The house containing SCP-XXXX.
| Assigned Site | Site Director | Research Head | Assigned Task Force |
| N/A | N/A | N/A | N/A |
SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES
Entrances to SCP-XXXX should be sealed and a chain-link fence installed around the property. Agents posing as employees from Foundation front company Samson & Clarke Properties are to monitor the house and detain any civilians attempting to enter the property.
DESCRIPTION
SCP-XXXX manifests as a hallway of indeterminate length, with white wooden doors on either side of the corridor. Approximately 87% of these doors are locked. Each unlocked door leads to separate rooms with frequently changing interiors. However, there are a few commonalities in each room being that the rooms are unlit, and furnished similarly to the rest of the house. The interior of SCP-XXXX is completely unlit, and furnished similarly to the rest of the house.
To this date, no records of the property's ownership or the house's construction have been found.
ADDENDUM XXXX-1 — DISCOVERY
On 2001/06/11, the Department of Global Surveillance intercepted a text message sent from an unused phone number to another unused phone number. Both numbers' area code suggested that they were from Michigan, specifically the Mnemosyne area. The message consisted of a video, recorded on a cell phone camera.
Transcript of Recovered Video Evidence
[BEGIN LOG]
[Visible on the video is a bald man's face, taken from a low angle. The face it lit by a dim light, presumably from the cell phone camera. The surroundings are entirely dark. The man speaks in a low tone.]
UNKNOWN: Peter Reginald. Forty-eight. Born on March 13, 1953. [Pauses.] I'm stuck. I'm stuck.
[The camera turns to face a long, dark hallway.]
[Heavy breathing.]
UNKNOWN: Peter Reginald. Forty-eight. Born on— on March 13, 1954. No— 53. Shit. Whoever you are, I'm stuck in here. This— this hallway. Please. Help me. Or send someone. Just— something, anything.
[Pause.]
UNKNOWN: Please.
[Continued heavy breathing.]
UNKNOWN: Peter— Peter Reginald. Forty-eight. March 13, 1953.
[continued heavy breathing.]
UNKNOWN: I'm stuck. I— fuck. I don't even know who you are. There's numbers in my contacts list and I don't know any of them. There's photos in my phone of people— people I don't even know.
[Pause.]
UNKNOWN: Whose phone is this?
[END LOG]
Two years later, on 2003/05/06, agents embedded in the Mnemosyne Police Department alerted the Foundation of a cold case involving two missing teenagers. Though the police report had been filed nearly three months ago, no birth certificates, school attendance records, or other public evidence of the teenagers' existence could be found. The identity of the police officer who filed the report was also unknown. The report notes that they were last spotted by civilians entering the house containing SCP-XXXX.
ADDENDUM XXXX-2 — EXPLORATION LOG
The following transcript was discovered in the SCP-XXXX file directory on 02/05/2005. Metadata on the file suggests that it was uploaded to SCiPNet servers on 2005/12/01 by user AGraves03. No records of such a user exist, however, APPKE1 encoding information shows that the file was properly keyed and coded using a valid Foundation-issued token.
Exploration Log 01 (D-55159)
[BEGIN LOG]
GRAVES: D-55159, can you hear me?
D-55159: I— uh, yeah.
GRAVES: Good. Please make your way into the hallway.
D-55159: Yeah, yeah.
[D-55159 enters SCP-XXXX. The interior is incredibly dark and indistinct.]
D-55159: Can't see shit in here.
GRAVES: There should be a flashlight in your backpack.
D-55159: Oh, ok. [Sounds of a zipper opening and closing.] Found it.
[D-55159 turns on the flashlight. The interior of SCP-XXXX is now easily discernible. The floor is beige and carpeted, similar to the rest of the house. Along the walls of the hallway are hundreds of white wooden doors, all closed. The anomaly has no visible end in sight. It is completely quiet.]
Camera still, showing the interior of SCP-XXXX.
D-55159: Wha— this is fuckin' creepy.
GRAVES: D-55159, can you try to open one of the doors?
[D-55159 attempts to open the door closest to himself, on the left. It does not open.]
D-55159: Locked.
GRAVES: What about the one to your right?
[D-55159 wiggles the door handle on the next door.]
D-55159: Also locked.
GRAVES: Okay. Make your way down the hallway and see if you can get any of the doors open.
D-55159: It's a little chilly in here.
[A quiet snapping noise is heard behind D-55159. Neither D-55159 nor GRAVES take notice.]
GRAVES: There's a jacket in the pack if you need it.
D-55159: No, no, I'm alright. Just noticing.
[Extraneous logs removed.]
D-55159: Shit. Hey. Uh, Doctor…
GRAVES: Graves.
D-55159: Graves. The door opened.
[D-55159 turns the doorknob and opens the door. The room inside has a low ceiling and is extremely long. A long table stands in the center of the room and is covered in a number of dishes of food. Visible under the flashlight beam is a large rotisserie chicken and a bowl of moldy peas.]
D-55159: Guess I won't have to worry about food, huh.
GRAVES: Take some samples of the food.
[D-55159 approaches one of the dishes on the table to take a sample. The dish is comprised entirely of a black tar-like substance. D-55159 opens his backpack and takes a sample of the black substance. He continues down the table and takes samples of several other plates of "food", including a bowl full of rocks, a severed human hand on a plate, and a partially-burned book, presented on a large gleaming platter.]
GRAVES: What's it about?
[D-55159 gingerly picks up the book.]
D-55159: Uh… something, something of the Lakes of Mnemosyne. I don't know, it's burnt— charred off.
GRAVES: What's inside?
D-55159: [D-55159 opens the book.] It, it's… blurry.
GRAVES: What do you mean?
D-55159: I can't see it. It's like the words are just… out of focus.
GRAVES: Bag it.
[D-55159 places the book in a plastic bag and stows it in his backpack. He makes his way back to the door and continues down the hallway.]
[Silence. D-55159 continues down the hallway, checking doors as he walks.]
GRAVES: It's been two hours. Do you want to take a break?
D-55159: Yes please.
[D-55159 sits down on the floor.]
D-55159: The, uh, small zipper on the backpack is gone.
GRAVES: Did the slider come off?
D-55159: No— the entire zipper just… disappeared. There's just fabric.
GRAVES: Are you sure there was a zipper there before?
D-55159: Yeah, I swear it was there before. It’s like if I forget about something for too long, it just gets… eaten up.
GRAVES: Alright, noted. Can you still get into the backpack?
D-55159: Yeah, yeah.
[D-55159 opens his backpack and pulls out a granola bar.]
[Sounds of chewing. A sound similar to glass cracking is audible in the background. Neither D-55159 nor GRAVES take notice.]
D-55159: Y'know, this place kinda reminds me of the place I grew up in. Well, the third place I grew up in. Minus the endless hallway and all the darkness. And it had green walls.
GRAVES: Third place you grew up in?
D-55159: Yeah, third. [REDACTED], Erebus Lane, [REDACTED].2 Funny name, huh? "Erebus". That place was pretty nice, all things considered. And that family wasn't half bad, either. What about you?
GRAVES: I'm not sure I'm permitted—
D-55159: [Interrupting.] Come on, you said it yourself. We've been here for two hours already. With all due respect, loosen up a little!
GRAVES: Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right. [Pauses.] I think I got lucky. With the whole childhood thing, you know? Loving parents, stable household, nice school. Hell, I even got along with my sister.
D-55159: Really?
GRAVES: Well, mostly. What about you?
D-55159: Never liked my brother. Always winning trophies, being nominated for this or that. The favorite. Some of the families just said it bluntly, but even the ones who claimed to not have a favorite… well, you could tell from their eyes. [Chewing.] I don't know. I guess it wasn't his fault.
GRAVES: Do you still know him?
D-55159: I— not really. He lives in Wisconsin now, I think. He's a professor at whatever whatever technical college or some shit. "Professor Terrence Mallow". [Pauses.] What about yours?
GRAVES: Funny you ask, she works here actually.
D-55159: What, you two run this together?
GRAVES: [Laughs.] No, she works for the Foundation. Task force or something.
[D-55159 finishes eating his granola bar and continues down the hallway. Extraneous logs removed.]
[A thudding sound is audible in the background. This time, D-55159 notices.]
D-55159: Shit! What was that?
GRAVES: Unsure. Proceed with caution.
D-55159: Yeah.
[An hour passes as D-55159 unsuccessfully continues to attempt to open doors.]
D-55159: You know what I noticed?
GRAVES: What?
[A quiet snapping sound is heard in the background. Neither D-55159 nor GRAVES notice.]
D-55159: The doors. I never closed any of them. But look— [D-55159 turns the camera back towards the direction he came in from.] all closed.
GRAVES: Good eye, noted.
D-55159: I— thanks.
[No more sounds are detected. Finally, after three hours, D-55159 approaches an unlocked door. He turns the doorknob and slowly pushes the door open.]
D-55159: Hey, uh, Graves?
GRAVES: [Startled.] Oh, shit, I fell asleep— go ahead D-55159.
D-55159: There's— there's another room.
[D-55159 enters the room and shines their flashlight inside. The room is massive with the exact metrics of the room unknown. The ceiling is tall and vaulted, and the space is bathed in a dim red light coming from a large, circular window on the far end of the room. Along the walls of the room are hundreds of pieces of furniture and boxes stacked up to the ceiling.]
D-55159: Holy shit. It looks like… a church, almost. Whose— whose stuff do you think this is?
GRAVES: I don’t know.
D-55159: Everything here looks… used. There’s marks on all the furniture. It’s like someone used to own this stuff and then it just got… sucked up.
[Silence.]
GRAVES: Check if there's anything in the furniture over there.
D-55159: Okay. [Pauses.] Huh. It's even colder in here. It's like a giant freezer.
GRAVES: Noted.
[D-55159 approaches the stack of furniture closest to him. It is constructed of a bookshelf stacked on top of three chairs, with a large leather recliner on top of the bookshelf.]
D-55159: It's… just normal furniture. There's like an inch of dust on it, though.
GRAVES: Are there any labels on them? Tags?
[D-55159 crouches underneath one of the chairs and points his flashlight at a small white tag on the chair.]
D-55159: [REDACTED] Home Products, based in… Sydney.3
GRAVES: Noted. What about the bookshelf? Is there anything on it?
D-55159: I don't think I can reach it.
GRAVES: Hmm. Can you try climbing up?
D-55159: I… sure.
[D-55159 attempts to climb the stack of chairs. He grabs a chair just above his head and hoists himself up.]
D-55159: You know, this place has got like a weird aura, you know what I mean?
GRAVES: Elaborate.
D-55159: It feels like someone died in here. I don’t know.
[Silence. D-55159 continues to climb.]
D-55159: It feels almost like a museum. No, a graveyard.
GRAVES: What makes you say that?
D-55159: Not sure. But where do you think all this stuff came from?
GRAVES: Nobody knows. It’s an anomaly, plain and simple.
D-55159: I’m… not so sure.
[D-55159 reaches the top of the tower of chairs, and peers into the bookshelf, unstrapping his camera from his chest and lifting it up. The bookshelf is not filled with books; instead, it is filled with what appear to be children's toys and silverware. Visible under the flashlight's beam, a stuffed toy of an unknown animal, a piece of climbing equipment, a wooden ball, and a shattered plate can be seen.]
D-55159: Can— can you see that?
GRAVES: Yeah, yeah, that's perfect.
D-55159: It's all just… household stuff.
GRAVES: Take a sample of one of the toys.
D-55159: Let me— [D-55159 balances himself on one of the chairs.] —there we go.
[D-55159 opens his backpack and pulls out a sample pouch. He pulls a snow globe off the shelf and places it into the pouch. The snow globe depicts a snowy town, with the words "Hellbourne, MI" emblazoned in red on the side.4]
GRAVES: This might be stretching it, but are you able to reach the upper shelf?
D-55159: I— sure, I can try.
[D-55159 reaches up and grabs the top shelf of the bookshelf, and hoists himself up to the top of the stack of chairs.]
[D-55159 shines the flashlight up at the upper shelf and sticks the camera into it. Visible on the shelf are dozens of stacks of paper, neatly stacked and organized. D-55159 pulls a piece of paper off the top of a stack.]
D-55159: Paper. It looks printed. Uh, [Points flashlight at paper.] "Title Deed [REDACTED], Mnemosyne, MI."
[D-55159 pulls another piece of paper off the stack.]
D-55159: "Grandma Lonnie's Recipe for Par"— "Parprips"?
GRAVES: Can you spell it out?
D-55159: P-a-r-p-r-i-p-s. Parprips.
GRAVES: Never heard of it. Bag it.
D-55159: You got it.
[D-55159 places the piece of paper into a small baggie and stows it away in his backpack.]
GRAVES: Can you see anything else?
D-55159: Not really.
GRAVES: Alright. [Pauses.] It's getting late, I'd suggest you find a place to make camp.
D-55159: Thank god. I'm hungry.
[D-55159 slowly begins to climb down the stack of chairs. The camera suddenly slips down.]
D-55159: [Sudden intake of breath.] Ouch. Shit.
GRAVES: D-55159, are you okay?
D-55159: Damn. Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just a sprain.
GRAVES: Do you need to—
D-55159: No, no, don't worry. [Laughs.] It's been here for years. Never healed.
GRAVES: Damn, how'd you get it?
D-55159: They had me doing a test back at the site. My first test, actually.
GRAVES: Damn. How long ago was that?
D-55159: Like… Jesus, it's been a decade, hasn't it? [Pauses.] I've been with you guys for quite a while.
GRAVES: You've been here longer than I have.
D-55159: I— [Sighs.] God, it was 12, 13 years ago? I— [Screams.]
[D-55159 falls backwards off the stack of chairs, landing with a loud thump on the carpet.]
D-55159: Auugh! Fuck!
GRAVES: Jesus Christ, you okay?
D-55159: [Panting.] Yeah, yeah, oh fuck, yeah. I— yeah, I'm alright.
GRAVES: Christ, can you still walk?
[D-55159 grunts as he attempts to stand up.]
D-55159: I— I think so.
GRAVES: Let's just find a place to sleep.
[D-55159 limps out of the room back into the hallway.]
D-55159: Fuck, I'm tired—
[D-55159 suddenly stops and turns around as a thump can be heard behind him. In the distance, a door can be seen opening and slamming shut.]
GRAVES: What was that?
[D-55159 dims his flashlight and quietly begins walking towards the source of the sound. He approaches the door.]
D-55159: [Whispering.] In here.
[D-55159 attempts to turn the door handle. It opens.]
D-55159: I swear to god this was locked before. Shit, this is fucked. Graves?
GRAVES: Stay calm. You've got a knife in the bag.
[D-55159 opens his backpack and searches for the knife.]
D-55159: It— it's not in here.
GRAVES: What do you mean? We triple-checked back at base.
D-55159: There's nothing here.
GRAVES: Check the top pocket.
D-55159: [Sounds of fabric shifting.] Nope. Nothing. It's gone. [Pauses.] I have this metal water bottle.
GRAVES: Yeah, use that.
[D-55159 raises the bottle above his head and slowly opens the door.]
D-55159: It's so dark in here. It's— even darker than the rest of this place.
GRAVES: Noted.
[D-55159 shines his flashlight into the room. The walls inside are pitch black, and the interior is incredibly dark. In the room is a desk and a chair. In the chair is a human figure, sitting up.]
D-55159: It's a… shit, it's a person.
GRAVES: Are they alive?
D-55159: No, no.
[D-55159 walks towards the chair and turns to face the figure in the chair. It is female, seemingly in their late twenties. They are wearing a tactical uniform emblazoned with the Foundation logo. The name "SIERRA GRAVES" can be seen written on the front of the uniform. They are unblinking and unmoving.]
GRAVES: [Screams.] Sierra?! Oh, oh god. Is it her? Is she alive?
[D-55159 places his fingers on her wrist.]
D-55159: I— I don't know. She's cold.
GRAVES: Oh, oh fuck. No, that can't be her. That— that can't be—
D-55159: It's just the anomaly. It— it's just the anomaly. Don't worry.
GRAVES: You— you're right.
D-55159: She's at the site, remember. She's okay.
GRAVES: Yeah, yeah, no. You— you're right. Thank you.
D-55159: It— fuck, it's just staring at me.
GRAVES: Um— D-55159, check, check the desk.
D-55159: Yeah. Whatever you say.
[The camera points at the desk. Under the light of the flashlight, a large steaming plate of casserole is visible.]
D-55159: Food. It's a casserole.
GRAVES: Take a sample.
D-55159: Yeah, yeah. [Pauses.] You know, it smells like something my mom used to make. Well, one of— you know what I mean.
[D-55159 moves the flashlight closer to the dish to take a sample.]
D-55159: Huh. That's the same casserole dish she used to use as well. Odd. [Sounds of fabric.] Hey. The other samples are gone.
GRAVES: Did it fall out?
D-55159: No, there's no holes or anything.
GRAVES: Interesting. Noted. Is there anything else you can find?
D-55159: There's… hey, a knife!
[D-55159's camera pans toward a knife on the table. It is identical in appearance to the Foundation-issue knife given to D-55159 at the beginning of the exploration.]
GRAVES: Shit, that's where the knife went.
D-55159: What the hell? Do you think it's still safe to— to use it?
GRAVES: [Pauses.] Yes, I think it's okay.
[D-55159 takes the knife and places it in his backpack.]
D-55159: Thanks. That— I feel a little safer.
GRAVES: Good. Is— is there anything in the drawers?
[D-55159 checks each of the drawers, one by one. In the bottommost door, a small vial containing a brown liquid can be seen. However, neither D-55159 nor GRAVES notice it.]
D-55159: No, I don't think so.
GRAVES: Alright. It's getting late, I'd suggest you make camp here.
[Extraneous logs removed.]
[D-55159 opens his backpack and takes out a sleeping bag and a pack of rations. He unrolls the sleeping bag in the corner of the room. Additionally, he takes out a lantern and a can opener from the bag before closing it.]
D-55159: Hey, there's only rations in here for a single day.
GRAVES: I swear we packed enough for a month, at least.
D-55159: The fuck? Where'd it—
[D-55159 starts.]
D-55159: Wait. Hold on. What's that?
[D-55159 turns the camera towards the corner of the room. There, a tall, wooden door can be seen. A black metal mailbox is attached to the wall next to the door.]
GRAVES: That wasn't there earlier, was it?
D-55159: [Quietly.] No, I don't think it was.
[D-55159 steps towards the door.]
D-55159: Shit.
GRAVES: D-55159, be careful—
D-55159: It smells familiar.
GRAVES: Familiar?
D-55159: I— I can't place it. No, no, it's eerie. It— it's like it knows me.
GRAVES: What do you mean? It "knows" you?
D-55159: I don't know why— I, I can't do it.
GRAVES: D-55159. Take a breath.
[D-55159 quickly inhales and exhales. His camera feed is visibly shaking.]
GRAVES: A deep breath.
[D-55159 takes a long breath. The camera stabilizes.]
GRAVES: You can do this.
D-55159: I—
GRAVES: You can do it. Open the door.
[D-55159 places a hand on the doorknob and opens the door. He points his flashlight inside. On the other side of the door is a what appears to be a small kitchen, with wood-paneled flooring and green walls. Like the rest of the anomaly, the room is completely dark.
D-55159: I know this. I know this.
GRAVES: You know this? What do you mean?
D-55159: I've been here before.
[The camera pans to the side of the kitchen, where another room is visible beyond the doorframe. D-55159 approaches the other room.]
D-55159: I lived here.
GRAVES: D-55159? Are you okay?
[Under the flashlight beam, the other room is now fully visible. It is small and carpeted, with a couch against the wall. On the other side of the room is a cabinet, with a 1950s era television on top of it.]
GRAVES: Does the TV work?
[D-55159 turns on the TV. It begins to play static.]
GRAVES: Huh. I guess not.
[Silence. D-55159 does not move.]
GRAVES: D-55159?
[Silence.]
GRAVES: D-55159?
D-55159: Whose house do you think this is?
GRAVES: I— I don't know. Nobody's.
D-55159: I think I know what—
[D-55159 abruptly stops speaking and turns around. Loud footsteps can be heard in the other room. He tiptoes towards the doorway to the kitchen.]
GRAVES: What—
[A dark indistinct figure can be seen in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. The figure has dark hair and glasses.]
D-55159: Terrence? What are you—
[The figure begins to run out of the room. As the camera turns to face the figure, it can be spotted leaving the kitchen and running into the hallway. D-55159 begins to follow the figure, eventually breaking into a sprint.]
GRAVES: Stop! This isn't safe!
[D-55159 does not respond, and follows the figure down the hallway.]
GRAVES: Can you hear me? Stop running!
[D-55159 continues to run down the hallway. The figure can be seen opening a door in the distance. As D-55159 follows, the door closes.]
D-55159: It was this one, it was this one, right?
GRAVES: D-55157— 55159, please don't do—
D-55159: It was this one, I know it!
[D-55159 tries to open the door but it is locked. He steps back and kicks it hard with the heel of his shoe and it opens.]
GRAVES: Be careful, this is—
D-55159: I know what this is. [Heavy breathing.]
[He walks into the room. It is small and empty. The ceiling is low. D-55159 shuts the door behind him and collapses into a corner.]
GRAVES: D-55159? Can you hear me?
D-55159: I think I know what this is. Yeah. It's everything.
GRAVES: What? Please, calm—
D-55159: No, no, you're not getting it. I know why those rooms seemed familiar. It was mine.
[Heavy breathing.]
D-55159: It's eating everything up. Don't you understand? Everything.
GRAVES: Please, calm down and explain—
D-55159: I am explaining! I don't exist anymore. Your sister doesn't exist. Soon you won't either. It eats its up and eats it up and then—
GRAVES: What eats it up? Please, I'm trying to understand—
D-55159: The hallway! This is all that ever was. This is all that ever will be. [Heavy breathing. Whimpering.] There's no gods. There's no monsters.
[Quiet sobbing.]
D-55159: It's just the hallway. That's all it ever was.
[Silence.]
D-55159: That's all it's ever been.
[Silence.]
[Suddenly, the silence is broken by a loud rap on the door. D-55159 stands up and approaches the door.]
GRAVES: D-55159, please be careful—
[He opens the door. There, standing in front of him is a man, identical in appearance to D-55159, wearing a backpack and holding a camera. They speak in unison.]
D-55159 & UNKNOWN: You know where to find me.
[The camera cuts out.]
[END LOG]
No records of a "D-55159" exist in Foundation records. No records of a "Dr. Graves" has been found to be involved in the SCP-XXXX project. No records of an agent named "Sierra Graves" exist in Foundation records. No evidence of a "Terrence Mallow" teaching in a college in Wisconsin has been found.
Directly after the uploading of the following file, multiple references were found within Foundation databases to non-existent sites. The cause of this is under investigation.
The Department of Eschatological Studies is currently determining the significance of SCP-XXXX.