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Individuals testing with SCP-8124 are to bring the following equipment: At least five days worth of rations.
A tent and sleeping bag.
Fire starting equipment.
A handgun with at least two additional magazines.
A high-caliber1 rifle.
Description: SCP-8124 is a pair of brown leather boots. There are no labels or marks to indicate a designer or date of creation. The size of SCP-8124 changes depending on the person who is wearing them, growing or shrinking to a size that is always difficult, but possible, to wear. Whether SCP-8124 is too large or too small appears to be random, but once an individual puts them on, they will be the same size every time they are worn by that individual.
SCP-8124's anomalous properties manifest when their wearer takes a step forward while the following criteria are met: The wearer is visualizing a location that they have seen before.2 The location that the wearer is visualizing is not being observed.3 The wearer is not being observed.
When these conditions are met, the wearer will be transported to an extradimensional space, hereby referred to as SCP-8124-1. The details of the dimension vary (see testing logs for more details), but there will always be hostile creatures and/or a threatening • • • • • 1.
2.
3.
environment that the wearer will need to get past by traveling a particular path. After reaching the end of this path, the wearer will leave SCP-8124-1 and appear at the location they visualized. This journey typically takes between two and four days within SCP-8124-1, however recent tests have managed to reduce this time to under 24 hours.
None of this time will be experienced outside of SCP-8124-1 and the wearer will seem to appear instantaneously at their destination.
While the creatures and environment within SCP-8124-1 appear dangerous, they pose no actual danger to the wearer. All injuries suffered within the space disappear upon leaving SCP-8124-1, and if the wearer suffers a life-threatening injury they will simply experience themselves returning to the location outside of SCP-8124-1 where they started. However, any supplies consumed or used while in SCP-8124-1 are not replenished, and should be replaced before reentering.
Addendum A-Testing Logs: Test subjects have proven unable to verbally describe their experiences in SCP-8124-1.
Therefore, post-testing interviews have been replaced with written debriefings.
Descriptions of SCP-8124-1 tend to be written in a style unlike the test subject's typical writing patterns, favoring emotional and literary language. Efforts to prevent anomalous manipulation of the testing logs are ongoing.
Testing Log-8124-1 Test Subject: Agent Wolf Destination: Site-32 I awoke in a storm. The water had already gotten into my lungs and I had to cough furiously to avoid drowning. I don't know how long I had been out, but any amount of time lying on the ground in this torrent could have been deadly. I would have considered myself lucky to be alive, but being alive meant I had to deal with this strange wasteland.
The grounds empty as far as I could see. It was pure mud, no plants, no animals. The ground felt like quicksand. It was as if this was a desert before the downpour started.
How long ago that was, I had no idea.
I picked a direction and walked. What else was I to do? There were no markers and no paths. There wasn't even wind to guide me. If the Ways of the World wanted me to end up in a particular location, that would be where I inevitably picked. The world was a bizarre constant. I only saw two sources of motion: the rain, and a looming shadow on the other side of the clouds. It came only in vague glimpses, but I knew it was no mere hallucination. It was circling overhead. Circling me. It followed along as I walked until sunset.
Setting up camp was a feat of its own. The way my feet started to sink when I stood in one place boded poorly for any attempts to sleep, but one way or another I needed to stop walking. The flameless heater in my meal was valuable, since I don't think there was any chance of getting a fire going in this weather. I can't say I slept that night, except in fits and stirs. There were times when I couldn't keep my eyes open, but those were interrupted by my animal instincts keeping me from sinking into the muck.
In the morning, the shadow was closer. I could just barely make out its shape. There was a main body, and curved wings on the side. Some sort of bird, but far larger than any I'd seen before. It wasn't doing anything to me, but I didn't like the idea that it was watching me from above. Nevertheless, I continued. Any attempts I made to keep track of which direction I was walking yesterday washed away in the rain, so once again I trusted the Powers That Be to guide me in the direction I needed to go.
Around noon that day I found a peculiar spot: a patch of red mud. I reached in, and felt something buried. It was a person, or perhaps the body of one. I carried them out and saw the wound on their arm. It was a cut, larger than most those made by human weapons, and much more grisly. It wasn't bleeding, but that was only because of the filth that was covering it. I would have recoiled in disgust if I could afford to. But this was not the time for reactions like that. If this person was still alive, I had to make sure they stayed that way. I had my first aid kit, and it did as much as it could, but they seemed like a lost cause.
"…who are you?" A miracle occurred. They were weak, and they were tired, but they were alive.
"Just someone passing through. And you?" "I guess I'm passing through too." They looked at their arm, "Just, maybe not the same way." "Don't talk like that. It doesn't help anything. I'll get you out of this storm." I picked them up on my shoulder. The extra weight caused me to sink a few more inches into the mud.
"You shouldn't waste your strength on me, I'll just slow you down." "I don't know where I'm going, so how can I get there any slower?" It wasn't entirely true, I looked up at the shadow that was still circling over us. I was hoping to get away from that thing, and with this person on my back, that was a lost cause. But I couldn't let them know that.
"Fine. It's not like I can fight you about it." They resigned themself to being saved.
The rest of the day felt like a week. I tried to start a conversation to distract myself from my muscles burning.
"How did you get hurt?" "I don't know." "Where are you from?" "I don't know." "How did you get here?" "I don't know." I started looking for anything they did know. Something basic.
"What's your name?" "I'm a traveller." Not an answer to my question, but at least it was an answer to something.
"Oh? Where have you travelled?" "Anywhere that'll have me." "Is that a lot of places?" "Not anymore." I gave out a slight laugh before realizing that that wasn't a joke.
"What did you do?" "Nothing, but everything changed around me. The world isn't for me anymore." I didn't know what to say to that. They looked young, but maybe that was deceptive. Or maybe wherever they were from changed quickly. It didn't matter in the end. It's not like I could give them any advice. My life was probably just as messed up as theirs.
The second night was worse than the first. I had to make sure my new traveling companion made it. Giving medical attention in the pouring rain is bad enough. Giving it in the dark is even worse. I truly got no sleep that night. Not even the short bursts of the night before.
"Hey," my companion said, just as groggy as me, "Why did you bring me with you?" "What else would I do? I'm not a monster." "Doesn't mean you have to be an idiot though. I can see the toll this is taking on you." "That's all temporary, it doesn't matter. I promise you, we're getting out of this together." "Don't make promises you can't keep." Neither of us were happy with that.
In the morning I dreaded the day ahead, but I dreaded looking up even more. The thing that had been circling wasn't a shadow anymore. It had come through the clouds in the form of a giant white bird. It was an albatross, I think. But it looked large enough that its beak could swallow my arm. That's when I looked at the arm of my friend. One large messy scratch down it. I understood where it came from. Looking up to the monster, something felt wrong, but that didn't stop me.
I aimed my gun, and it died.
Testing Log-8124-2 Test Subject: Agent Yates Destination: Testing Area 24-B My hands were already at the wheel of a mighty ship. I steered it through the waves with a grace that was all too familiar. My crew was beside me, ready for the moment I gave the word. They were starting to get antsy after all this time at sea. It had taken weeks of dealing with all the dangers of the open ocean: fish large enough to swallow the ship whole, rocky passages that threatened to splinter our sides, and the constant threat of our food stores running low. But we were so close to our goal.
There was a shout from above; the scout had seen something. Finally, the long-lost island would make itself shown. And with it, the treasure we'd been seeking. I had to admit that I would be a little disappointed once we actually had it. The journey had been hard, yes, but traveling with this crew was its own reward. Once our job was done, we would have no reason to stick together, and only the Fates knew if we would ever see each other again.
"What are you thinking about captain?" My first mate, the closest companion on this journey, seemed to notice my absentminded daydreaming.
"Oh, nothing. Just how I'll spend my share of the treasure." I wasn't about to admit any of the sappier things.
"Well you should wait till we actually get it. You never know what could happen." They weren't wrong, but I couldn't help but get ahead of myself. The island was finally within sight. The cave that all the legends spoke of was in the center, with the telltale trees around it. Three: one old, one new, and one yet to grow. When we were close enough to disembark, I gathered a team of some of my bravest fighters and most loyal crew mates, there was no telling what dangers would await us on that island, but we were prepared for anything.
The cave system was longer than we expected, with far more twists and turns. It seemed as if we had walked in our own footsteps too many times to count. We trusted in the Voice of the Path to guide us, but that voice was muddled. After many hours, we started to feel weak and decided our strength ought to be replenished with a meal.
Luckily, I had brought along a great deal of food.
"You're always so prepared," said my first mate, "I can't say I'm familiar with this type of ration. Where did you find it?" I had an answer to that question, but I'm not sure they would believe it. Honestly, I'm not sure if I believed it.
"Just something I whipped up with the supplies below deck." Lying to them would be a little less uncomfortable if they didn't trust me as much. As is, I felt I was betraying them.
"You have a real gift for this. Mind showing me a thing or two after this all's done?" I didn't want to make any promises, so I just said, "I'll see what I can do." When we were done eating, we moved with a newfound vigor. Finding the ending to the cave became no problem to us. It was as if it had been sitting in the corner, waiting for us to almost give up, then it sprung out to greet us. I didn't complain, I'm not sure I would be able to handle another few hours of walking through the same tunnels.
The cave was a wonderful sight, with a waterfall cascading off the far wall into an underground lake. A portion of rock was jutting out into the center of the lake. On the rock was a statue seemingly carved from coral with a spear in its hand. Something about this spear told us it was what we had been looking for all this time. It was carved from the bone of some large creature, with runes engraved down the side of it in colorful sea glass. The tip was some gemstone that I had yet to encounter before that moment and have never encountered since. As if pushed, I found myself in front of the statue, holding the spear in my hands.
That was when a great crash came from the water. It was a massive nautilus, with each of its tendrils longer than a human being. It had been dwelling in this lake, waiting for someone to take its spear, and I was that foolish someone. It lashed out towards me, and I winced in preparation, only to feel no impact. When I opened my eyes I saw it had grabbed my first mate. they had jumped in front of me. I could hear their ribs cracking as they were held in the strange grip of this creature. I looked at the spear, and at the beast. I knew what had to happen, but I had no experience with a weapon like this. So I used what I knew.
I aimed my gun, and it died.
Testing Log-8124-4 Test Subject: Agent Norris Destination: Testing Area 10-A I entered SCP-8124-1 in what appeared to be a temperate forest. There was a small stream flowing to the northeast, and a figure standing beside it. The outfit and appearance of the figure is difficult to describe, but they were filling the role of a wilderness guide. I followed the stream, but did not speak with them.
At the end of the stream, there was a grotto with multiple types of mushrooms. None of the mushrooms matched any species I was familiar with, but they appeared to comprise three species: one black, one gold, and one purple. I did not attempt to tamper with any of them, as I did not know if they were toxic.
The guide had followed me. They explained some traits of the mushrooms, primarily their age and seasonal growth patterns. I asked if there were any dangerous creatures around here. They stated that sometimes large insects nest under the mushrooms and prey on travelers. I dug up the ground beneath one, and a beetle crawled out. It was approximately the size of my torso, with pincers as long as my arm.
I aimed my gun, and it died.
Testing Log-8124-7 Test Subject: Agent Gardner Destination: Site-15 There was a desert. There was an oasis. There was a starved figure in the oasis. I did not interact with them. I spent ten minutes inspecting the plant life. Nothing was identifiable. I left the oasis. There was a serpent that resembled Crotalus cerastes.4 It hissed at me.
I aimed my gun, and it died.
Testing Log-8124-12 Test Subject: Agent Hill Destination: Site-26 Terrain: Desert Path: Southerly wind Threat: Unidentified mammal Conclusion: I aimed my gun, and it died.
Incident Report-8124-1 Forward: During a mundane test of SCP-8124, the anomalous properties failed to activate, and the SCP instead tightened around the feet of Agent Brown enough to cause serious injury. She collapsed on the ground and Head Researcher Garcia and Agent Yates entered the testing chamber.
<Begin Log> Garcia: Agent Brown, are you okay?
Yates: She's not responding.
Garcia: Can you hear me? Yates, get those things off of her.
Yates: I'm trying, but it's like they're fused to her skin.
Garcia: Do what you have to. There's no telling what will happen if she's left like this.
[Agent Brown begins to stir.] Garcia: Brown! Can you understand me?
Brown: When the town crier announces news to the curious people, he needn't ask for confirmation. However, when a peasant beseeches his lord, he waits for the master's words with bated breath. Tragic is the day when the fool wears the crown.
Garcia: Pardon?
Brown: There once was a child who longed to see the world, but every road they walked down led back to their house. This left them feeling hopeless, as to repeat oneself is chillingly dull.
Yates: Has she gone insane?
Garcia: Quiet. [To Agent Brown.] Who am I speaking with right now?
Brown: A cobbler's final deed, immortalized in the skin of an unwitting ally. The tools of whom's creation have been scattered north, east, south, and west, waiting to be collected. Welcome, almighty curator, take a seat.
Garcia: I think I'll stand. Why have you taken this person hostage?
Brown: The hound had grown lean and feral from its abuse. It longed for meat that its owner had once given it, but it knew they were deaf to its cries. So it wrapped itself around the child they valued so dearly, and snarled.
Garcia: [To himself.] Dog… Child… [To Agent Brown.] I'm not certain I follow.
Yates: I'm sure I don't.
Brown: When the bishop's procession and the king's parade meet, the soldier is to step aside and let them pass.
Garcia: Soldier. I think that's you, Yates.
Yates: What, so she's telling me to go away?
Garcia: I think it just means she'd rather you be quiet. Stay on guard.
Brown: The tyrant's forces had laid siege to an innocent town, yet when a poor old beggar threw sticks and stones they called them a threat.
Garcia: Tyrant? Is that what you think of me?
Brown: Paper cannot think, but it can remember. It was not the same pen that wrote upon the book all those years ago, but it was of the same make.
Garcia: I feel if I continue with this line of questioning, it will only get more confusing. I presume you have demands, would you mind telling us what they are?
Brown: The poet settled down to their nightly campfire and invited travelers to sit beside them. Each one came with their own tale to tell. Each one more magnificent than the last. That was until the scholar came. The first night the scholar spoke of the nature of the world and offered the poet knowledge they had never before considered. But the scholar's wisdom was limited. The second and third nights they came and offered the same words, yet still took the poet's hospitality. The repetition was enough to drive the poet mad.
Garcia: I see. This poet, why did they not simply put out their fire?
Brown: The explorer was bitten by the smallest of all the insects in the jungle, but the weakest ones carry the strongest venom. They were told by their doctor they would be dead within the week and that they should rest. They could not see the purpose in spending their last week avoiding their life's purpose, so they continued through the jungle.
Garcia: You're not keen on sticking to one metaphor, are you?
Brown: The winds do not stay in one place, it is not in their nature. If a hurricane were to stay still, who can say what havoc it would bring?
Garcia: I suppose I shouldn't have expected any better. What do you actually want us to do?
Brown: Stagnant wind blows from a stripped mine. Greedy men have already taken every rock and used it to create their weapons of war.
Garcia: Still a problem, not a solution.
Brown: The artist needed more than paint to create their masterpiece. They needed a canvas. They needed a muse. But most important, they needed the right atmosphere. If they feared a fool would come in and spill their colorful pot, how could they make what they must?
Garcia: I believe I understand. If you free our agent, I can fix your problem.
Brown: It is the nature of the world that every person must be themself, and a traitor cannot be a traitor until they are trusted. Far be it from me to defy nature.
[Agent Brown collapses.] Yates: What was that about?
Garcia: You should be able to retrieve the SCP now. Do so.
<End Log> Conclusion: After this incident, SCP-8124 was removed from Agent Brown's feet and returned to its container. Agent Brown does not appear to have any recollection of her actions during this incident. By order of Head Researcher Garcia, testing on SCP-8124 is not to be performed until further notice.
‡ Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8124" by Fireknight, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/ scp-8124. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide.
Filename: Boots.jpeg Name: Boots MET 11.60.202ab F Author: Metropolitan Museum of Art License: CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ File:Boots_MET_11.60.202ab_F.jpg Footnotes 1. At least .50.
2. This includes photographs, but not secondary descriptions.
3. This includes individuals, cameras, microphones, pressure sensors, and anomalous tracking tools.
4. Rattlesnake.
clothingcompulsionextradimensionalnarrativesafescpspatial page revision: 7, last edited: 17 Jan 2025 15:27 Edit Rate (+28) Tags Discuss (4) History Files Print Site tools + Options Edit Sections Append Edit Meta Watchers Backlinks Page Source Parent Lock Page Rename Delete Help  | Terms of Service  | Privacy  | Report a bug  | Flag as objectionable Powered by Wikidot.com Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License Click here to edit contents of this page.
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