Connected to: SCP-007/SCP-001-B
Excerpted from the personal field journal of Dr. E. Murchison, Foundation Geology Division. Recovered ██/██/20██ near [REDACTED].
Day 1Initial readings suggest abnormal sinkholes forming across the valley. Local reports blame old mines, but the mineral layers don't match. Entire caverns have collapsed, hollow as eggshells.What bothers me most is the silence. No bats. No birds. Even the soil feels wrong—dry, almost powdered.
Day 3I sent down two drones. Both cut feed within minutes. The first transmitted nothing but static. The second transmitted… clicking. Not mechanical. Something organic. My tech swore it sounded like mandibles.
I laughed it off at first. We're scientists. Not children scared of shadows. Still, I asked for permission to go down myself. Request pending.
Day 4I couldn't wait. I lowered myself.The walls were carved, not collapsed. Smooth tunnels spiraled downward like an ant colony scaled for giants.There were… husks. Human husks. Skin leathery, hollowed, yet intact. As though something drank them dry without breaking the shell.
I vomited in my respirator.
Day 5The chittering never stops. I hear it in my sleep now, even aboveground. The soil moves beneath my boots, like a heartbeat pulsing under stone.
I know something lives here. Not just one thing — a colony. But colonies need queens.
Day 7Today I saw it.I wasn't supposed to — my escort told me to turn back, but the ground split open. I fell into a chamber the size of a cathedral.
And there it was.
A body like black glass, limbs coiling and unfolding, every joint glistening. The air was thick with pheromones — I couldn't breathe without tasting iron.It turned its head toward me.
And I knew.
Not in words, not in thought, but in certainty: I was prey.
Final EntryI think about ants now. How they obey, how they fight, how they die for their queen without hesitation. It isn't loyalty. It isn't fear. It's inevitability.
That's what this place is. Not a nest. Not a lair.A kingdom.
And I saw its Guardian.I can still hear it moving through the rock, through me, gnawing on my bones from the inside out.
If you find this journal, don't come looking.You don't look for the ground you walk on. You just pray it holds.
(The journal ends here. No remains of Dr. Murchison were ever recovered. Investigation teams sent to the valley report identical auditory hallucinations of subterranean chittering. Exploration indefinitely suspended.)