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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
False ConceptTime is an illusion
And we make a delusion
As if we know the conclusion
Better than the real resolution
How small we are in this c n u i n
o f s o
Of what lengths of time envision
Much greater than our own observation
Our knowledge is a masked intrusion
Obscure in our own consumption
Time has its sessions
And we are just a provision
In an never ending mission
Art Can Be-Skipping and jumping and hopping
And swimming and dancing and
Art can be
You with friends
And a box of sparklers on a
Warm summer night.
Art can be
The snow that melts
In your hair and the warmth
Of the fire inside during winter.
Art can be
You racing outside with no one
But yourself and whatever you love
Whether you can touch it or not.
Art can be
Words on a page or a scrap of paper
Or a napkin at that one diner that got
Art can be
Little scribbles on the back of a
Test, where you're in school and the
Person next to you is exactly at that
Art can be
You with ten other people
Just dancing around like idiots
Or by yourself practicing that one part
In a complicated routine.
Art can be
Random streaks of color,
Whether it's made by light and clouds
And rain, or by paints or pencils or digital
Art can be
A choir of young children
Or a few friends, no matter the age,
Just hanging out singing old songs in the
Art can be
DesperateYou said, to keep my eyes on You,
that the shifting- the raging seas are not to be feared.
You said that with the faith the size of a mustard seed-
that I can say to the mountains, ‘Be moved,’ and they will be uprooted.
I just need the strength, the courage, the faith to believe.
I gasp, I struggle, I am desperate.
Desperate for the pain to cease.
Desperate for the screaming to end.
Desperate for one touch of healing.
One touch to feel that You are with me.
I fight against chaos and deception,
against an uprooted faith, lingering.
With fists clasped, with a spirit roaring, raving.
I scream into the emptiness, the darkness,
void of belief- laced within this despair.
There is a certain hopelessness that comes
when you lay helplessly in a state of desperation.
It leads you to a revelation that paints new light
to an otherwise deadly situation.
I wish I could say I didn’t reach that point,
that family surrounding me was enough
to encourage a fight ins
Is like a butterfly:
And difficult to capture,
For the short moment
When you cup it in your hands.
SacrilegeI hope sometimes, when I hear the thunder,
that when I stand in the middle of a field
and watch the clouds roll in far above me
like a curtain, dark enough to substitute night-time,
I won't be ignored by the God I never believed in
and it will not be daylight
any time soon.
My grandmother used to tell me that
"thunder is God moving furniture"
and that "it's so loud because it's actually very heavy."
and I'd just think, that if God has bedposts made from gold
why are we still starving?
why are we still poor?
why are we still so afraid of the booms in the sky
Never Lose HopeSometimes
In the midst of
A dark night of the soul,
Will perch in the tree
Outside your window
And sing to you
That the morning is coming.
Woden GivesWoden gives to those that take
blood for blood in walking flesh
a gift of wisdom for seekers’ held
the wheat shall sift from grain
and chaff is more a dirty word
it’s kith for kin in our own world
children young and withered old
a hunger for and a thought about
the spinning wheel inside the circle
that turns about throughout all ages
faith and family and Blood and Gods
it is the cycle of our lives
no more schemes and no more violence
our Fate is in our hands.
Les querelles et les religionsLa religion des querelles.
Querelles de religions ou quand Dieu se mord la queue.
Une religion reproduit dans les fosses
De l’iniquité et de l’intolérable
Un christianisme de l’inquisition.
Ceux-là aussi se disaient des saint-hommes,
Œuvrant pour et au nom de Dieu,
Qui torturaient et brûlaient l’innocent.
Quand une religion se bâtit sur
Une perversion des valeurs morales,
Il n’y a plus dans sa foi de lueur
D’une quelconque spiritualité.
Il est heureux que les prophètes morts
Ne voient pas cette abomination
Que leurs révélations ont suscitée.
Dieu se querelle avec lui-même…
Via ses propres révélations!
Ternie, l’image de Dieu n’est plus
Que cette caricature de lui-même
En bête sans queue ni tête
Déferlant en barbarie sur le monde.
Tout chacun interprète la Parole
Et le débile qui crie le plus fort
De sa Kalachnikov a toujours ra
in one of the stars you shall be livingi'm sorry i can't save
you with a name
or hold you.
i will never be able
to teach you
how to shave,
how to talk to your
crushes in middleschool
or how to tie a tie,
use a pocket knife,
how to make rice.
and how tell your mother
you're sorry you got an F
in math class,
or how to make her
( alfredo shrimp pasta )
to make her smile;
i have a cheat sheet in
my head to make your
mother smile but you'll
never be old enough to
use it; at five, you could
recite a poem by Neruda
and at six you could draw
in a box,
or a hat
and only we would know
its a boa eating an elephant,
(she'd ask why you drew a hat,
but she would know better)
but if god
exists he should be
and you will hear this
from the mouth
of our father.
the stars will hold your smile
and i will not forget you
i could not stop
the river of red
away from me.
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.
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