going to do, Teddy said. Hey, listen, I think I've made a mistake. The guy said, I should probably go. As I watched, Teddy disappeared from where he'd been standing right in front of the guy. It was like the popping of a balloon.

There one second, gone in a blink. The guy made a strained sound high in his throat as he went to turn around. He moved his legs, but he made no progress. At first, I couldn't tell why. But when I looked closer, I could see that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He was flailing in the air in the middle of the living room. His eyes wide, and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down under his chin as panic tightened its grip on him. What the hell?

I said, stepping out from my hiding place. trying to figure out what was holding him up. His eyes shot to mine. Help me, he said. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got.

Sign up for free at rbc trainingground.ca. Just after the second word left his mouth, his right eyeball popped, spilling blood and slime down his cheek. Blood began to pour out from his pant legs, accompanied by a sound similar to a coffee grinder that I thought was coming from inside his body. He screamed a terrible, inhuman scream as blood shot out of his shirt collar into sleeves.

His right arm disappeared in a wet puff of blood, which fell heavily to the carpet, joining the already considerable puddle forming there. His left arm followed suit. His left eyeball rolled around in his socket and came to rest again on my eyes. His mouth seemed frozen in a perpetual sneer, and he tried to suck in a breath to scream again. But as he pulled air into his lungs, his tongue exploded in his mouth, and he inhaled blood. As he coughed the thick liquid out of his throat, his left eye popped.

His legs were suddenly gone, exchanged for a red sludge, that dripped out of his jeans onto the floor. Then his torso seemed to implode under his clothing, turning to yet more red sludge on the living room carpet. Fredrickson said in my earpiece, I realized that he'd been trying to talk to me since the horrible process had started. He must have heard the scream and realized something was wrong. I didn't mind.

He'd never believe us if he didn't see it for himself. Behind me, Darius vomited on the carpet in the den. He'd been watching the whole time. just as I had. The man's soaked clothes fell onto the bloody carpet. I stood there in the den, staring at the puddle of what had once been a human, unable to process what had just happened.

Fredericksen barged through the front door to my left, his gun up and ready. When he saw me, he seemed to relax a little. He lowered his weapon. What's with the screaming? He asked, trying to find the words to explain. When I noticed he was being lifted off the ground, I cried out and ran toward him, but I stopped as his eyes popped, spraying bits of blood all over me.

I turned away and clamped my hands over my ears, unable to watch the man I'd known for years being turned to sludge by some unseen force. When it was done, I watched as both bloody puddles were absorbed into the floor, disappearing like nothing had happened. Darius and I shared a sickened look. I half expected to see Darius lifted off the ground next, or even my scepting. After a long moment in which I battled to collect myself, I walked back to the stairs. I stomped upstairs to the last room in the hallway. Teddy was there on his computer. Why? I asked. Why Frederiksen? What the hell did he do? Without turning, Teddy spoke. Your friend was a bad man. Just like Colin Johnston, they were bad men. Sorry to use you like that.

It was the only way I could get him here. Colin Johnston must have been the other man, the first one to die. A pedophile, lured here by Teddy, who was anything but a little boy, anything but human. But that meant that Frederikson was one stone, I whispered. You can go now, Teddy said. How many times? I asked. How many have you lured here? Teddy stopped typing and turned in his chair to look at me for the first time.

You don't want to know, Agent Sheerne. He was right. I didn't. I didn't want to know. I grabbed Darius and we left in a hurry. And if it hadn't been for the death of Frederikson, I may have just left that place to continue its work. An investigation into Frederikson's home computers found that Teddy was right.

He was a bad man. and the Bureau didn't want to have anything to do with that house. We handed it over to the people who specialize in those kinds of things. We handed it over to the SCP Foundation. SCP 789 is an entity that resides within a well-kept, three-bedroom two-story house located in North Dakota. Foundation databases contain no records or unrelated abnormal events in the area's history. No anomalous materials have been located in the area's history.

have been located in the house's construction. When the house is connected to an internet connection, SCP-789 will manifest first as a working desktop computer with a webcam controlled by a pubescent child. The entity will spend several hours a day utilizing internet chat programs, contacting and interacting with adult civilians within the continental United States. SCP-78 appears to target pedophiles, fabricating complex, yet believable stories,

yet believable stories, and utilizing video chat programs to lure and gain its contacts trust. When the contacts appear at the house, they're invited in and crushed into a fine slurry. SCP-789 will soak the slurry into itself, then vanish. Upkeep of the property is apparently performed by SCP-789 as well. The entity will manifest as one of two middle-aged adult humans. These two four forms appear to serve as decoy parental property owners and will entertain guests if required to. Interaction with these manifestations has revealed no information as to the nature of SCP-789. All conversation regarding behavior described above is met with polite silence.

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