The SCP Experience - When the Lantern Went Out, the Screaming Started | SCP-5252

Episode Date: August 26, 2024

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-5252 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5252 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Jake B. * * * 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

Where there was supposed to be a village, there was no village. Instead, I stared at rows of burnt-out husks that used to be a village. Cracked pottery and scorched blankets and animal hides littered the ground outside and around each hut or house or whatever. Other stuff was strewn about, half covered in snow. What there definitely wasn't were villagers. That didn't make Martin too happy. What the ever-loving fuck, Noel!

Martin snapped at me. How are we going to get local color if there are no locals? We'll figure it out, I said, and turned in a slow circle as I took in the scene. Our crew was off to the side, sitting, standing, leaning on or next to the crates of equipment we'd brought for the shoot. A couple of them looked worried, but most looked bored. I didn't blame them. Martin had been in a mood since the plane landed in a ball.

We'll figure something out. Martin barked a harsh laugh. We're in the fucking Himalayan Mountains. Not much to figure out. He threw his hands in the air and stomped off towards the scorched timbers and wreckage of what had been a small hut or house or whatever. I looked at the crew.

They looked at me. A few shrugged. Most gave me bored stares. Then our director of photography, Gorman Handel, pushed away from the bunch and approached. No. He said.

We have tents in our gear, big ones. I know, I said. I did know because as producer of the documentary, I was in charge of all of the gear. Not only was it my job as a producer to arrange for everything, but I also had the last working credit card in my pocket. That's not what Martin is pissed about, I said. He wanted shots of village life.

He wanted interviews with locals. He wanted... Yeah, yeah, I get it. Gorman interrupted. He's the director. He has a vision. I leaned in close to Gorman and said quietly. It's a fucking documentary for a two-bit horror cable channel, Gorman.

There is no vision. There's get in, get the shots, get out. We have four days. Gorman nodded and chewed on his lip. Then he looked up at the dark clouds overhead. I followed his gaze and nodded. I know, I said. I read the weather report.

The storm will hit sometime tonight, around three or four. We should get the tents up and the equipment secured fast before this shit hits, Foreman said. Agreed. I said and clapped my hands loudly. The crew still looked bored, but their eyes were on me. Heads up, people, I announced. We have a storm due to hit us tonight, and we currently have no shelter.

Let's fix that shit and get the tents unpacked and set up. That's our first order of business. After that, we'll... One of the technicians raised a hand, but didn't wait for me to finish before he asked his question. What about Chow? We've been traveling for 18 hours straight. Union rules stipulate that. Fuck your union rules. Martin shouted as he shoved past me, stomped over to the tech and got right in the man's face. Do you see your union rep? Is this fucking L.A.? No is the answer to both questions. You fucking eat when you fucking eat. Right now we need to call those trucks back and get this shit loaded up. We're out of here.

Barely able to control my anger, I grabbed Mark. by the shoulder and yanked him around to face me. What the fuck are you doing, Martin? Calling it, Martin said. He held his arms out, indicating the destroyed village. There's nothing here! No locals, no guides, no nothing. The shoot is dead. I'm calling it.

Like, fuck you are! I said and took him by the arm. He resisted, but I'm a foot taller than him and I leaned into it, until he relented, and I could pull him a few yards away from everyone else. The wind was beginning to pick up, so I knew the others wouldn't hear us. Fucking let go of me, he said and pulled his arm from my grip. We are not calling it, I snapped.

Yes, we are. He stated while crossing his arms over his chest. We can't make a documentary if there's nothing to document. It took all of my willpower not to smack him. I'd worked with Martin on over a dozen TV documentaries. We'd made everything from haunted house docs to missing person docs to true crime docs and even some human interest shit that was supposed to make stay-at-home parents weep at 11 o'clock in the morning.

What we'd never done was quit a gig, ever. Look around you, asshole, I said. My eyes locked onto his, and I did not stop staring until he acquiesced and took a look around. Yeah, what? he asked. You're the director, I said. Are you telling me there isn't a story to direct here? We came to do a mystery documentary on strange occurrences and odd deaths. Fucking look!

With the last words I shouted, even with the distance in the wind, a few of the crew turned their heads in our direction. Martin started to argue, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He put his hand to his chin like he does when he's having a vision. Yeah, yeah, he said, and still on his chin. Yeah, okay, yeah, I see it now, yeah. Yeah, I responded, trying not to sound like I was mocking him, even though I was for sure mocking him.

You keep looking. I'll get to work setting up camp and stowing all the gear. We do not want to be outside when the storm hits. No, no, he replied, but I knew he hadn't heard a word I said. He was on autopilot, which was exactly where I wanted his ass to be. I hurried over to the crew as the wind whipped about us. Large flakes of snow had begun to fall, and some of the crates were already coated white. Let's try to keep the tents as close together as possible. I yelled into the water.

wind. Everyone nodded and got to work. Once most of the tents were up, I pulled our assistant producer, assistant director, and all-around assistant of everything, Will, to the side. Make sure Marty's crack about the unions doesn't leave this base camp, all right? I said. Already on it, he said, and from the look in his eyes, I could tell he wasn't lying. I mean it, I said. Take note of the crew. If anyone is grumbling about talking to their union rep when they get back, I want to know, and I want to know now, not when we get back and they've already talked to their fucking union rep. Got it? No, I'm on this, Will said.

It's why you pay me the mediocre bucks. Good, good, I said and clapped him on the shoulder. I've got to try to make a call. I'll come help when I'm done. He nodded and walked off. When I was alone, I hiked over to the shell of one of the huts and crouched down to get out of the wind. I pulled out the satellite phone that was costing me a fortune and made the call to my bank. It was not a good call. I didn't know what Martin had in mind, but I did know our budget

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Whiskey and more whiskey. Beer was cheaper and a better idea. but the cans were iffy at that altitude. Full and drunk, most everyone slipped off to their respective tents and bunks by midnight. I stayed in the main tent with Martin, Gorman, and Will. We'd set up our cots by all of the gear.

I wanted to keep an eye on things. How much did you pay the guides? Martin asked. Not enough, Gorman said. I paid them what was negotiated, I said. Right, Gorman said. Not enough. At least not enough for them to stick around like they were.

supposed to. We were warned it could happen, I said. No one wants an American film crew here shooting a documentary about sightings of some weird creature. And not to mention the folks that have already gone missing looking for the fucking thing, Martin said. Despite having polished off a good half a bottle himself, his words didn't even slur. They're superstitious, I said. The lantern bearer, Martin said. Fourteen reported sightings, two blurry pictures and eight known deaths. We don't know that the deaths are related, Corman said. That's a false correlation. The survivors reported a creature carrying a lantern, Will said, reading his notes off of a tablet.

They got lost hiking when a storm came in. The wind whipped about our tent, punctuating Will's words. The creature led them back to the trail, then... He searched his notes, shaking his head. Then it held out a hand or something. One of the survivors thought it wanted payment. But everyone was too slow, I guess. After waiting for only a couple of minutes, the creature attacked them all.

Four died from that party. Six survived. Four died from another party with only two surviving that encounter. They gave the same story. Good thing I always keep candy in my pocket, Martin said with a laugh. Old traveling trick. Keep the local kids happy and you get all the local gossip. I know, I said. But what does that have to do with anything?

Everyone likes candy, he said and shrugged again. Keep some in your pockets in case we come across this thing. If it wants payment, it'll get a sweet, sweet dayday. He laughed at his own joke. I rolled my eyes. Will continued reading. But Gorman was staring at me. What? I asked.

Why do you keep calling it a creature? He asked. It's obviously some local that's gone nuts. A villager that was exiled or something like that. I mean, it carries a lantern, right? Creatures don't carry lanterns. People do. Eyewitnesses also reported glowing eyes.

Will said still reading. When the lantern went out, the creature's eyes still blazed. That's when it attacks. When it goes all crazy eyes? Martin asked. That's when it attacks? No, when the lantern goes out, Will said. All of the survivors agreed that the creature guided them back to the trail,

turned and held out a hand, and when they didn't give it anything, the lantern went out, and that's when it started attacking everyone. Candy in the pocket for sure, Martin said. I don't know, I said. Candy sounds like an insult. Martin shrugged yet again. We should get some sleep, Gorman suggested.

Call time is five. Before any of us could respond, there were muffled shouts from outside. Then the flaps to the tent flew open, and one of the crew stood there, eyes wide with panic. You gotta come, he said. Now! We pushed up from our chairs and hurried outside. My steps were a little wobbly from the whiskey, as were Gormons and Wills. But Martin was steady as ever.

We'd add a couple floodlights set up, and I could see people running toward the edge of our camp. What the fuck? Martin said when we reached, the crew crowded together. Why isn't anyone shooting this? Most everyone ignored him. As I squeezed through, I realized why. Will was right behind me, and he turned around to throw up. I hardly heard his retching noises as I stared at the two bodies on the ground.

They went to take a piss, someone said from my left. People don't end up like that when they go take a piss, Gorman said from my right. Move! Barton was shouting. Get the fuck out of my way! He shoved the crew and crouched close to the two bodies with a camera on his shoulder. The man hadn't even hesitated. Whoever is making that shadow on their heads, fucking get out of the light, Martin shouted.

Everyone shuffled to the right until the shadow was gone. That's when bile rose in my throat, but I managed to keep it down. The two men's heads were caved in like something had punched right through their faces and into their skulls. Brain, blood, bits of bone, all of it was splattered everywhere. That's when I saw the trail of blood and realized there was more to the scene. Martin, I said quietly. Their arms and legs are missing. No shit, Noel, Martin said, still focusing on the caved-in faces.

Let me get this shot and I'll follow the trail. I expected someone to protest, but I think the crew was in shock. No one said a word. Martin finished with his close-ups, got some surrounding coverage, then turned the camera's lights on and pointed the camera at the trail of blood. Before I could stop him, he was following that train. trail of blood. I hurried after it, and was surprised Will was at my elbow. You good? I asked him. He nodded, then showed me a handgun. I am now. Where did you get that? I asked, shocked and surprised.

Military brat, he said. My dad taught me to find a weapon as soon as you land in a strange new place. The taxi driver got me this the night we landed. Ten bucks? Ten bucks? You sure it works? I asked, as we followed Martin. I tested it. said, no point in a gun if it doesn't fire. I shook my head. Martin stopped. I tried to lean around him to see what he was seeing, but I couldn't get a decent view. We waited and waited. Martin? I asked. You cool? Yeah. He replied, and he actually sounded cool. In fact, he sounded elated. Then he began to circle, and that's when I saw the limbs, or what I assumed were limbs, simply because of the circumstances.

What I really saw was that someone would later describe as flesh confetti. Bits of skin and muscle and parka material were everywhere. It blanketed the area almost as if the limbs had been fed through a wood chipper. I pushed around Will and threw up whiskey and dinner for a good few minutes. After I was done, I rinsed my mouth out with snow, took a deep breath, and forced myself to look at the scene again. Martin was still shooting. That was when I realized none of the crew had followed us.

It was me, Will, Martin, and Gorman. Do we need more coverage? I asked Gorman. Are you fucking serious? He asked. Nah, I get it, Martin said. Then lowered the camera from his shoulder and held it to the side of his leg. But he'd left the lights on so we weren't plunged into complete darkness.

Anyone know where they are? Gorman asked. All eyes were on me. How do I know? I responded. They didn't have faces. I'll go find out. Will said and turned to hike back through the snow to camp.

Leave the gun, Martin said. Do you know how to shoot? Will asked. How hard can it be? Martin replied. Right. Will said then left. Hey!

Martin said. Best if he keeps it, I said. Whatever. Martin said and shrugged. He turned in a circle, then he put the camera back on his shoulder and started walking. walking. Where are you going? I asked. Footprints, he said. They're filling up fast from all this snow. I want to see where they lead. Are you joking? Warman asked. We need to get back to camp and call this in. We'll let the authorities have a look

while we pack up and get the fuck out of here. Get the fuck out of here, Martin asked without looking in our direction. He had the camera focused on a set of faint footsteps still barely visible in the snow. This is fucking gold, Gore. Two people are dead, Martin. Gorman shouted. Noel needs to call it in, and then we go home. This shoot is done. Right, Noel?

Gorman looked at me and I tried not to wince. I don't know if I succeeded, but when I didn't agree with Gorman, he snorted and threw his hands in the air. Of course, he said and was about to start walking away, except Martin had the lights. Gorman froze in place and let his hands fall to his sides. Money first.

I've leveraged it. everything, I said to him. You mean we're broke? Gorman asked. He glanced at Martin. Hey, did Noel tell you we're broke? Why would I care? Martin asked. Noel handles the finances. I make the docks. We make the docks, Gorman said.

And we are done making this one. Gorman focused back on me, and I held up a hand before he could continue. I'll call the authorities in the morning, I said. But we aren't shutting down the shoot unless they say we have to. Jesus, Noel, Gorman said. This is wrong. Oh, fuck! Martin cried out.

Gorman and I rushed over to where he was standing about 10 yards away from the flesh confetti scene. Careful, Martin said. That's a long drop. He wasn't kidding. About five feet in front of us was pure darkness. When Martin turned the camera lights in that direction, we could all see that the darkness was open space. We stared out at the blank nothing. Well, almost nothing.

There were plenty of clouds and swirling snow. Beautiful, Martin said, turning back to us. The camera lights were nearly blinding. Let's get back to camp and talk game plan. He marched past us, back in the direction of the camp. Is he fucking joking? Gorman said. I didn't answer.

I was truly hoping Martin had another of his visions, and he knew exactly how he would make it all work. There's something else here now. Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount, It's the series Stephen King calls Scary as Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now.

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Gorman asked when I told him, Martin, and Will that someone had broken the satellite phone. Not when I'm asleep, I said. I put it in my toiletry bag with my regular phone and my passport. And those are fine, Will said, needlessly filling in the blanks. Right, I said. So someone came into the tent while we were all asleep, took the sat phone out, broke it, and put it back in. Why not toss it into the snows? not toss it into the snow.

Korman asked. Because someone is sending us a message to get the fuck out, Martin said. We were all sleep deprived and hung over. Not Martin. He looked fresher and more energetic than he was back in the States. The man was literally bouncing in his seat. A message? I asked Martin.

Yeah, sure, of course. Martin said. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Get the fuck out. That's the message. Didn't I just say that? There's no one here, I said. That we know of, Martin said.

He shrugged. It was an energetic shrug. Look, he continued. Yesterday we showed up to this village, saw the state it was in, and assumed the place was deserted. That's on us. We have no reason to assume shit up here.

I mean, come on. After last night, what the hell can we assume? That something killed those two guys, Gorman said. Who are they again? I asked Will. Two texts, Will said. Nick Hastings and Kevin Spruce, first time working with us.

That's why I couldn't remember their names, I said. It was a lie. I'd never bothered to learn their names. Rest in peace, Nick and Kevin, Martin said. He stood up and clapped his hands together. Now, let's go do this thing. I can't, Gorman said as he stood up. Martin stopped him mid-rise and pushed him back in his seat.

Okay, okay, let's get this all straight. Martin said like he was holding court. The truck doesn't come back for four days. We have no phone. We're not one that works up here. We aren't going anywhere for a week. We might as well make the best use of the time we have and see what we can salvage from this mess.

Gorman got up fast enough that Martin couldn't stop him a second time. He got right in Martin's face. What's wrong with you? He asked. No, don't answer that. I don't care about you. I care about those dead men out there. I care about the living men out there.

I care more about everyone getting down this mountain safe and sound than I do about making the fucking best of our time here. While you, Mr. asshole director, care only about getting the shots and making a fucking bullshit documentary about a Himalayan boogeyman. Again, no phone, and the truck doesn't get here until the end of the week, Martin said. Are you suggesting that we all walk down the mountain?

Martin looked at will. How many miles is it? 150 miles to the last village we passed on the way up. Will answered almost immediately. Are you going to walk 150 miles, Gorman, my boy? Martin asked, with a shit-eating grin. No, don't answer that. Because the answer is no.

None of us are. Martin went to the tent flaps and shoved them wide open. Heavy snow drifted in as the temperature dropped by 20 degrees. Fuck you! Gorman said, and walked past Mark. Martin out into the snow. We start shooting at ten! Martin yelled after him.

Then he closed the flaps and looked back at me. Am I wrong? He asked. Will's eyes fell on me, but I kept my gaze on Martin. No, I said. We do what we can. Will looked away from me and backed down at his tablet. Then let's get to work, Martin said.

We shot a full schedule's worth that day. Martin was like a directing demon. He never slowed. He even shot footage while we broke for lunch, and when we broke for dinner. That night, after everyone ate and drank and then slipped off to their tents, I sat up with Martin. I was ready to sleep, but I could tell he was still buzzing. What's up? I asked him, sipping on a mug of whiskey. I don't mean a mug with some whiskey at the bottom. No, I filled that fucker up to the brim.

What do you mean? Martin asked. You're acting like you snorted a kilo of cook, all. by yourself, I said. He shrugged. I cracked the story. It wasn't hard. Really? I asked. What's the story? Us, Martin said. Will shot a look at Martin, then one at me. Wisely, he got up and left the tent quickly. Uh-oh. Martin said. Am I getting a talking to? Martin, we can't exploit those men's deaths, I said. You say exploitation, he replied. I say documentation. We need to document what we found, what we know, and then dive deeper.

Hold the fuck on. I said and stood up. Dive deeper. What does that mean? That means we shot the B footage today, along with the storyline shots we need for the voiceover. Martin said. But the real shit we'll shoot tonight, after dark. After dark.

Our night shoot isn't for two more days. Every night is a night shoot now. Martin said, The fucking thing is here, and I'm going to get it on film. The fucking thing? I laughed. Martin, a human did that, just like a human messed with the sat phone. No, Martin said, shaking his head.

Two different things. What did Gore say? A false correlation. Martin. The guys are already grumbling about working at all, let alone every night, I said, and pointed to the tent flaps, especially after what happened last night. But that's why we have to.

to do this, he said, because of what happened last night. Biennue at board of Viarai. Embarked and profited. Embarked and relax. Cirotay. Bookine. Oh, that also.

And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love. It did not go over well with the crew. In fact, it went so poorly that at one in the morning it was only me, Martin, and Gorman tromping through the snow. The entire crew had refused to join us and had stayed back at the camp, which is what saved our lives. Martin insisted on following the same blood trail again.

Although there was no blood to be seen, the snow had piled up a good foot higher since the night before. But the man was like a bloodhound, and he tracked his way through the snow all the way to that same edge of the mountain we'd stood at last night. We're missing something, he said, and turned opposite the cliff's edge, and went deeper into the rocks and stunted trees. that surrounded the area. He took every twist and every turn as fast as he could. It was a struggle for Gorman to keep up

as he followed us with his own camera. We were documenting the documentary per Martin's new vision. Hold on. I said and stopped. Martin kept going. Martin, hold on! I shouted. Gorman came up behind me and lowered the camera.

On top? He asked, breathless and shivering. Did you hear that? I asked. I can't hear shit. Gorman responded. I cocked my head as I turned to face him. It was faint, but I could just hear what I thought was someone calling our names.

I think it's Will, I said. What the fuck? Martin yelled as he came up on us fast. I shoot what's up front. You shoot me. That's how this works. Let's go. Noel thought he heard Will calling her, Gorman said, but was interrupted by the distinct sound of gunfire.

The three of us took off running. I couldn't help but note that Martin was still filming. When we got back to the camp, even Gorman couldn't help himself. He slowly raised his camera to his shoulder and started getting as much footage as he could. In between bouts of throwing up, the camp was destroyed. Equipment was broken and strewn everywhere. The tents were shredded and ripped apart. And so was the crew.

It didn't matter what direction we looked in. There was blood. So much blood. And bits. So many bits. Over here! Gorman called. and I sprinted through the snow to a pile of broken crates.

Will sat on the other side of the pile with Gorman crouched next to him. And Will's lap was his gun, and most of his intestines. I gasped when his eyes moved and met mine. Oh, fuck! Martin said, coming up behind us. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Will whispered something, but I couldn't hear him over the wind. I leaned in and put my ear close to his mouth.

Real, he said. It's... When he didn't continue, I leaned back and saw that the life was gone from his eyes. I plucked the gun from his hands. We need to leave, Gorman said. We take the SD cards out of the cameras. Pack what we need for the hike down and just go. We don't wait until morning.

Sounds good to me, Martin said. But I'm bringing my camera. It'll slow us down, Gorman said. We need to travel fast and travel light. Says you, Martin said. If it becomes a problem, I'll ditch the camera along the way. The two men stared at each other. Pack, I said.

Bring whatever you think you need and think you can carry. We headed back to our tent and salvaged what was left. We layered on whatever clothes we found that weren't wet with snow. I tripled my socks and wrapped my head in a thick towel, leaving only a slit for my eyes. It was below zero, and I wasn't taking any chances. The two others were dressed. similarly to me. We threw food and water into backpacks, put those on, and started off down

the mountain. Martin led the way with the camera. The snow was much deeper than when we arrived, but following the road wasn't too difficult. All of a sudden, the batteries died on the camera. Shit, Martin said. The coal drained the juice. The camera was dead and useless. Martin ejected the small SD card and tucked it into an inside pocket of his parka. Then we kept hiking and hiking and hiking. How far have we gone? Gorman asked, gasping for air. The altitude was getting to us big time.

I don't know, I replied. A million miles? About ten, Martin said. I've been keeping count of my steps. Not even ten percent of the way, Gorman said. The sun will come up and fall again before we're at that village. Maybe someone will come looking. I said.

They didn't bother to respond. We kept walking. Then Gorman grabbed me by the shoulder and stopped me. Martin! I shouted. He pulled up and turned around. What? He asked.

What? I asked Gorman. We've left the road, he said. I looked down at my feet. I could barely see them in the darkness. I fished out my actual phone and turned on the flashlight. Shit, I said. We'll be fine, Martin said.

Just keep heading down. Everything is down. Gorman and I shared a look, but neither had a better idea. We headed down. Another hour of walking went by before Martin stopped and held up a hand. No way. He said. No fucking way.

What? Gorman asked. Then I saw it. A light up ahead and heading towards us. God damn it! Martin shouted. Hey! Gorman shouted, waving his arms over his head.

Over here! You're perfect. Martin sat with a snarl. What's your deal? I asked. That's help. Martin chuckled. If we're lucky, why are you mad?

I asked. Because I don't have a fucking camera. He said, snarling again. He pointed to the light that was getting closer. And that's not what you think it is. As the light got closer, I realized Martin was right. The light stopped about 10 yards away, then turned around, and started going in the direction it had come from. I grabbed his shoulder and gave him.

a shake. That's it, I said. He looked at me, confused. I sighed. The creature or whatever, that's it. Oh, fuck, Gorman said. What do we do? We follow it. Martin said and took off like he didn't have a care in the world, or like he'd totally forgotten the butchery we'd witnessed only a few hours earlier. I had to pull Gorman along to get him to come with us. We walked for close to another hour, although that's a guess. My sense of time was not exactly working so hot. Neither was my sense of reality. When the light stopped moving, so did we. It waited. We waited. Then Martin stepped forward. It's a lantern, he called to us. We closed on him, but didn't pass him. I looked down,

and realized the snow was thinning slightly. I stamped my feet and was surprised to find my boots were clumping on heavy gravel under all of that snow. We were back on the road. I looked back up and had to squint. The light was intense, almost as intense as the camera's lights. But once we were close enough, I could see he was right. It was a lantern being held up by a lone figure. About six feet tall, it looked human, or human-shaped at least.

It held the lantern aloft, then a hand extended forward. I can't describe the hand other than, again, it was human-shaped. Martin didn't even question what was going on. He reached into his pocket, took something out, and set it in the hand. The fingers curled around whatever it was and drew back into the shadows. Then after a few seconds, the hand appeared again, palm up, waiting. Give it your candy, Martin said. I'm what? I asked.

Your candy, he said. He turned and looked at me. His eyes went wide. I told you to keep candy in your pocket. I thought you were fucking kidding. I said. I wasn't. He said. I shoved my hand into my left pants pocket. Nothing.

I shoved my hand into my right pants pocket. Oh shit. I pulled out the item and held it up. It's not candy, but it's my life. I said, placing my one working credit card into the open palm. The hand withdrew once more. Then it extended out again. Give it something, I said to Gorman.

I don't have anything, he said. My pockets are in. Give it something. Martin hissed. I don't have any. Gorman began to shout, but the lantern went out before he could finish. And when the lantern was out, the screaming started. Later, when we dared talk to each other about it.

Martin and I couldn't even guess at how little time passed from when the lantern was extinguished to when Gorman first started screaming. At first, he screamed for help. Then he was just screaming. Then he wasn't doing either of those things. I had to slam my eyes shut as warm blood sprayed over me. Luckily, I was mostly covered by the towel, so I didn't get any of it in my mouth or nose,

but I smelled Gorman the entire rest of the trek down the mountain. Both Martin and I carried him with us like a coat of paint. I don't know if that thing took us on a shortcut or what, but we reached the village as the sun rose. The villagers, extremely wary at first, helped us to an empty hut where we could rest and get clean. The authorities arrived two days later. We told them everything.

They told us to leave their country and never come back. Not a problem. The problem was that Martin was the only one with an SD card. We never got Gorman's. The documentary was canceled because of a lack of footage. No surprise. I went into bankruptcy. No surprise.

But I'd happily declare bankruptcy a million times again if it meant I could close my eyes again without hearing Gorman over and over. in my mind. Because when the lantern goes out, the screaming starts. SCP 5252 is an approximately two-meter-tall humanoid entity of indeterminate race and gender, which carries an oil lantern. Reported details regarding its appearance are sparse and unclear. SCP 5252 travels at will by unknown means throughout a 26.3-square-kilometer section of land located in the central region of Nepal, within the Himalayan Mountains. The area includes a remote mountain pass, numerous hiking trails, and a local village.

A pattern of injuries, thefts, and disappearances has been attributed to SCP 5252. Most often seen on adjacent peaks or trails moving along at a walking pace, sightings of this entity date back in local records to 1435. But oral tradition puts the potential, potential first emergence of SCP 5252 within the 12th century. Instances of this entity coming into closer range of observers are primarily during inclement weather. Reports indicate that lone or paired climbers, who become lost, often mistake it for a Sherpa or rescuer and follow the entity back to the trailhead. SCP 5252 has only been observed as a dark outline of a tall humanoid figure. SCP 5252 stays several meters ahead of the observer and does not respond to verbal commands or inquiries, regardless of the language spoken.

Once the observed figure reaches the trailhead, it will stop and wait for the hiker to catch up to it. Survivors report that the brightness of the lantern makes any details of the figure indistinguishable, but a dark hand is held out, open palm, to the lone or nearest human. If the individual fails to present SCP 5252 with an item, it will take an object by force or inflict injury. Sightings and encounters with SCP 5252 have been found to be increasing in conjunction with rising numbers of tourists in the area. Fan of soccer, you could assist a moment historic.

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