Diary 2 by DeYtH Banger (ebook audio reader .txt) 📕

burning up and you need to cool off - and the next thing anyone knows, you're naked and frozen to death curled up in a snow bank. I had a mate who went that way in '98. As far as I know he's still curled up next to the Hillary Step.3

█████: So you believed you were imagining it.

 

L.: Right. So I tried to shrug it off, but I couldn't take my eyes off the man who'd started climbing up towards me. And that's when it all went to shit.

█████: How so?

 

L.: Right away all that warmth and comfort was gone. Suddenly I felt cold - colder than I'd been before. Colder than I had a right to be. I couldn't feel my fingers or my face. My lips felt cracked and frozen. I tried to breathe and it was like my lungs were full of water. My legs cramped up and next thing I knew I was down. My mates were almost thirty meters off by now. I tried to yell to them but all that came out was a whisper. I looked up and that man - that thing - was still coming.

 

█████: How long did it take for it to reach you?

 

L.: An hour? I'm not sure. I couldn't see my watch and I don't think I could've made sense of it anyway. I managed to get my arms on the ground but I couldn't push myself to my feet. It was getting to the point that even if I could right myself I wouldn't be able to make it back to camp before nightfall. I was starting to think I wasn't making it off the mountain at all - but what worried me more was the man. The closer he got to me, I started to feel something in the back of my head - something primal, and menacing, and above all, hateful.

█████: What happened when it reached you?

 

L.: It grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up to face it. I was looking right into those goggles, those eyes…

█████: Were they goggles or eyes?

 

L.: Neither. Both. I don't know. But it was like I could see things in them. Not see them, so much… more like feel them. Images and feelings in the back of my mind. Rage, and joy, and… confusion.

█████: Confusion?

 

L.: I don't think it was used to people resisting it. It asked me a question.

█████: It spoke?

 

L.: Not words, so much. I could hear it, but not with my ears. I saw images of people - people sitting back in hot tubs, laying by a crackling fire, sunning themselves on the beach. Warm, happy people. But I knew their faces. They were faces I'd seen in books, and in pictures, and people I'd seen on the way up the mountain who I hadn't seen on the way down. I saw Green Boots! People still lying face-down somewhere in the death zone. And I heard its question.

 

█████: Which was?

L.: "You would refuse my gift?"

 

(L. became very troubled at this point in the interview and was silent for some time.)

█████: Go on.

 

L.: I could barely make sense of anything that was going on… but I knew that this thing in front of me was a bigger threat than any storm or any snow drift. Moving my lips was harder than anything I've ever done… but I did, and I told it "Yes."

 

█████: How did it respond?

 

L.: I saw more images. Images of those same people, lying in the snow, already half-dead. I could tell I was looking at them from its perspective. It was [DATA EXPUNGED] them. I could've been sick. It didn't say anything to me in words so much - but it was angry at me. It was offended, outraged, shocked. It was trying to tell me I'd been ungrateful - and instead of relaxing peacefully while it [DATA EXPUNGED] I'd have to feel every minute of it. I asked it, "Why are you doing this?"

 

█████: What did it say then?

 

L.: It mocked me.

(L. is silent again.)

 

█████: Just a few more questions, please. How did it mock you?

 

L.: It… it showed me another one of its victims. Probably the first one. Mallory. 1924. I'd have known that face like my own mother's, but I'd never seen it in that kind of detail before… or in that condition. He was on his stomach. Weak. Frostbitten. Dying. He was waving and hollering at the thing as I watched it approach from its own perspective. It looked him in the eyes and it [DATA EXPUNGED]. It made me watch every second until it was done. I think watching it was worse than living it would've been. And then it told me…

 

(L. is silent.)

 

█████: Told you what?

 

L.: "Because it's there."4

█████: What happened next?

 

L.: I wasn't going to let [DATA EXPUNGED] happen to me. It was holding me up, so I had just enough strength to ball up my fist. I punched it. Hard as I could, every last ounce of strength I had. Right in the goggles. They cracked. I could see what was behind them.

 

█████: What was that?

 

L.: [DATA EXPUNGED] I don't remember much after that. I must have gotten into my bivvy bag somehow because that's how they found me.

 

<End Log>

 

Closing Statement: After L.'s encounter with SCP-1529, it was not observed, active or inactive, for 5 months, 17 days, 19 hours. Upon next observation, its goggles showed no signs of damage or wear. L. passed away on ██/██/20██. Foundation media assets have reported that the cause of death was due to complications from childhood exposure to asbestos. An autopsy performed by the Foundation indicated that L. was suffering extreme hypothermia, frostbite, and cerebral edema at the time of his death. L. had retired from mountaineering following the SCP-1529 encounter and had not travelled more than 500 meters above sea level in the 12 months preceding his death.

 

- Hide log

 

ADDENDUM: On ██/██/20██, aerial surveillance picked up an image of an individual of similar appearance to SCP-1529 near the summit of ████████ ███████, ██████. As the government of ██████ has prohibited mountaineering, threat to normalcy is negligible at this time. Aerial and satellite surveillance of ███████ ███████ will continue on a regular basis until permanent monitoring stations can be established.

Footnotes1. English mountaineer who perished in 1924 after possibly becoming the first man to reach the summit of Everest2. Nickname given to the body of Tsewang Paljor, who — while wearing a distinctive bright green pair of mountain boots — collapsed and died on the main trail along the northern approach in 1996.3. A sheer rock face near the summit on the southeast approach, named for Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to successfully traverse it in 1953.4. Quote attributed to Mallory in the New York Times, 1923, when asked why he wanted to climb Everest.

Holder of Life

 

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Life". The worker will try to suppress a groan and you will have to ask again. He will then lead you to an operating room that looks just like any other you might or might not have seen in your life. The worker will give you a scalpel and then leave you alone in the room, locking the door behind him.

 

You will have to wait. Wait for almost an hour. Then the door will open and several people will enter the room, including a pregnant woman. The woman will lie down on the operating table; the other people, who will look like doctors, will prepare everything for the child's birth. While they do that, you will be able to ask the woman one question. Ask "How can they be reassembled?” nothing else, or the doctors will begin to skin and disassemble you. You will be fully conscious while they do this.

 

If you have asked the right question, the woman will begin to scream, the child is about to be born. You will have to wait until it's over, and one of the doctors will give you the child, moving his mouth, but without sound coming from his lips. As soon as he finishes 'talking' and smiles, you will have to throw the child to the ground and ram the scalpel into its head, or else it will smash your rib-cage and rip your heart out with inhuman strength.

 

If you have thrown the child to the ground in time, it will, despite the scalpel in its head, answer the question you have asked earlier. It will speak with a demonic voice that might drive you mad. While it is talking, the other people in the room will vanish without leaving a trace. After the child finishes talking, it will simply die and the door of the room will unlock. You are now free to go, if you have not been driven mad by the voice.

The dead baby is object 11 of 538. Dare you not remove the scalpel?

Holder of Wealth

 

 

 

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Wealth." The worker will raise one eyebrow, as if puzzled by your request. Ask a second time, and the worker will shrug and take you across the street, where an opulent mansion awaits. This mansion was not there when you started your quest, but it's best that you not preoccupy yourself with the mansion's origin. Its owner would rather not scare you away.

 

 

Inside the front door will lie a grand staircase, spiraling up across the foyer. The walls will be covered with fine paintings, and a large marble statue will rest on a pedestal by the base of the stairs. The statue's eldritch features will evoke an image of a truly horrific beast, at once both alien and evil. Admire it all you want, but don't touch it, unless you wish to awaken this starved monster.

 

Ascend the staircase. As long as you touch nothing, you will be in no danger. Don't panic. At the top of the stairs will be a small, unassuming wooden door. It will open for you, so long as you are not afraid.

You should see a