The SCP Experience - The Window | SCP-965

Episode Date: April 28, 2023

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-965: The Window This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp. Go to betterhelp.com/scp today to get 10% off your first month! This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-965 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Travis Brown Check out his Reddit page here: https://www.reddit.com/user/Grand_Theft_Motto/ 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 #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Bookine. Oh, that also. And profite. Via Rai, the voice that we love that we love. The summer she turned 11, my sister saw a ghost. I was 17 at the time. We had just moved to a new town, and were getting ready for the academic year at a new school,

practically a new life. So I didn't believe Molly when she told me about the face, looking in her window at night. Worse than not believing her, I was dismissive. I told myself I had too much going on in my world to play along with such a silly, childish fear. But Molly was right. And if I believed her, maybe things wouldn't have gone as bad as they did.

David, it's back. I put down my phone and rolled my eyes. It was our first week in the new house. Mom was out. And I wasn't in the mood to deal with Molly's nightmares for a second night in a row. Go to bed! I yelled, dumping on the wall between our shared rooms. Molly was silent for a moment, and I went back on my phone.

I was watching TikToks from all of my old friends back in California, celebrating summer vacation. It looked like they were having fun, and there I was, stuck in Maryland, 3,000 miles from anybody I knew. The raw hysteria in Molly's voice ricked me out of bed. I ran to her room next door, feet barely touching the carpet. I never heard my sister, or anyone, sound that scared. For a terrible moment, her door wouldn't know. I was worried it was locked, but it moved when I put a shoulder into it. The room was dark, only moonlight leaking in through one window.

The bed was empty. Molly? I shouted, fumbling for the light switch. Don't turn on the lights. Molly whispered. I still couldn't see her, but it sounded like she was under the bed. I ignored her and flipped on the switch. The ceiling light came to life, casting low shadows around the room.

I still didn't see Molly, but when I walked over to her bed, I could hear her sobbing underneath. Molly? I said softly, kneeling down. Kiddo, you scared me. My little sister peeked out at me from the darkness under the bed. I told you not to turn the light on, she said. What if it sees us? I sighed and reached out of hand. Come on, little walnut. Like I told you last night, the house. The house isn't haunted. Not the house. Just my room. Maybe just my window.

Go look. Molly, there's... Look! I rolled my eyes, but obeyed and glanced at the window. The curtains were open. The night outside, the glass was completely black. For just a second, I thought I saw a glare at the edge. When I looked again, there was nothing.

I chalked it up to Molly's fear getting contagious. I don't see anything, Maul. Come on, come look. My sister reluctantly crawled out from her hiding spot, taking my hand, then hiding behind me. She stared at the window for a long time. I promise it was there, David. There was a face, this awful face.

He was looking right at me when I woke up. David, he was watching me sleep. What did it look like? Molly swallowed before answering. A man. It's a man for sure. Pale, like he'd never ever been in the sun. His features sort of, I can't fix them in my mind. Whenever I think I'm picturing it, right? Things scramble. Black eyes, though. That part is always the same. And tonight, he started to smile a little. I looked at the window again. I knew deep down that Molly was just dealing with new move jitters. We up to rooted our lives to go across the country. Mom was a fucking mess. Dad? Well, dad was the reason we had to move away. Of course, she'd be having nightmares. And our bedrooms are on the second story.

Even if there was a creep roaming the neighborhood, he wouldn't be able to peek into our bedroom windows, unless he brought a ladder. Would it make you feel better if we checked outside? I asked. For what? Nobody could be looking into your window without a ladder. Or, like a grappling hook or a helicopter or whatever. Either way, there'd be evidence outside, right? Molly chewed at a strand of dark hair. What if they're still out there? I'll bring a flashlight.

Molly narrowed her eyes, projecting waves of pre-teen annoyance. Okay, I added. I'll get a flashlight and a baseball bat. The grass under Molly's window was flat and perfect. There were no signs of any shadowy people. keeping Tom's, no impressions in the ground from a ladder, nothing sinister at all. See? I said, swiping the flashlight back and forth over the yard. No way for anybody to peek into your room. Molly didn't reply, holding out her hand for the flashlight.

Another five minutes of intense scrutiny, she gave me back the light and sighed. All right, Molly said. I guess it must have just been a nightmare. Last night, too. Once again, that's one point for David and negative like a million-ish for you. Molly stuck out her tongue. You're mature. I know you are, but what am I? With one final glance at the boring, pristine grass below her window, my sister went back inside.

I took a step to follow her but stopped short. I looked up and saw something white on the glass. A reflection from the moon, I told myself, trying hard not to think too much about the cloud cover that night. Or how that pale shimmer seemed so much like a face. Mom wasn't around much that week. I guess her new job kept her busy. And I think there was a new guy, too, though we never ended up meeting him.

Dad called once. At least, I'm pretty sure it was dad. I didn't recognize the number, and they didn't leave a message, but I just had a feeling. That summer, things got progressively worse with Molly ever since our first night in the house. She'd wake me by screaming, usually while she was still asleep.

I've never heard anything like the raw panic in my sister's voice before or since that summer. Always, always, always, the first thing she'd do after I shook her awake was look at the window. He's there, he's still there, she told me one night. How do you not see him? He's horrible, David, and he's smiling at us. Molly was drenched in sweat, shaking like a trapped bird. her eyes glued to the window. But when I looked, there was nothing, just thin glass holding back a starless night.

Why do you keep opening the curtains? I asked gently, moving to close them. I don't, Molly whispered. Can I sleep in your room tonight? Of course you can. While Molly was making her way to my bedroom, I approached the window. Even though the curtains were now drawn,

and it was summertime, the air in front of the opening was, cool. I reached out carefully, brushing the white curtains to the side. When I pressed my fingers against the glass, there was a subtle hum, so faint, I wasn't sure if it was real or in my mind. It was the kind of vibration you might feel in the air before a thunderstorm or in the air above a hornet's nest when they're just waking up. I walked away and didn't look back before closing the door. After that night, I ended up swapping rooms with Molly the next morning. I don't think Mom even noticed. Molly helped me move in with a pretty clear mixture of guilt and relief.

She looked so small standing in the doorway that day. Blonde hair still racked with bedhead, eyes constantly drifting to the window. There was a small red stain on her white pajama top. I made a mental note to tell her to lay off sneaking strawberries at night. You shouldn't stay in here either, David. Because of the window monster. Don't joke about it. Not even during the daytime, okay?

I looked over my shoulder from where I was hanging my reservoir dogs poster. Sorry, Ma'll tell me if you see anyone, anything weird. I held up my pinky. I solemnly swear. Molly linked her little finger around mine and smiled for probably the first time since we moved in. This room is nicer anyway, Molly said. She headed out probably to bask in her new, larger bedroom. I turned my attention back to the poster.

Then I saw the curtains. They were open again, and sunlight came barreling into the room like a car with cut brakes. I knew for a fact that I'd closed the windows before I started putting up posters so that Molly wouldn't have to see the window.

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 training ground.ca. I wondered if she moved the blinds to play a trick on me,

but as soon as I had the thought, I dismissed it. Molly was genuinely terrified of whatever she thought she saw in the glass. She wouldn't be playing pranks, not about that, not about the face. There was nothing in the window, nothing other than sunshine. But for a moment, when I looked hard, it did feel like something was looking back. I walked over, pulled the curtains, then went back to hanging posters. My eyes popped open, but I couldn't see anything.

Still, I was certain there was someone in the room with me. I fumbled for the lamp, managing to knock it off the nightstand instead of turning it on. Cursing, I slid off the bed, glancing around the pitch-black room, searching for a human-shaped shadow that might stand out. Eventually, I found the lamp, placed it back on the stand, and flicked it on. bright yellow light revealed an empty room. A few cardboard boxes I hadn't unpacked yet stood stacked in the corner. I felt an urge to check under the bed and rifle through the closet, but I realized I was letting my imagination get the best of me. I laid back down and closed my eyes.

A second later, I opened them again to confirm the last image I'd seen. The curtains were open again. I got up to close them, but didn't fall asleep again that night. That first week after we swapped rooms, Molly started to improve. She was finally getting some sleep. Her smile and laugh was back. Molly even convinced Mom to stay in one night so we could all watch a movie and play a board game. But that only lasted for five or six days. Then the bad dreams started again. Night after night after night, Molly would wake up shrieking, sobbing, and inconsolable. Her cries were so loud, they managed to pierce through mom's wine haze. and the three of us would all lay down together downstairs.

It was always the same story from Molly, a pale face, black eyes, and a grin that seemed to grow the more she screamed. Four days after the nightmares began again, I offered to take Molly to the park. It was a gorgeous day, all soft blue skies and summer clouds casting lazy shadows on the grass. I figured maybe we could go looking for arrowheads

or even play some tennis, and that might take her mind off of the face. At first, Molly wasn't interested. She seemed drained, just sitting on the couch, chewing on her hair, staring at the cold TV. But I cajoled and persisted and hinted that there might be some rabbits or turtles at the park that she could introduce herself to if we hurried. That did it, and I got my sister back for a little while. Molly ran off to the bathroom to wash up and get ready.

I raided the pantry for snacks we could take with us. Before I could figure out where mom had stashed the trail mix, Molly walked back from the bathroom. David, I don't feel too good, she said, holding her stomach. A moment later, she threw up on the kitchen floor. Molly hadn't been eating much for the last couple of days. Everything that came out of her was red. Oh, Jesus, I whispered.

Molly looked up at me, terrified. I realized my reaction was making it worse, so I pulled the fear from my face and knelt by my sister. It's okay, you're okay, I said, hugging her. We're going to just take a quick drive to the doctor, okay? Should we wake mom up? No, I said, doubtful that we'd be able to get her conscious before noon. I grabbed the keys and then lifted Molly up. Don't get my puke on your shirt, she whispered, head against my neck.

Never mind about that, Maul. Just relax. We'll call Mom from the ER. Ulcers. My 11-year-old sister had several ulcers in her stomach. In addition, Molly had an elevated heart rate, high blood pressure, and constant headaches. Her doctor pulled me aside while they got Molly settled into her room.

If I didn't know any better, he told me. I'd say your little sister was at least in her 60s and suffering from decades of stress. Is there anything going on at home that could be causing that? Mom and dad are going through a divorce, and we just moved across the country. The doctor's gray eyebrows went up, but he shook his head. Yeah, that sure would be stressful. But to have such a physical impact on an 11-year-old girl, I've never seen it.

I understand the family's situation is complicated for you all, but we need a parent or guardian here to actually admit your sister. You said your mom is on her way? I watched Molly showing off her hospital bracelet to a nurse. She was smiling, but so pale. A face appeared in my mind, paler than my sister. White as a corpse dredged up from some deep place. Black eyes, a smile like an open wound, and a slash of a nose.

It was almost like the face was there in the hospital hallway with me for a second. The worst part was, while I was looking at it, I felt it like it. looking back at me. As suddenly as it came on, the vision passed, and I was perfectly fine, standing in the hall next to the doctor. He looked at me, waiting for an answer. Yeah, I told the doctor. Let me try calling her again.

I'm sure she's rushing over. Mom got there 30 minutes later. When she saw the state Molling was in, I saw some kind of jolt go through her end. For the first time in a long time, she seemed like the mom I remembered from her. before things got bad. We both went into Molly's room to sit next to her, to chat, just to be around. After half an hour, Mom gave me some cash, and I ran out to get some comic books and snacks for Molly. I even found her a dorky, but cute, stuffed fox I thought she'd like. Ball was sleeping when I got back. Mom excused herself for a minute, probably for his cigarette.

But I figured she more than earned it. As soon as mom was gone, Molly's eyes popped open. It's here, she whispered. Small blue eyes locked on mine. I didn't need to ask her what she meant. Where? Her voice was so small, so scared. I looked around but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it. Wally continued. And when they're open, it's there, just at the corner, almost clear but not quite. It's looking at us now, both of us. I swallowed. It's not real, my eyes. Molly, it can't hurt us.

My sister sank down farther in bed. I think it already has. Molly kept getting worse. She wasn't able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time before a night terror dragged her screaming back to consciousness. Mom and I took turns staying awake, so someone was always there with her. But after three days, it was clear there wasn't much the doctors could do. When Molly couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat.

a couple bites of food cost her to get sick, and her health was deteriorating daily. And I could sense the face, too, even though I couldn't see it. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself, it was a hallucination brought on by stress. Every hour I grew more certain that there was a presence around my sister. It felt alien, malicious, and hungry. It was like there was some invisible leech hovering over Molly, swallowing her suffering and loving every second of it. I tried talking to Mom about it, but she was in a bad way herself. I figured out later that she was almost certainly experiencing withdrawal from drinking

and from whatever else she was using at that time. But she never wavered. She never left Molly's room for more than a few minutes. I admire Mom for that. Love her for it, even if it didn't help much. On the fourth night, when Molly started throwing up blood-tinged bile just from sipping water, I made a decision. I was going to confront the face.

I told them that I was just running home for some clothes. Mom believed me, but Molly just watched me with those big, shattered eyes. See you soon, little fox, I said, patting her new stuffed animal on the head. Molly hadn't stopped holding it since I brought it for her. You too, Maul. Be careful. I don't think you should... Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a violent series of dry heaves.

I slipped out the door as several nurses came inside. I promised myself that it would all be done that night. A sense of vague unease began to settle over me as I drove to the house. By the time I pulled into our driveway, my heart was beating fast and a thin layer of sweat had stained the neck of my shirt. I couldn't explain the feeling, but I recognized it as dread bordering on panic. It was almost like the house was trying to ward me off.

All of the lights were off and the door was locked. I was impressed that mom was together enough at that time to properly close up. It was chilly in the hall after I went inside. I flipped the switch next to the door, but the house remained dark. As I moved from room to room, I got the impression that I was being watched. It was like a presence was following me, just out of sight. But it was ahead of me too. some silent, invisible hate that wanted me to leave.

When I passed the downstairs closet, I saw that there was a light on. A dim glow spread out from under the door, orangeish white and strange. I'd never seen any light like it, not in any house, not anywhere. I reached for the doorknob, but stopped before my fingers could brush the brass. Suddenly, and with no glimmer of doubt, I knew that if I opened that door, I would die. I didn't know how or exactly when, but I was certain it would happen soon and it would be violent. I backed away, eyes never leaving the closet until my foot bumped the first stair. I ran up to the second floor despite the darkness. It was a short walk to my sister's old room, the one where

the nightmare started. The curtains to the window were open, just like I knew they would be. The face of Some devil stared at me from the other side of the window. That was the first time I saw the face clearly, though it felt familiar. Unnaturally white. It reminded me of a theater mask, grinning in a way that never reached the holes where the eyes should be. Those empty sockets, black as the night outside, followed me as I walked across the carpeted floor. Now that I was near the thing, my resolve was shaky at best. It didn't seem real.

Not only did the face exist, it was present and horribly aware of me. That smile, that cold smile. What the hell is so funny? I asked the face as I got closer. Every step was miserable, like walking through wet cement. I expected my legs to go out at any moment. Something about the grinning reflection in the glass promised more suffering than I could imagine in a lifetime of nightmares. But Molly was sick, and I knew the face was to blame.

So I made it to her nightstand, picked up the lamp, and took a breath. What's so fucking funny? I shouted, earling the lamp into the window. The lamp was heavy. An antique thing Molly picked out from a secondhand store years ago on one of the rare trips we had with Dad. It shattered the glass and the face with it, sending shards raining outside. I wanted to be happy, triumphant, but I couldn't feel anything but gnawing anxiety.

Because the face smiled wider as the window burst. broke. Molly was dead before I made it back to the hospital. When I made it to the hallway before her room, I knew something was wrong. There were nurses everywhere, shapes and blue scrubs running back and forth. Mom was outside wailing, leaning on a senior nurse who held her tight. The doctor stopped me before I could get a good look into Molly's room, but the long, dead ring of a flat line echoed into the hall. I did catch a glimpse through the door, though. I saw the room's single window, and in it, the reflection of a pale face staring inside. After the funeral, after some numb time I barely remember, I did what I should have done from the start.

I did my research. It only took a few Google searches and a rainy afternoon to track down the information I wish I had from the first night. Molly woke up shrieking. SCP-965 is a visual manifestation that occurs within framed, windows. This manifestation takes the shape of the shadowed face of an apparently pale-skinned male that is looking through the window. The exact details shown vary, as does the direction of orientation, as well as the age of the person. However, sufficient detail shows it to consistently be the same being at differing points of its life, between the approximate ages

of 10 and 55. Research into an individual matching has thus far proven inconclusive. I found all of that on a page claiming to belong to the official secure, contain, protect foundation website. I heard of SCPs from friends at school, but never took any of it seriously. But my experience lined up exactly with the entry. What I read about containing 965 is what will keep me from having a good night's sleep ever again.

Once it shows up in a window, it can't leave on its own. Not until that window is broken, then it's free to relocate. It's my fault. Molly, I'm so, so sorry. You trusted me to protect you. I swear I thought I was, but all I did was let it loose to finish you off. I found out through our local paper that the hospital, where Molly stayed, is due for major renovation soon. If something happens to the window where 965 is now, It'll be loose again and it will be hungry. Lazzangue surgelley,

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