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SCP-XXXX - A.L.I.C.E
Special Containment Procedures: Subject is to be kept in a standard humanoid containment module within Site-██ with manual locks and a non electronic door. There must be 2 (two) armed guards present to both secure subject and to prevent a possible containment breach. Subject must be kept 5 (five) meters away from any electronic devices especially those which contain data, electricity or any information that questions the foundations' anonymity. On the event of a security breach, caused by subject or not, subjects' anomalous properties may be used for personnels' exile or for reference. Any staff working with SCP-XXXX are reminded not to speak with the subject unless directed otherwise by 2 (two) Level-3 agents. Personnel working with the subject must also speak in a soft tone when speaking directly to SCP-XXXX.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a humanoid Caucasian female of approximately 19 year
SCP-XXXX - The Good Employee
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be kept covered in a standard 10m x 10m Containment cell on Site- ██. Personnel are reminded not to remove the tarp over the subject at any time.
Description:SCP-4081 is a weathered wooden office desk with one (1) standard office chair, one(1)yellow coffee mug,two(2) pens and one(1) red Swingline brand stapler. Found in a meadow in Germany when a photographer fell victim to the item's anomalous properties on ██/08/ ████. When subjects view SCP-XXXX they instantly have the desire to sit in the office chair (hereby referred to as SCP-XXXX-B) and use the items inside of SCP-XXXX's drawers. Viewers of the item often resort to violence in order to be the "best employee" and attacking anyone within 20 m of the item. The "best employee" will then seat him(her)self, pull items out of SCP-XXXX's drawers and make "work-like" motions. Often taking five
SCP-XXXX -The Weeping Tree
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be kept in a standard outside botanical containment and must be trimmed monthly to avoid any minor hazards. Surrounding area of SCP-XXXX should be cleaned and cared to once per day. Guards are to make sure civilians do not tamper with the subject.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a tree that appears to resemble the common Acer saccharum (Sugar Maple tree) and grows to 45 m in hight when left untrimmed. Subject was found in ██████, Ontario, Canada. Four (4) miles into █████████ Botanical Gardens and secluded from the other trees in the park. Subject has burnt orange and lemon yellow foliage. When personnel inquired about SCP-XXXX present staff did not seem to have any records but did note sighting the subject "raining". Although there are no known records of the subject in or beyond █
SCP-2938 (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)
Item #: SCP-2938
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Samples of SCP-020 are kept in a hermetically sealed cylindrical cultivation chamber measuring 1 m in diameter and 1 m high. This chamber is located inside its own sealed containment room in ██████, which is accessible only via airlock.
In case of security breach SCP-2938 should be considered ALPHA PRIORITY
SCP-2938 can be temporarily neutralized by they use of exposure to extremely low temperatures.
Video surveillance cameras are installed within the containment room, and must be checked every three (3) hours. Any personnel entering the containment room must wear Biosafety Level 5 equipment. In case of personnel being present during a containment breach of SCP-2938 any personnel are to be considered expendable. The procedure of containing SCP-2938 personnel are required to expose SCP-2938 to concentrated temperatures below -300ºC.
SCP-2939 - Book of Riddles
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-2939 is to be kept in an underground vault secured by no fewer than five armed guards.
Revision: SCP-2939 is to be kept in a passcode-secured locker. Further research requires O5 approval.
Description: SCP-2939 is a hardcover book, approximately 3,000 pages long. The front cover and spine feature the title "Book of Riddles Vol.1" with no information of the author or press and no records exist. SCP:2939 was discovered in ██████,Iowa by a group of hikers. When opened, SCP:2939 will pull its reader into a trance in which the reader (now referred to as SCP:2939-2) will be asked a series of riddles, this process can not be interrupted due to SCP:2939's ability to throw SCP:2939-2 into a state of dysphoria until SCP:2939 can continue, SCP:2939-2 will even resort to violence if denied returning to the process. SCP
SCP-2937 - Petra Virus
Security Clearance Adequate: Access Authorized
Item #: SCP-2937
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2937 samples are biological hazards and all related protocols apply. Zero communications from operatives or outside channels during any given twenty-five(25)-hour period. The quarantine period for operatives leaving the facility is one (1) month. If a breach has occurred, incineration and irradiation measures shall be deployed. [DATA EXPUNGED] testing completed and shows no need for further examination.
Personnel are required to be observed after handing samples of the virus regardless of their level. If personnel are showing symptoms of SCP-2937 ,in its later state of progression, personnel will be terminated as well as any one who has ██████████ with infected personnel.
Description: SCP-2937 is a contagion that leaves subject as a statue. SCP-2937 is contracted by the exc
The Little GirlI am anger and so much pain.
I wonder how long until it drives me insane.
I hear father screaming but inside he is gleaming,
I see him coming my way.
I want to be free and I want to get out.
I am anger and so much pain.
I pretend if I stay there will be something to gain.
I feel so lost, I feel so ashamed.
I touch the lifeless bird on the grass.
I worry I'll too look the same.
I cry from the drunken grasp.
I am anger and so much pain.
I understand what will happen, it's killing my brain.
I say "I am sorry" but I mean "I forgive".
I hope that one day I'll be worthy to live.
I am fear and so much pain.
DarknessI am so lonely.
My mother is death.
My father is loathing.
I will twist you and turn you out.
Always making sure you never see me coming.
Scream all you wish but no one will ever find you.
You cry and I fill with glee.
I'll sweep you up then blind you.
I know you're afraid, I smell it in the air.
I break everyday, and not one soul cares.
It seems my whispers misguide you.
I don't love you in any way.
The touch of my hand will instantly frighten you.
But we both know not much of me can harm.
Though, with you there is fear.
You are half right.
With their wits and their charm they will catch you unarmed
And eat all of the light you hold dear.
I am from....I am from the grey cottage with a statue of a baby in front, from ice cream, Tolkien and solitary play dates.
I am from the hill, the last house on the right, with the aisle of pavement and a cherry tree. From the smell of lilacs and gardenias in the summer.
I am from the two great bushes, tulips and soil, the evergreens, the dandelions and the majestic moss.
I am from never surrendering to traditions and the Hobbit body shape, from mother and grandma and Turners alike.
I am from compassion and impatience.
From "you can be anything you dream to be" and "don't you ever stick your tongue out at me again".
I am from loyalty and understanding. I am from the desire to understand all views.
I’m from the Cherokee, the Germans and many more. I am from pasta and lumpia.
From the bumps and bruises of exploring the woods and from breaking my glasses when I fell.
I am from the bookshelf, in the living room, with albums, and photos and many, many, cookbooks.
I am from fireflies, moonlight and
One tear... dearly spent. (Act-I)
I see their faces, they, the unloved ones, dry eyes, no smiles, just a stark and desperate gaze, bereaved of care, hope, love.
Each little face gazing bleakly on through the fractured glass of a picture frame, but not at me...
I lay it down, gently. For I'll find no comfort in it, only remnant shards of a forgotten memory, one soon to pass with me long into the halls of eternity.
This the equal sum of all my years. One just memory, fare earned, bought at a fair price, one of ill deeds and a blackened soul.
I feel pain, for myself, for this world, for the last time. Also fear, so real to me now, that he, this dark loathsome one, would leave me behind.
Unwanted as unworthy, to remain here, a fool in purgatory.
The cold now grips me as if embraced by it, just as a mother would an inconsolable child.
I look into the deepest dark, and ask him. "What is Hell like?" He took no notice, and ask me for the time.
But his question went unanswered, for the
PetrichorI walk without an errand for the mind.
I must be homeless.
Neighboring enclaves separate our spaces,
belie their builders’ mirthless exhaustion.
Not even necessity can be blamed
for these mud-struck, brittle gourds,
these quick nests of vasculous organs
pulsing with their peculiar tyrannies,
briefly scuttling from their hovels
like sun refugees
darting into gleaming storefronts
waffled in concrete misery
all to forestall the end of their souls.
Where can we go when we only want to breathe?
Sitting in a park bench,
trillion-visioned, crowned with galaxies,
I can rest my weary invention.
I sense the weight of an unseen player,
a secret stratagem
as she moves her piece into the glade.
I’m set in place, yet unopposed.
Uncombined with lovers, children,
the slow parade of trees and heat,
I lay beside these stalwarts,
at once, still and hurtling
throughout the travesty of time.
I assemble a cumulus intelligence
near the playground,
threatening Summer with three days
She could have lived til 90Words spill so quickly from her lips
Wrapping around her pale throat like an intricate necklace
And as she rapidly-elegantly spits them- they squeeze her neck
At least no blood is being wasted as the words burn into her skin…
And she can’t breathe for a while now
While the magic is finishing up- taking some of her life as payment.
EnchantedA golden apple tang
Heralds summer's brightest fire
But I prefer to amble in
In the darkest corners
There are no haunted whispers
And only caramel shadows
Transfer daylight's memories
For unto me the stars
Snapping leaves leading moonlight
Are not my coldest lonely hour
But a renewal of soul
at lasti am terrified of death
the epithelia have been pierced
and eyelids rolled back
and i feel you.
two boys left crouching in an empty dressing room
after a scouring cold shower
face to face in opposing corners
RefugePlaces to go and places to see
Places to see and places to leave
Places that only last for a moment
Places that lasts for eternity
Places are hard to find now
Everything is stamped and yet hard to find
Hard to get in and hard to adapt
Try your best to fit in; join the crowd
Nothing but places for the world to blossom
Bars, clubs, and even cafes; need I go on?
Places to pay just to stay a moment
Places that calls themselves refuges
Places to just get away from all the chaos
All the chaos and imbalance of this world
Broken homes, broken dreams, broken hopes
A place just to get away from it all, all for your soul
Places that make you try hard to fit in
Places that have people armed to the teeth
Outsiders were never really welcomed here
Biting, clawing, and tearing down piece by piece
Need I go on? These places are not refuges
These places are chaotic as a broken home
Need I go on? I have all day
I know of a place; a place of true refuge
Down the road and past some trees
Every Thursday nig
Damaris: Foreign GodWhat is this message that you bring,
what is this "good news" that you preach?
Who is this strange God from afar -
and what should it matter to me?
We are Greeks - we have our gods,
more gods than you.
What's a foreign god to me?
Your story's nice -
but what's it to me?
But you say
was always there,
even when I did not see Him.
has always cared
for all the world
even though we did not know it -
for this God
is the creator
and all mankind is his -
is the sustainer,
who provides for all that is.
This is no foreign God
but the one true God of all -
and that's why it matters to me.
is the one who made me.
is the one who knew me
before I even knew myself.
cares not only for one people -
for all the peoples on earth are His.
In Him we live,
in Him we move,
in Him we have our being -
is the true God
Sweet JoyAll alone
Huddling in a prison cell
Made by self rejection
Afraid of what the world holds
Curled into a tight ball
Silently waiting for change
Light walks in
Stands her on her feet
"Let me romance you"
Takes her gently by the hand
Into the arms of Love
They waltz together
Creating a valley of peace
Beloved once again
I am ArtemisI am the woman who stands beside you. Always keeping a watchful eye.
I have the hands that will warm and guide you. To keep you safe from death's surprise.
I will run through the forest to find you. I will be there for every hunt.
I am the shadow lurking behind you, but never fear,my child , I won't be blunt.
I am the mother, the hunter and your friend.
You will see my light when the dawn comes to an end.
Stand beside me and you'll never step away from bliss.
I am the guardian inside you.
I am Artemis.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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