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Special Containment Procedures: The town of Fenton, Indiana is to be unincorporated. Motor and foot traffic around the town is to be redirected. Perimeter A1- L4 is to be established and maintained around the town by ATF Kappa-8894 (“Fall Forever”).
Personnel stationed around SCP-8894 are to be measured for height deviations biweekly. Sinkholes within and surrounding Fenton are to be cordoned off immediately.
Personnel are advised to take great care so as to not fall in.
Description: SCP-8894 is the designation for the soil in the region of and surrounding Fenton, Indiana. As of writing, SCP-8894 possesses a number of poorly documented anomalous effects, including but not limited to: locomotion (confirmed); transformation of organic matter (confirmed); vocalization (confirmed); formation of spatial anomalies (according to eyewitness accounts); physical manipulation of matter (according to eyewitness accounts); levitation (according to eyewitness accounts).
SCP-8894's primary activity is the formation of sinkholes throughout the town of Fenton.
These sinkholes have been found to be hostile towards human life and may possess a limited degree of sentience. Voices have been heard emanating from these sinkholes. It is currently unclear the number of SCP-8894's total victims– to date, only one body has been recovered (see Addendum 8894-4).
Anomalous activity is sparse and inconsistent. Specimens separated from Fenton display little to no activity. The residents of Fenton are aware of SCP-8894’s existence, however, discussion of the subject is considered taboo by most individuals.
SCP-8894 is primarily involved with a series of anomalous events that occurred in Fenton during August of 2002.
Addendum 8894-1: Initial Discovery • • • • • • On 2002/08/11 at approximately 0350 hours, the Foundation intercepted an emergency services telephone call from within Fenton. A transcript of the call is included below, in its entirety.
[BEGIN LOG] CALLER: Oh– oh, thank God! I– DISPATCHER: 911, what is your emergency?
CALLER: I'm– something happened to my sister, she's– oh, God. I can’t see a thing, the lights went off and she started— DISPATCHER: Take a deep breath. Come on now, sweetheart. Breathe with me. There we go. What happened?
CALLER: [A pause.] Something stretched her.
DISPATCHER: I'm sorry?
CALLER: Something picked her up and pulled at her and then she fell into some sort of hole and I– I don't know where she is. I don't know what happened to her.
DISPATCHER: I'm afraid I don't understand, sweetie.
CALLER: Listen– I don't know what in God's name just happened, she was just sitting on her chair, and then– then she got pulled upwards into the air like she was on a string, neck first then arms then legs and she was screaming and pleading and coughing and— [A muffled sob.] CALLER: And then she fell back down. Into the chair. Through it. [A cry.] Oh Lord, her legs started pulling her into the ground, through the floor— her bones cracked and snapped and then, then… [A tone is audible as the call is intercepted by Foundation assets.] CALLER: Please, send help!
AGENT: Help is already on the way. Ma’am, is the body still moving? Can you detect a pulse?
CALLER: She's moving, she's moving. Her arms are all spread out, she's leaning over the hole in the floor. It's so deep, she– Millie, don't touch me! But her face… oh Lord, it came off. Millie— oh God, Millie! Stop smiling! Stop— stop— AGENT: Ma’am, is the ground still moving?
CALLER: It’s… trying to say something. She’s talking. Oh God, please don’t do this to my— AGENT: I need you to leave the house right now.
CALLER: Something’s moving inside her! There’s bulges! Please, don’t jump. There’s nothing down there. Please.
[A scream. A sound similar to wood cracking is audible.] CALLER: The hole is expanding.
AGENT: Please, exit the house right now.
CALLER: You’re not Millie.
[A wet groan is audible.] CALLER: She was never that tall.
AGENT: Ma’am, immediately. Please.
[Sound of ripping flesh. A gurgle.] CALLER: That’s not blood.
[Call terminates.] [END LOG] The call was triangulated and a response team was dispatched to the location. Upon arrival, the house from which the call was made was not found, instead being replaced by a large sinkhole. Nothing was found within the hole. Brief vocalizations were audible from within the newly-formed sinkhole, in the voice of an older woman. A partial transcript is available below.
[BEGIN LOG] UNKNOWN: Have you ever seen a body decay in the mud? After the bugs start getting to it, and the skin starts falling off the bones, and the face can no longer hold anything but a scowl. After the rot gets to it and then only thing that isn’t ash and dust is a caked skeleton and twenty-eight little black teeth.
UNKNOWN: It starts to sink.
UNKNOWN: Who are you?
UNKNOWN: From the right angle, it starts to fall. The dirt gives it love again. The dirt gives it substance— renders meaning. The brain becomes a worm and the bones are cracked to little bits with the gooey marrow spread across the pieces like glue. The heart pumps blood. Black. The lungs breathe dust. The face— picked away by insects and fungi and all sorts of yucky little things— oh, honey.
UNKNOWN: It laughs.
[END LOG] Shortly after the team departed, vocalizations were audible throughout the town. An excerpt recorded by a resident, audible through a shower drain in a nearby home is included below.
[BEGIN LOG] UNKNOWN: Hmm. An old story my pastor used to tell me. Back when the Lord still dined in the hearts of men and the dirt was still fresh from the rain.
UNKNOWN: He told me all this with a crooked smile and an even worse back and arms that seemed to reach out— out! Right at you to put a smile on your face. Long, long, long. Legs that could reach you deep inside the Earth. A tongue and fingers to make you fall until you couldn’t tell up from down anymore. But did it matter? It was all down.
Hmm.
UNKNOWN: Down, down, down.
[END LOG] The vocalizations ceased temporarily, before continuing again in a different location.
Agent Porter discovered the sound echoing through a network of pipes in the basement of Fenton Elementary School. Because the sinkhole and the school are within close proximity to each other, most of the second vocalizations were recorded.
[BEGIN LOG] UNKNOWN: —He told me about what happened at the cross one day. The big one, the one with the body and blood that stretched so tall— floor to ceiling— with a nail through each hand, bang bang bang. He told me about the other Mary, the one who greased Him up and stuck a puppet in his bones. How she pulled open his casket straight out of the soil and threw him up into the air three feet, four feet, five feet— ha! Until he started falling down, down, down and never did stop. Did he?
UNKNOWN: He told me, by God— he told me that it was a miracle. Ha. Didn’t stop for the ground. Just kept falling. Just kept thrashing. You think it’s a miracle too? Buried six feet under in a pile of hate. Don’t lie to me. Lord knows I ain’t. He sunk so low, so deep that it would look like he was falling right into Hell itself. Into wood and blood and floor so thick like it was like quicksand.
UNKNOWN: The dirt and bone got pulled in, splinter by splinter, vein by vein until his face was the size of a mountain. Eyes open. Mouth wide. Screaming isn’t an option, is it? Not when there’s no one to hear you so far down.
UNKNOWN: He was clean like the dirt, my pastor said. He was going to heaven, my pastor said.
MULTIPLE VOICES: Seated at the right hand of the Lord.
UNKNOWN: Don’t you know it. Just an endless abyss without another side. Heaven.
UNKNOWN: Don’t look at me like that.
UNKNOWN: Who was gonna tell him that it wasn’t Jesus anymore?
[END LOG] Personnel observing the original sinkhole reported seeing movements and figures within the darkness. Three personnel and one civilian fell in before an official security cordon was established. A crowd of civilians gathered around the hole and became increasingly violent before Foundation agents were able to disperse the group. A partial transcript of Agent Porter's debriefing is included below.
Yeah, yeah. No, I'm fine, Doctor. Thank you.
We got there at about 0400. It was dark. Rainy. Could barely see the trees five feet next to you. When we got there, there wasn’t a house in sight. Just a pile of mud and a dead bush. I think I saw a flashlight beam pointing all over the place— left, right, left, right.
Swinging like a madman. We thought that was our victim. Who else would have been there? How the hell were we supposed to know that it wasn’t her?
By all accounts, that house should have been there. It had to have been there. Nothing.
Just a pit. Shined the flashlight down it. Just more darkness. We dropped a flare down the top of the sinkhole. Ten feet. Fifteen feet. It just kept falling. Twenty. After it disappeared, we figured we'd stay clear of it for a while.
After a bit, Whitlock1 started complaining about hearing voices. He said the voice came from the hole– not the hole itself, but the dirt. He said it told him to jump.
I saw him brace. I know that man. I've worked with him for years. I served in Afghanistan with him, before we joined the Foundation. I've never seen him scared like that. Never, you understand? Not while bullets whizzed past our heads in a three-foot trench. Not while he watched his daughter die. No, he’d always put his hands together, look down, and pray. I have no idea how he kept his faith after all that. I'd never seen him shed a tear before. Never seen him all paranoid, looking around all around him like a wild dog.
We couldn't calm him down. We were about to sedate him, when– when he started sinking into the mud.
He wasn’t praying this time.
It started pulling him in, towards the hole. He lost his balance real quick. Fell into the mud. He started thrashing, fighting against it, and we tried to help– we tried to help, you understand, but he just wouldn't let us. He kicked and screamed– nearly bit my hand off.
We stopped trying after his leg came off. Clean off the bone. Still don't know if it was the mud, or if it was one of us.
I worked with him for years. I've babysat his kids before. Fuck me.
He fell in real quick after that. He tried holding on to the edge, but he couldn't get a drop of traction. Just too slippery. The scream. God, the scream is what I won't forget. Just inhuman. Or the most human sound I've ever heard. I saw him thrashing as he fell, he reached up and looked at me, straight at me, with the same eyes I've known for twenty- five years. I wanted to reach in and… and grab his hand. He kept screaming until we could barely see him anymore. Never heard him hit the bottom.
We stood there for a while. No one said a word. Until– the rest of the mud started falling into the pit. Little bits and pieces started falling in from the sides, then the rain started washing it all down, straight into the hole. It got big, fast. We left pretty quickly after that.
We would have classified it as a one-off anomaly if that was the only thing we saw in that town. By God, I wish it was.
Addendum 8894-2: Timeline of Events The following timeline was constructed from scattered eyewitness accounts.
2002/08/04: A thunderstorm begins four kilometers north of Fenton, Indiana. It continues towards Fenton until it completely covers it by midnight. It does not stop for the duration of the events in this timeline.
2002/08/05: By midday, the storm eliminates half the town's infrastructure, rendering most of the town deprived of light and electricity.
2002/08/06: The main road leading in and out of the town collapses due to a mudslide, and by 4:00 PM, the mayor declares a state of emergency. Schools are shut down, and most businesses close.
2002/08/07: Two schoolchildren report experiencing identical visions to their parents. They describe seeing their homes engulfed by flame, following a lightning strike. As the home burns to the ground, a figure, of which they are intensely aware, is present within the upper levels of the structure. As the rest of the house collapses, the figure levitates above the rubble and hangs in the sky, writhing as the flames cover its body. It does not burn. Slowly, as the rest of the rubble descends from view, the figure begins to fall. It stares at the viewer, before disappearing into the ground.
2002/08/08: Jordan Wakefield, a resident of Fenton, wakes up with his arms and legs stretched through the upper-story floor of his house into its basement. He screams for help, but due to the storm, no one nearby hears his cries. At approximately noon, a loud cracking sound is heard throughout the town, as Wakefield falls through his bedroom into the ground. He is not found.
2002/08/09: The mayor considers calling in supplies from Indianapolis, but soon realizes that telecommunications have also been disabled. Mud completely covers all access routes in and out of the town. Near dusk, "Baby Dorsey" falls off the bridge in the center of the town while her parents dig nearby for her lost doll. She shouts, "Stubby can talk! Stubby can talk!", before jumping off. She does not land, instead hovering in midair, unresponsive to any physical stimuli.
2002/08/10: The news of Dorsey spreads around the town. Pastor Lipp of the town's sole church, Fenton Presbyterian, declares the event a "miracle". Dozens gather around Dorsey's unresponsive body to gaze in awe and pray, while she stares open-eyed at the ground beneath her. Around midnight, a sinkhole swallows the home of Patricia Wallace.
2002/08/11: An anonymous citizen accidentally drops a book into a sewer while walking outside. When they look past the grate into the sewer, they see "a figure falling down a hole". They do not elaborate on this.
2002/08/14: Dorsey hits the ground.
2002/08/15: See Addendum 8894-4.
Addendum 8894-3: Audio Logs Vocalizations around the primary sinkhole began the next morning. A partial transcript has been included below.
[BEGIN LOG] UNKNOWN: Have you ever spoken to a doll?
• • • • • • • • • • UNKNOWN: I know what it said. I know what it told you. Open your eyes, will you, son?
Shoulders back and neck straight. Listen to me.
MULTIPLE VOICES: I am a sinner.
UNKNOWN: That you are. When the prophet Daniel spoke to the king of Babylon about the dream of the tree, did Daniel weep? When the scholars and children were burned in a thousand ovens for not proclaiming faith to a false idol, did they weep? I have heard the screams of the horn and harp and lyre and many instruments, oh, and yet still I stay faithful.
UNKNOWN: Fall with your arms outstretched. Put your faith in Jesus. Let Him take you away.
MULTIPLE VOICES: I am unclean.
UNKNOWN: You ever look over the edge of a drop– maybe three feet, maybe thirty– and feel that little voice inside that tells you to jump? That’s Jesus, calling you home.
UNKNOWN: In the last moments before you hit the ground, you will understand the meaning of faith. You will understand salvation. Pray to God you don't hit the ground.
UNKNOWN: Spread your arms out. Wide. Let yourself fall.
UNKNOWN: Come home with us.
[END LOG] A series of dreams were experienced by Foundation agents stationed in the town. A transcript of a testimony has been included below.
The dream started in a field. The place was familiar– instantly familiar– it was the farm where I grew up. Every bit of it was how I remember. The rusted wheelbarrow was by the henhouse, the pine trees arched over the barn. It was like home again.
Well, almost.
I walked out to the back of the barn. That's where the horses lived. That's where the horses should have been. I heard them neighing while I was going over there.
Something– something about the sound just… put me on guard. It wasn't panicked or anything, just– unnatural. Didn't sound like them. It was like someone else's horses in our horses' skin.
When I got to the other side of the barn, the stables weren't there. The horses weren't there. There was just this– this massive pit, maybe fifteen feet across, right where the horses should have been. There was dirt piling up on the sides like someone had just dug it out. I couldn't see the bottom.
When I looked up again, the sun had already set. I walked to the edge, right to the edge, like something was telling my legs to walk over there. Something that wasn't me. I felt my knees brace as I stood there. I could have just stepped away, looked away, but I– I couldn't. Something told me I had to get in.
Something told me I had to jump. If I didn't, I could stand there all night, waiting for the cold to get to me, but if I did… I would be judged. I would end up someplace better.
I looked over the edge. I jumped.
I knew it was a dream at that point. I knew it couldn't be real. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to wake up so bad. But I couldn't. I just kept falling. Waiting second by second to hit the bottom. To feel my bones crushed by the force of the plummet. It didn't come.
The darkness overtook me. I couldn't move. I couldn't escape.
A minute passes.
I have been judged.
I hit the bottom.
I wake up.
As the morning progressed, more vocalizations were audible emanating from a well near the edge of town. A transcript has been included below.
[BEGIN LOG] UNKNOWN: When the last king jumps off the tallest tower, built one hundred thousand cubits high, will he fall?
UNKNOWN: I’ve spent many days thinking about this.
UNKNOWN: Here’s what I think will happen. The last finger on his hand will be outstretched, hanging to the last stone. The last scream from his mouth will be weak, as the last beads of sweat weaken his grip. The head will fall back. His body will fall down.
UNKNOWN: He will face the ground.
MULTIPLE VOICES: A leap of faith.
UNKNOWN: The last king will plummet. His last motions will be in desperation but the uncaring nature of the Earth will render these futile. He will weep. The ground will reach up, one, two, three and for the last seconds he stares at the ground rushing up at him and for the last moments he will feel the pavement hit his chin and body and collapse his bones and lungs until the last breath.
UNKNOWN: He will be declared unfaithful.
MULTIPLE VOICES: Unbeliever.
UNKNOWN: I heard it speak all these things, all these good words and all these bad words— all of it! That fucker shouldn’t have spoke! It planted the seed of doubt, did it not? It questioned their faith, faith unshackled, and it screamed in disbelief in return.
MULTIPLE VOICES: Forgive me.
UNKNOWN: [Screaming.] That thing took my child! I’ll have you know, son, the last thing I do— [Silence.] UNKNOWN: Will be for your own salvation.
MULTIPLE VOICES: The word of the Lord.
UNKNOWN: Amen.
[END LOG] Addendum 8894-4: Events of 2002/08/15 Over the morning of 2002/08/15, SCP-8894's activity increased dramatically. A timeline of events has been constructed from eyewitness accounts.
0642: A sinkhole forms at the site of Baby Dorsey's death. Her remains are brought to the town's clinic for autopsy.
~0700: The town gathers around the site of Baby Dorsey's death. The residents of Fenton bring candles and sing hymns as they form a circle surrounding the sinkhole. Notably, the smoke from the candles wafts into the sinkhole. A few eyewitnesses recall hearing voices emanating from the sinkhole, singing along.
~0830: The crowd begins to walk towards Fenton Presbyterian Church. Seismic tremors are recorded throughout the town.
~1000: The autopsy concludes. Dorsey's body continues to move and vocalize despite the loss of all blood. She repeats, "Still falling, still falling," until samples of SCP-8894 are forcibly removed from her corpse.
1022: All vocalizations cease.
1024: Pastor Lipp emerges from the crowd and directs the group towards the church. The rain beats heavily on the crowd, but they do not seem to take notice.
Their candles do not burn out.
1040: The group passes Fenton Memorial Park, the town's cemetery. Onlookers report that the crowd is much larger than originally seen– it appears to have doubled in size, with many new members joining whose identities are unknown or unclear to observers.
1044: Dorsey's mother and father appear in the crowd.
1048: Lipp enters the church.
These events culminated in an incident that occurred within Fenton Presbyterian Church. The sole recording detailing the event live-broadcasted to Foundation Site-39 has been transcribed below.
[BEGIN LOG] [Video opens to a church sanctuary, in which a middle-aged stern-faced man is standing.
The man, identified as Pastor Buddy Lipp, addresses the crowd.] LIPP: Friends, a question for you. I want you each to reflect, to think deeply about your answer. And then I want you to tell me.
• • • • • • • • • [Silence.] LIPP: Do you think you're going to heaven?
[Collective murmuring. The crowd becomes agitated.] LIPP: Quiet! I want you each to think. What have you done wrong? How have each of you sinned? What have each of you done to give in to your collective uncleanliness?
[The murmuring continues. The ground shakes very slightly.] LIPP: Nothing will clean you, that you know. The unending rain will not clean you. The mud will not clean you. A leap of faith will not clean you. Sinner.
[LIPP's head jerks backward as he begins to levitate. This does not seem to affect his speech.] LIPP: I've had people ask me, "Buddy, why is this happening to me?" I always tell them the same thing. You failed. This is your punishment.
[A loud crack fills the audience as LIPP's spine cracks in two. He does not seem affected by this, and does not acknowledge it.] LIPP: Stand up. Each of you. Stand up now.
[The crowd stands uneasily.] LIPP: Look at yourselves. I have another question for you sinners. Are you afraid of falling? Does that plummet scare you? Does it test your faith?
[A gash runs down the side of LIPP's left leg, spilling blood. The crowd gasps. The ground trembles again.] LIPP: I'm going to push you. I'm going to push you down, and you're gonna topple backward, straight off a cliff. Because you all need to listen. You all need to learn. You will clench your asses and thrash and scream and reach out with your hands and arms as far as you can but nothing you can do will stop you.
[The crowd begins to levitate. Screams fill the crowd, as they attempt to move. The camera is also included.] LIPP: You want to know how you can go to heaven? Do you want to know what you have to do?
[The crowd levitates approximately four feet off the ground. Rain begins to fall in through the ceiling.] LIPP: Beg.
[A loud cracking noise is audible throughout the entire town as the floor of the church breaks in two across the center. Dirt is visible expanding and contracting as a hole opens in the center of the church. A pew falls in, crashing on the way down.] LIPP: Beg. Beg, and you will be forgiven. Beg, and you will be cleansed.
[LIPP's body stretches vertically. The skin of his legs splits. As he continues to speak, the hole expands to cover the entire church. Nothing but darkness is visible inside.] LIPPS: Beg, and you will meet salvation.
[The crowd, alongside LIPP, cease levitating and fall into the pit. The hall is filled with screams.] [The camera falls along with the rest of the crowd. It shakes violently and thrashes as it tumbles into the wide maw of the sinkhole. Dirt and cracked floorboards are visible across the edge of the pit.] [As the camera continues to fall, darkness eventually overtakes the frame and the screams grow soft.] [After a period of darkness lasting approximately two minutes, golden light is visible at one end of the hole. The camera falls towards the light at a quick rate before the light overtakes the frame.] [The camera adjusts to the new brightness. On the other side of the sinkhole is a harsh white landscape, with no discernable foliage or land formations. The camera now appears to be falling upwards, along with a scattered group of a few dozen people.
Blood and small amounts of viscera drip upwards, towards the sky.] [A hand reaches out in front of the camera towards the ground. The figures continue to rise.] [The video continues for about sixty more seconds in silence, before the connection terminates.] [END LOG] The thunderstorm in the region ceased shortly after. SCP-8894 has displayed little to no activity since.
Ergophobia: Without Regards SCP Anthology 2024 Photophobia: Live in the Dark. Die in the Light.
‡ Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8894" by cubeflix, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/ scp-8894. 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: vials.jpg Name: A black and white photo of a bunch of cups. Office of War Information Photograph Author: U.S. Army Signal Corps License: Public Domain Source Link: Library of Congress Footnotes 1. Another member of the original response team.
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