Item #: SCP-213-FR
Threat Level: Yellow ●
Object Class: Euclid Supposedly Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-213-FR is to be kept in an automated containment area. The instructions must be regularly reviewed to ensure that the number of tales archived is optimal.
The book must be placed on a sufficiently sensitive scale to detect the appearance of each new page created (pages weigh approximately 12.4 grams each) so that the overall change in weight can be transcribed in the form of a readable graph in the Site-██ database. The data must be verified manually and in person by the research team once per week.
The "reading" device of SCP-213-FR consists of a mechanical arm calibrated to turn the pages of the currently visible tales with a turning interval of about fifteen minutes per page. The arm will be accompanied by a camera positioned above the manuscript which is to be triggered every minute to create an visual archive of the stories.
Only researchers assigned to the project are authorised to enter SCP-213-FR's containment space, and are only permitted to carry out measurements and analyses of the anomalous object. The latter is not necessary if the employee is provided with an exceptional authorisation by the Site Director. The project manager will be provided with various, flexible human resources, including experts from the Departments of Old and Living Languages, Fictive Literature, Anomalous Wildlife and Flora, as well as any field investigator with the information and skills needed to discover the link between our reality and the dimension described by SCP-213-FR.
Update 20/05/2017: As a result of the Ribera Incident, the special containment procedures of SCP-213-FR have been updated.
SCP-213-FR must be placed in a storage locker for "Safe" objects on Site-██; monthly verification must be carried out for any changes in the situation. Otherwise SCP-213-FR must no longer be accessible to Foundation employees for any reason whatsoever, except in exceptional procedures.
Description: SCP-213-FR is a very large bound manuscript, titled "The Vagabonds of the Dark Forest: Fears of Our Childhood". The back cover characterises it as a "children's story book, to be read in the evening before going to sleep". Each tale represents a story on one or more illustrated pages, always depicting a child trapped in an anomalous forest, whose location remains unknown. Tales are evolutionary, these alterations having been identified as a printout, current or previously completed, of the protagonists' adventures as they evolve within the environment. The size of the manuscript seems to adapt in such a way that it can contain an indefinite number of tales, taking into account those that appear regularly at the end of the book.
The SCP-213-FR-P entities are the protagonists of the different tales of SCP-213-FR, supposedly human and always aged from 3 to 17 years old. Their countries and epochs of origin are extremely varied, as SCP-213-FR is seemingly capable of neglecting constraints and limitations, both temporal and physical. A certain number of siblings seem to be involved, but are always limited to two individuals. Some protagonist first names alongside other information correspond to missing person notices filed in various police stations around the world, sometimes several decades before the associated tale was written.
The way in which SCP-213-FR-P would be transported to the Dark Forest has yet to be discovered, but the hypothesis favoured by the research team theorises that the extra-dimensional nature of the location where the narrative takes place is responsible, which limits the possibilities for research and experimentation.
Each protagonist is assigned one or more pages, recounting in their native language the notable events of their stay within the dimension, until they die or find their way out. Depending on the outcome of the story, the pages concerned will be modified accordingly: the death of the protagonist will generally result in an unreadable page, complicating the archiving of the different narratives contained in SCP-213-FR. However, it has been established that the average length of a story is approximately 4 pages: compared to the total number of pages contained in the book [16 245 356 as of the 17/05/2017 update], this value makes it possible to establish that the number of tales and subsequently, protagonists, is around at least four million. SCP-213-FR generally contains about thirty active tales, constantly renewing those that have ended.
It is not known what happens to the SCP-213-FR-P at that time, as they are not likely to be brought back into our dimension once their tales are over. The probability of success for a protagonist was estimated to 9.31%; this figure tends to include mainly groups of SCP-213-FR-P working together to survive. Therefore, the protagonists of certain active tales will sometimes meet, brought together without any prior input thanks to the hazards of their wanderings; in 80% of cases, a framework of mutual cooperation is set up in order to increase their chances of survival, as opposed to 14% of voluntary and definitive, yet peaceful, separation after a more or less brief contact, and 6% of the percentage representing violent or lethal encounters for one or the other of the protagonists (including attempted theft, murder, rape and cannibalism). In these cases, most of the associated stories will share identical passages of text.
The environment described by SCP-213-FR is similar to that of a temperate forest, where most of the local plant or animal species would have been under the effect of a growth factor giving them a larger size than their non-anomalous equivalent. The atmosphere there would be "heavier, darker and more frightening than all the horrors of the world". Approximate mapping of the forest in question is available from the Archives Department.
The ecosystem is home to several anomalous, or otherwise endemic to the dimension, species and entities, most of which are hostile to SCP-213-FR-P. The list of known or partially identified species and their designation within SCP-213-FR is as follows:
SCP-213-FR-AR, called "The Nourishing Trees", belong to a specific tree species representing approximately one-tenth of the plant population of the Dark Forest. Each representative houses a colony of SCP-213-FR-MO, giant millipedes known as "The Harversters", with which they invariably live in symbiosis. Each adult specimen of SCP-213-FR-AR is slightly elevated above the ground by the entanglement of its roots, which forms a cavity underneath the trunk that can harbour a small human body.
In the centre of this burrow grows a specific variety of roots, which provide a nutritious solution when any pressure is applied to them: the protagonists generally use this property to sustain themselves and hydrate, although its consumption induces great emotional distress in the subjects. The substance is found to be addictive in the very short term, especially for infants, as the protagonists continue to feed on SCP-213-FR-AR for hours, even after their hunger has been satisfied.
When a SCP-213-FR-AR is drained in sufficient quantities of its substance, the associated colony of SCP-213-FR-MO will then deploy in search of resources to be procured to the tree, usually from a living being nearby. The millipedes will gradually remove organic fragments from their target and regurgitate them in openings in the centre of their nests until the reserves of their SCP-213-FR-AR are replenished. This can sometimes lead to the death of the individual whose flesh they extract: in most cases, this is the fate of the protagonists weakened by their addiction and unable to detach themselves from its source. The pages of their story are then drained of ink, making them unreadable.
Researchers assume that SCP-213-FR-MO returns only the flesh and blood of the victim to the tree, and feed on the rest of the body, including all hair, nails, bones and clothing: No tale ever mentions the discovery of a body, even partial, under a SCP-213-FR-AR; simply small objects, such as a hairpin or doll.
Excerpt from Julan Quispe's tale, 5 years
Then, like the infant sucking at his mother's breast, Julan began to lick the miraculous roots, swallowing with new energy this fluid sweeter than milk and honey, more bitter than sap and blood. The taste was disgusting, it tore his throat out of him: but the hunger was stronger, and in spite of the almost vital need to detach himself from it and throw up, he could not find the strength to abandon this source of food; that sensation, so intimately lodged, the one that violated his free will and could not do anything about, made him cry and groan.
The seconds passed, then the minutes, the hours… And always, Julan was breast-fed by the vegetal udders, with shaking hands and watery eyes.
A pain took him to the calf, but he did not stop eating. When the sensation became more violent, however, finding echoes in various parts of his body, he took a look at the ground, the root still in his mouth.
And on his leg he saw an insect taking a flap of skin, after tearing the garments.
Terrified, the boy jumped and wanted to get away: but an urgent need forced him to continue feeding. A second pain took him to his arm, torso, and neck: and without interruption, Julan, while feeding, fed the forest, giving his body as a true hero.
Soon, the toddler had returned to the tree all that he had borrowed from it, paying his debt.
The pages of the story were then drained of ink.
SCP-213-FR-NA, called "The Natives", refers to a species believed to belong to the reign of primates, the size of which would exceed eight metres in height. Their diet is exclusively vegetarian, consisting largely of leaves and bark from trees and roots. Despite their particularly remarkable size, these creatures camouflage themselves naturally in their habitat, due to their dark fur and extremely slow pace of life.
The instances of SCP-213-FR-NA, although they have never demonstrated any ability to communicate with others, nor any particular intelligence, are nevertheless endowed with a sense of art and aesthetics, perhaps even of the sacred. Indeed, their territories are often decorated with many utensils that have no other purpose than to embellish the surroundings of their den.
Entities do not actively pursue the protagonists, and do not seem to want to harm them per se: the implications of their actions seem to escape their comprehension, their interest motivated only by their natural needs, as well as a lively curiosity and a search for aesthetics. They thus manifest a very particular fascination for the human heads, and will not hesitate to obtain them directly from the protagonists who would pass within their reach, abandoning the rest of the body. The mention in some tales of carved wooden figures on which the heads would be placed, induces that these creatures are more interested in the decorative properties of their new acquisition, rather than in the true will to do harm or to kill.
SCP-213-FR-NA never tries to capture a protagonist who would flee in front of them, and seems to lack any hunting instinct: most of the deaths related to this species are the product of accidents, a protagonist who is not attentive to their environment or who has poorly selected his resting place. The pages of their story are then separated from the rest of the page and disappear as microscopic residues, making the text partially unreadable.
Excerpt from Emma Thompson's tale, 10 years
A sinister cracking above her head drew Emma out of Morpheus' arms.
Distraught, our heroine did not see at first the threat that awaited her from above. She only became aware of this when her little sister's lifeless body crashed beside her; and, paralysed, the girl realised that her sister had no head left.
With her eyes raised, Emma saw only one huge hand, standing out on the contours of the sky, advancing towards her relentlessly.
Shouting, to rid her fear rather than out of sheer fright, she threw herself on her side and began to run, wisely taking the party of flight. A glance behind her engraved a vision in her childlike spirit that she would never forget: a huge, gigantic silhouette hidden in the shade, two eyes shining well above the low branches.
Then, frightened but alive, Emma went deeper into the forest, towards new adventures.
Alone.
The protagonist in this tale is one of the 9.31% who managed to make it to the exit. The pages of the tale associated with her sister, Sarah Thompson, 6 years old, were stripped of their headings, which destroyed part of the text in addition to the illustrations.
SCP-213-FR-SCU, "The Sculptress of the Flesh", sometimes referred to as the "Witch", is a supposedly human woman of old age, living alone and withdrawn in a two-storey mansion, located in the middle of a clearing. Her physical appearance is only partially perceived by the protagonists, and little information is known about her. By cross-checking her various appearances within SCP-213-FR, the research team was able to paint a light portrait through these descriptions: it is an "elder with a wrinkled face" and "uncertain features", with a "stunted and ungrateful physique", hair "with sheer tufts and partially missing" and "mostly long, thin and with white highlights".
The description of the manor indicates that just under half of the furniture that contributes to the sustained state of the house are living organisms, made of flesh and coarse skin, with prominent veins and certain major organs, such as the heart. On the other hand, they do not need to be fed and do not seem to react to external stimuli or have any measurable consciousness, since they lack the digestive system and brain. However, they require regular maintenance, since they can be subject to injuries or infections. It has been repeatedly confirmed that this furniture was created by SCP-213-FR-SCU with her own hands.
To date, SCP-213-FR-SCU is the only known entity with almost no hostility towards the protagonists: she seems to play the role of an helper and guide in the narrative structure, welcoming and nurturing SCP-213-FR-P who reach her home and helping them in their search for a way out, as long as they abide by the rules of her domain. These are as follows:
- Never look directly at the host, always turn your back.
- No insults or rudeness within the mansion.
- No violence.
- Take care of the objects in the house.
- Never try to interact with objects of flesh.
- Don't put your thumb in your mouth.
If an individual strives to violate these rules, SCP-213-FR-SCU will lose patience and use its anomalous powers to reduce the subject of her wrath to an uninformed mass of flesh, which will be stored until the Sculptress decides to use it to further enhance her home. As her workshop has never been seen in an archived tale to date, the process of manipulating the flesh remains unknown.
If the protagonist "dies" in this way, the pages of his tale will be modified to become coarse reproductions of flesh, with a texture similar to the furniture mentioned in the tales, making the text particularly difficult to decipher.
Excerpt from Thomas Roux's tale, 16 years,
"Lea didn't come home tonight."
Thomas stiffened, his fork frozen in a piece of overcooked and unattractive meat.
"She was supposed to come home with you."
Behind him, he heard the weak little steps that the witch made while working near the chimney, to put back wood. There were no accusations in her tone, but the boy knew that his honour was being called into question in this case.
"I lost sight of her in the forest."
His conversational partner did not answer. She was just fanning the fire. The flames cast her shadow in front of the guest, who could observe its trembling contours: a round, pathetic silhouette.
"Are you sure you lost her?"
A grimace appeared on Thomas' lips, who would have liked to punish the impertinent woman.
"What's the matter? She'll come home eventually."
He didn't want to think about Lea. Didn't want to think about what happened in the woods a few hours ago.
"I don't like that tone, Thomas darling."
The boy started to sneer.
"I don't give a shit."
"Language."
Cooled by the unjustified reproach, the hero-to-be violently threw his fork, which slipped on the table until it fell to the ground.
In front of him, the Chinese shadow was curiously motionless.
"Watch yourself, Thomas. I am tolerant of children, especially younger ones. But soon, you won't be a child anymore."
"Stop pretending you're my mother." he whispered as he looked around him.
All those hideous, monstrous objects. As made of human flesh, an abomination for the senses. All this disgusted him in the depths of his soul. Thomas was very happy not to be allowed to touch it: he would have been too afraid to burst one of the red and disproportionate veins while sitting on the couch.
He was pretty sure he saw a tuft of hair or hairs protruding from the corner of the armrest.
"Last warning, Thomas."
The threat was so ridiculous that he laughed.
"Oh, stop it. Do you know what you look like? You couldn't raise your hand on me."
And, to illustrate, he turned in her direction, contemplating the truthfulness of his affirmation.
He had just enough time to see a tiny silhouette, covered with sheer tufts and hair partially missing from the skull, as if patches had been torn off.
His whole body began to itch furiously.
"I warned you, Thomas."
The boy could no longer stop scratching himself in every direction, like a dog covered with vermin. Frightened, he saw that his fingers began to merge and fuse, without him being able to do anything.
"What the…"
His mouth was sealed in turn, forever.
"You never were a bright child."
The Sculptress of the Flesh contemplated the new block that now stood still before her. Thoughtful, she compared about all the possibilities opened to her, and made her choice.
"But you will surely make a very pretty lamp."
The pages of the tale then turned into a reproduction of the texture of a block of flesh.
SCP-213-FR-LU, also referred to as "Lost Lights", is an unpredictable, random phenomenon, targeting certain protagonists, especially the older children. It usually occurs in the most wooded and deserted areas of the Dark Forest.
The stories report little information about this particular phenomenon, so our knowledge of the event is very partial and incomplete.
SCP-213-FR-LU manifests itself by the progressive appearance of luminous orbs levitating above the ground, emitting a certain amount of thermal energy. This phenomenon is supposed to be dangerous, even hostile if the reactions of certain orbs to human contact are correctly analysed, seeming to indicate the existence of a capacity for reflection and analysis.
The fate of the protagonists interacting with SCP-213-FR-LU has not yet been observed in an archived tale; the pages of the stories concerned are cremated before the text is even written, cutting off the narrative thread and rendering the text unreadable.
It has been theorized that this last fact was due to a particularly violent and rapid death (presumably by cremation), so that the protagonists would not have time to suffer or realize that they were dying.
Excerpt from Amitrasudan [Unknown family name]'s tale, 13 years
"What is that?"
Never before had the children seen such wonders: the forest was decorated with softly luminous lanterns, floating in the mist like stars above the ground.
"Don't touch those lanterns." recommended the youngest member of the group, Romane.
His companions ignored the ominous omen, fascinated by the magical spectacle of lights oscillating with the wind. One of them approached our hero; he felt a gentle warmth spreading along his arm.
"Stop that !" yelled Romane when a member of the expedition chose to caress one of the luminous orbs, which slipped along his hand like a cat looking for a caress. The latter then complained:
"You worry too m
The pages of the tales of Amitrasudan [Unknown family name], Romane Landret, Bernardo Bonnici and Julie Pichet were then cremated.
SCP-213-FR-GAR,"The Guardian", is a single entity of unknown species, appearance and age. The rare tales mentioning this instance remain particularly unclear as to its specific nature or its actions.
However, it was confirmed that The Guardian was so named because of its central role in the story: indeed, SCP-213-FR-GAR is presented within the texts as the final peril, the creature having placed the exit from the Dark Forest (referred to as the "portal") under its protection.
The few archived testimonies of its existence (a little over 9.31% of the cases) invariably contain this description: "the snake of the wolves and the wolf of the snakes, a creature that appreciates, in many ways, the flesh of children".
Any protagonist or group of protagonists wishing to escape from SCP-213-FR must provide SCP-213-FR-GAR with a "sacrifice of flesh", of another SCP-213-FR-P, whether voluntary or not. The tales of the protagonists thus sacrificed disappear purely and simply from existence, as well as any archived version; the effect does not extend, however, to the memories of the individuals who came to be aware of the content of the tale, but will be repeated if an attempt, approximate or otherwise, to rewrite the text is made after the original disappearance.
The protagonists who obtained the right of passage see their tales end with this sentence: "[Name of the protagonist] had finally become a real hero", followed by the words "The End".
It is interesting to note that the protagonists whose death is due to a natural cause will also be the only ones whose tale will include this mention of "End", this time preceded by the phrase "[Name of the protagonist], to punish their failure, will be condemned to wander endlessly in the company of the other shameful ones of our story".
Documented deaths have included: death by infection, haemorrhage, lack of food or water, physical injury, poisoning.
Excerpt from Kamila Yoselin's tale, 11 year
Our heroine inspired deeply, gathering all her courage.
"Farewell." said the shaking voice of the figure standing before her.
And the sacrifice of the flesh jumped into the darkness of the abyss.
A cry rose from the bottom of the well, followed very quickly by a rumble of satisfaction, while the serpent of wolves and the wolf of serpents, a creature that appreciates, in many ways, the flesh of children, received a tribute equal to its needs.
The portal then opened, finally offering a resolution to this quest. With a broken face, the girl approached the exit, staggering so much she was shocked to know she was victorious, and to know the price of this victory.
Kamila Yoselin had finally become a real heroine.
Alejandro Yoselin's tale, 17 years, was then deleted from our archives and from SCP-213-FR.
Update 20/05/2017: Following the Ribera Incident, the description of SCP-213-FR has been updated.
SCP-213-FR is a very large bound manuscript, titled "The Fugitives of the Dark Forest: We have no more childhood", which the back cover characterises as "a book of philosophical and horrific reflection, to be read in order to be frightened".
It contains a total of five pages, each written in the form of a very short set of sentences referred to as "Dark Thought", with an illustration and the mention "The End" at the bottom of the page. Each of the Dark Thoughts is assigned to one of the endemic species of the Dark Forest, and to its complete and irremediable extinction. The texts are reproduced below:
The text opens with an illustration depicting a presumed trunk of SCP-213-FR-AR, cut down and slashed opened on the burnt soil, whose flesh oozes a glowing liquid and allows the charred corpses of various SCP-213-FR-MO to be seen.
In the fire and flames, the trunks of the Nourishing Trees cracked and whistled in pain, the heat boiling in their veins and roots the saving milk from which they watered the forest. Within them, the Harvesters were dying one by one.
And as the hell of men consumed their flesh, imaginary jaws carved in the bark, in chitin, feeding on the essence from which they had been deprived by the same beings that today they devoured without a state of mind, without regret.
And, finally satisfied, the Lost Lights got rid of their hunger, and left this perilous land that had seen them die.
The text opens with an illustration of a dead, charred instance of SCP-213-FR-NA, missing its head.
The Natives were horrified by the threat posed to their precious creations, and did everything possible to save the works of art from the terrible bite of flames, going as far as abandoning their dens and infants to the claws of death.
And as they fled into the woods to protect their possessions, millions of artists' hands seized them in their flight, and from these ugly bodies they drew the jewels of the spirit, offering one to the earth and the other to fire.
And finally soothed, the Lost Lights proudly contemplated their work, and left the hideous land that had deprived them from their beauty.
The text opens with an illustration depicting the manor house of SCP-213-FR-SCU, largely incinerated. The top floor has completely disappeared, only the structure of the first house remains. The ground floor looks charred and littered with debris although the walls remain intact.
When the flames came to lick her door, the Witch had to retreat where she knew that the intruder would not come for her. Leaving behind her flesh furniture, she went to safety.
And while she watched the fruit of a lifetime be reduced to ashes, hundreds of envelopes burst inside her home, freeing the souls of her creations from their gaol.
And finally free, the Lost Lights destroyed the smoking remnants of their prison of flesh, and left the deceitful earth that had chained them.
The fate of SCP-213-FR-SCU remains unknown.
The text opens with an illustration showing the interior of a cave, dimly lit by a light source outside the field. The ceiling and walls of the cave are covered with cave paintings depicting hands.
The Guardian, the snake of the wolves and the wolf of the snakes, a creature that appreciates, in many ways, the flesh of the children, was not worried by the crash of the flames and the lives that were dying, buried in the pit and silt that had seen him born.
But from the skies and from all sides, a multitude of weights came upon its flesh, the hundreds becoming thousands, millions, billions, like stars that could not be counted. Then the walls of the Guardian's den were lined with footprints, so many little childish hands, bathed in the blood of their work, which thus marked the end of their torments and their revenge accomplished.
And finally the Lost Lights were delivered from evil, and left this cursed earth that had made them suffer too much.
Then the Lost Lights finally came to find Their End
The text opens with an illustration of the Researcher Ribera, wearing her employee's blouse, sitting cross-legged on the charred ground facing the sunrise. Only her back is visible.
And when it was finally over, the Heroine finally bid farewell to the Lost Lights, and found herself alone.
She sat down cross-legged, her gaze empty, motionless, knowing full well that she had just dedicated herself to an eternal life of exile, of solitude, forgotten here among the still warm ashes of the horrors of our childhood.
But she did not mind.
And finally, with her conscience at ease, the Heroine closed her eyes and was able to breathe in full lung, filled with joy and serenity.
The Heroine, at last, had done what she had to do.
Ribera Incident: Course of action and consequences:
On Saturday, May 20,2017, Researcher Ribera, assigned to the project and known for regularly giving moral and ethical speeches about the existence of SCP-213-FR, was observed by surveillance cameras going into the containment space of SCP-213-FR. For some unknown reason, the surveillance system focused on the interior of the containment space then experienced a local malfunction. When the malfunction was corrected and a visual was restored, the Researcher Ribera had disappeared from the room in question; however, the outside cameras did not observe her leaving the room by the only exit available.
A few minutes after the alert was given at the Site-██ level, all the pages contained in SCP-213-FR began to emit a consistent heat and low intensity light. The anomalous event eventually resulted in the complete incineration of the contents of SCP-213-FR, which was reduced to ash without damaging the binder.
In the debris of the ancient tales were discovered five new pages, each entitled "Dark Thought" and dealing with the fate of the Dark Forest. It would seem that the latter was destroyed by a particularly virulent fire, of criminal origin, as the Researcher Ribera was no stranger to its outbreak.
Since the destruction of this object made it impossible to study it further, Researcher Ribera was submitted to a symbolic loss of office and the subsidies granted to her family in the event of an incident were reviewed. The measures for monitoring and access to inanimate SCP objects have also been modified to ensure that such an event does not recur, and psychological examination and maintenance will now be mandatory for all staff members who are morally reluctant to perform their duties.
It would be deplorable if a disaster of this magnitude were to reoccur. We are scientists and researchers, not philanthropists. Morality is not our primary goal. - O5-█
