The SCP Experience - The Wrath of Inti | SCP-1253

Episode Date: July 26, 2024

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-1253 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1253 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Andrew E. * * * 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

When the first dream came, the drought had already been raging for several months. Father's face had slowly turned as the days passed and still no rain fell. Every movement mother made was pinched with worry. Our crops, our livelihood, shriveled and died. Even the hardier grasses had turned yellow from thirst. We supplemented our animals' water by shipping in extra tanks, but that was a temporary solution. Our savings from the last harvest would dry up just as the rivers and lakes had. The animals would then have to be slaughtered or sold.

I'd even heard mother crying one night. I prayed and prayed for an end to the drought, but my prayers were unanswered. That night, at dinner, I ate spaghetti, dressed with a thin red sauce, a single meat ball, and a wilted salad without complaint. We'd had it three times that week, but I knew. the reason. Mother and father's grim silence told me more than they realized. I was still a little hungry when I turned in that night, but I ignored it and closed my eyes. I tossed and turned, but eventually fell asleep. That was when the dream started. I opened my eyes to find myself in my bedroom. Though the days were blazing hot, the nights were cool, and I could hear a soft breeze

coming from outside my window. I was sweating, the blanket once comforting, now felt suffocating. I threw it off and walked to my window, opening it. A cool gust immediately rushed through the gap, enveloping me in its embrace. It felt so good that I leaned against the sill for a moment, taking in the night air. A familiar scent was in the wind, a sort of earthiness that you can smell after a heavy Glancing around, I could tell that the landscape was still bone dry. Then where? A strong wind pushed through the room and seemed to swirl all around me. It whispered to me, beckoning me somewhere.

The next thing I knew, I was walking, through our barren fields and across our neighbors' equally desolate farms. As I grew closer, I heard a voice. Closer, it said. Keep going, it commanded. And I did, not feeling the earth beneath my feet, only seeing the moon and the stars. They were bigger and brighter than I'd ever realized. Eventually, I approached a large hill I didn't recognize. I had no idea how far from my house I was, but in the moment, I didn't care.

I simply started climbing. Once I reached the top, I saw that there was a small, small grove of oddly positioned trees. There were four of them, arranged in a square with one at each corner. Though I didn't know their names, I could see that each was a different species. In the center, there was a stone slab clearly carved by a human. Was it an altar? Thank you for coming, something said. I looked around for the source of the voice, but couldn't find one. That should have scared me. did not.

Where are you? I asked. Why won't you show yourself? The wind gusted, forcing me to squint. A kitchen priest will not show themselves for just anyone. Only those with pure hearts are deemed worthy. Listen, learn, and perhaps I will reveal myself to you. The voice sounded like a whisper in my ear and male,

though I got the sense that I wasn't speaking with a bird. What did you bring me here for? No, I did not bring you here. You called me, did you not? You wished to end the drought. I sat down on the slab. It was true. I'd wanted to end the drought.

But I hadn't been praying to this being, or whatever it was. Still, I thought of mother's tears and realized I would do anything to make her stop crying. What do I do? I asked. First, listen, we'll understand. I sat there, rigidly, without the slightest movement for what seemed at once like many days, but was only a few minutes. The priest told me of Inti, the god of the sun, and Apu Ilapu, the god of the rain.

They were two brothers, born by a great Creator God. The two loved each other dearly, but they were prone to arguments, as all brothers are. Even though Inti ruled the heavens and oversaw the sun, the people on earth who worshipped him often showed more gratitude for the rain than the sun, causing Inti to become jealous of his brother. When this happened,

Inti would forbid Apu Elapu from blessing his people with rain to grow their crops. In his anger, Inti was difficult to appease. Only the pleading from humans of pure heart could move him. Once the priest stopped speaking, I sat in silence for a while, considering the story I'd heard. In my heart, I knew it to be the truth. Inti was preventing Apu alapu from letting the reins fall free, creating this drought. Do you understand what you must do?

The priest asked. I shook my head. The story I understood, but not my part in it. Do you understand? The world got fuzzy. I couldn't concentrate. I felt a pull behind me, like a thread, connecting me to somewhere was being tugged on.

I closed my eyes. Do you understand? I heard my father ask. I opened my eyes. I was sitting in our living room, on the leather chair father had inherited from his own father. The leather was peeling, and the recline had long since broken.

but it was still my favorite place to sit in the house. I blinked a couple of times. Where was the grove? Had I been daydreaming that whole time? Mother and father were sitting on the couch. Both of their faces etched with worry. Well, father looked more irritated than worried. Can you say that again?

I asked. Father sighed, but Mother put her hand on his knee and leaned forward, keeping eye contact with me. The farm, with the drought, well, we all have to make sacrifices, she said. We've decided that we can't keep clover anymore. We're going to have to sell her. I'm sorry, I know how much you love her.

Clover? Right, Clover. My horse? Well, technically not mine. But we'd had her since I was four, and she loved me best of anyone, and I'd been taking care of her by myself for three years. Oh, I said. I had noticed that her feedback had been less full the last few weeks. You found a family that wants her? Mother turned to father and held a hand to her lips, making a choked sound.

Father sighed and said, No, not a family. She was being sold for slaughter then. It should have hurt. The pain should have pierced me and ripped me up worse than a bullet to the gut. But it just... Didn't. I only felt a wave of tiredness pass over me.

Can I go to my room? I ask, already standing up. Father stood up too and raised his voice saying, Boy, what's been the matter with you this past week? You've been acting like you're on another planet. I stared into Father's eyes and saw his fear, his weakness. He loved Apu alapu more than Inti. He had caused the drought.

Maybe he was even happy about it. He'd do anything to venerate the rain god over the sun god. If he knew what I'd been learning from the Ketchin priest, he would do everything in his power to stop me. Mother stood up and grabbed his arm. Let him go, she said. Father glared at me for a little while but said nothing first. Eventually, I glided up the stairs and laid down to sleep.

This time the dream started atop the hill. I sensed the priest and the wind and spoke to it. May I see you? I asked. It did not respond instantly. I felt the tension gnawing at my stomach as it made its decision. Lasagne sur-gillet, Pucance-molyne for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo.

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Via Rae, the voice that we love. Perhaps you are ready. The priest said, It stepped out from behind one of the trees. Its shape was vaguely human, but the construction of its body was not. It was made from an amalgamation of animal innards and skin. I saw cow-haw-hawed.

I saw cow-haw-house. intestines, half-formed chicken fetuses, three sets of lopsided and uneven goat horns protruding from the shoulders, and far, far to many eyes, all of which stared at me. The priest dripped red with blood and other fluids I could not name. It took a few steps towards me, each one punctuated with a wet squelch, and sat down next to me on the altar. Do you fear me? it asked. No, I said. my voice even and calm.

It was not a lie, but there was a buzzing in my brain. It was a deep feeling that demanded my attention. It was screaming something at me from within the haze of my dream. I almost wanted to stand up to move away from the wise priest. But that was absurd. It was only there to teach me how to stop the drought. When I stared into its eyes, that feeling went away. Good, it said.

That means you are ready for the next part of your learning. I will tell you of the wise Inca and the rituals they performed to soothe the jealousy of Inti. You said that Inti is only moved by the pure of heart. Yes, the Ketchin priest said, its voice still barely above a whisper. The Kov long ago tried many methods to appease Inti. None were successful. They sent mothers, then warriors, then holy men, but all failed. Inti would not hear their pleas.

The Great Inca were getting desperate. The drought had continued for several years, and there was widespread famine and starvation. What did they do? A young boy, about your age, offered to go and speak. They performed a sacred ceremony, sending a single. the boy to his side. It was said that the rains began to fall not an hour after the ceremony was finished. I considered the story for a moment, then asked, how did they send the boy to Inti? The priest told me the method. That buzzing in my head started up again, before turning into a throbbing.

My stomach churned, threatening to spill over. The story felt both wrong and right. I knew that if If I did what the boy did, then Inti would be appeased, and the rain would come back. It was a good thing, the best thing for everyone. But then, why did it feel so wrong? Why did the thought of it make my bones quake and my mouth feel as parched as the sun-baked ground? Do you understand what you must do? The priest asked me. I turned and stared into one of the sets of eyes of the priest.

It blinked back at me. Yes, but, I said. You are not ready. Be gone. No, wait! With the thundering sound, I was sent away. I heard a voice call, but my thoughts were blurry and I didn't recognize it. There was a knocking at my door.

Disoriented, I realized I was in my bedroom. Had that been the thundering sound for my dream? I sprinted to the door, hoping to miraculously find the priest there and beg for its forgiveness. Instead, I found a woman who jumped back, startled at the suddenness of the door opening. Oh, it was mother. I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her what had happened. But a numbness rose from within my chest and stopped me. Honey? What is it? You're shaking. And you're so pale.

She pulled me into her arms, but I just hung there limply, devastated not to find my teacher. Her arms felt like a restraint, forcing me to be where she wanted me. I tugged loose and stared her down. I know you've been sad ever since we gave Clover up, but this has to stop. It's been weeks, and you've hardly come out of your room, not even for supper, she said, eyes watering. Clover, Clover. The name rang through my heart. I could feel my eyes watering and there was a tightness in my chest.

I could not name. What was wrong with me? Clover didn't matter. All that mattered was ending the drought and allowing the cleansing reign of Apu Alapu to fall. But still, I... Do you understand what you must do? Its words came to me like a thunder clap, echoing in my head and blocking out all else. I stepped back from my mother, seeing her for what she really was. Another foul and sinful being who had caused Inti's jealousy, just as my first was. father had. She wanted to distract me from my goal, my destiny. Still, I knew she would pervert my course if she knew what I was planning, so I smiled at her and said, I'm okay, mother, thank you. I'm actually a little hungry. Could I have something to eat? She practically beamed at me and

led me downstairs to the kitchen. Father was sitting in the living room listening to the radio, but stopped when he saw mother and I walk into the kitchen. He followed us there and observed us there, as mother and I made small talk. I asked him how the farm was doing, and if he expected rain soon, he sighed and grumbled as he discussed the topic. But I could tell he was just pleased that I was speaking with him.

The three of us sat down at the dinner table and had a meal, or I did. Mother and father simply sat with me. I noted that the sun had long set. Both of them relaxed the more I spoke with them. just as planned. After a while, Mother said, Well, your father and I are going to bed soon. What about you? I don't feel very tired, I said. Is it all right if I stay up a little and listen to the radio?

Mother glanced at Father, who nodded. Not too loud now, she replied. I smiled wide at her. Of course. I bid them good night, and the two of them patted up to bed. I turned the radio on low and waited on the sofa until I was sure they had both fallen asleep. As soon as I was certain, I quietly crept into the kitchen. Digging through the drawers, I found a candle, lit it, and placed it on the table. After that, I moved to the stovetop and turned it just enough to let the gas flow. I left it in that position as I closed all the windows and shut the door behind me. I would not allow them to interfere with my purpose.

As I left the house, I could see the light of the candle flickering in the closed kitchen window, now filling with gas. As I approached the hill, I heard thunder. When I crested the summit, I saw the first flash of lightning. Was I dreaming? Was I awake? It didn't matter. What I was doing was real either way. The priest waited for me, standing next to the altar. Do you understand what you must do? It asked.

A long moment passed. between us as a cool wind that promised an oncoming rain whipped through the air. Yes, I said. The priest seemed to nod. Then it produced a fine white robe, similar to the vestments of a Christian priest. Wear this. I took the garment and dawned it. The Ketchin priest gestured to the slab. I laid down with a soft smile. It stood over me, holding the sacred rope I had heard about in the stories. It was time. Time for me to go and plead with Inti for forgiveness, to allow the rain to fall. The priest secured the rope around my neck. There was another flash of lightning and I felt something wet hit my face. A rain drop? No, it couldn't be. There would be no

rain until I spoke with Inti. Here, drink this, it said, bidding me to sip from a stone cup filled with an amber liquid. I did so without question. It tasted sweet like honey mixed with metallic, coppery notes I couldn't place. The priest began to speak in a language I didn't know, but somehow recognized it as a prayer to Inti, Apu alapu, and the other gods of the Inca.

Something cold hit my arm. I knew I was supposed to lie as still as possible during the ritual, but I couldn't help but try to lift my arm to check. My body was sluggish and slow to respond, but with great effort, I managed to do it. There was a wet patch. Another droplet hit my cheek. It was raining. But that couldn't be, because it was raining before the ritual was complete.

Then that would mean I'd been lied to. Fighting a sudden drowsiness, I turned to look at my teacher and saw it. I really saw it for the first time. What in the name of God? This thing, this corrupted being of animal skin and organs. I had truly trusted it. God, mother and father, what have I done? I squirmed, trying to get off the altar, but my body refused to obey my commands.

I tried to raise my voice to scream, but my throat was paralyzed. I could only watch in terror as the thing finished its chant and stood beside me. Do not struggle, young one. already taken in my blood. I will send you to your beloved Inte soon enough. The cup, the amber liquid. It had been this demon's blood? Its voice, that whisper in my ear,

now sent a ferocious shiver down my spine. I tried one final time to speak, to beg for my life, but the words wouldn't flow. More droplets fell as the priest tightened the rope around my neck and squeezed. I fought to scream, to lash out, but my body simply wouldn't listen. As my vision slowly went dark, the last thing I felt was a gentle rain. SCP-1253 is a phenomenon observed in various cities across Bolivia and Peru.

It manifests during times of war, famine, or the death of a significant political leader, leading to the appearance of SCP-153-1 entities. These entities are sapient autops. made from decayed organic material, including parts from alpacas and other sources. They exhibit unique behaviors like self-decoration and conversing in multiple languages, including English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Ketua. SCP-53-1 targets children aged 6 to 15, influencing them to travel to high altitude areas. There, they instruct the children in a polytheistic religion, similar to the Quechuan belief system, teaching them about various rituals,

ceremonies, and the practice of Capicocha, a child sacrifice ritual. Children influenced by SCP-153-1 often develop symptoms such as obsessive-compulsive disorder, paranoia, and sociopathy. Some claim membership in a group called the Children of the Sun, though its existence is unverified.