SCP-6299 - The Sorrowful Sonnet

1 0 0
                                    

Item #: SCP-6299
Object Class: Cognitohazard (Euclid)

Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-6299 is contained within a soundproof, hermetically sealed storage locker located at Site-██. The storage locker is equipped with a failsafe lock that requires simultaneous biometric and keycard access from two Level 4 personnel. Under no circumstances is SCP-6299 to be read, recited, or listened to without direct supervision by Foundation mental health specialists.

Personnel handling SCP-6299 must undergo a mental health screening before and after any interaction with the object. If an individual is exposed to SCP-6299's text, they must be removed from the containment area and subjected to immediate psychological evaluation. Class-A amnestics are to be administered to those affected, though their efficacy may vary depending on the duration and intensity of exposure.

All research involving SCP-6299 has been suspended until more reliable containment protocols can be developed.

Description:
SCP-6299 is a 14-line handwritten poem, known as The Sorrowful Sonnet, written in a flowing, ornate script that initially appears indecipherable to all who view it. The sonnet's contents remain unreadable unless the observer attempts to actively understand the writing. Once the reader begins to comprehend the text, it becomes legible in the reader's native language, triggering immediate cognitive and emotional effects.

Within three minutes of reading SCP-6299, subjects experience intense and overwhelming emotions, primarily focused on despair, guilt, and profound remorse. The onset of these effects is rapid, often leaving individuals incapacitated and in tears. They report hearing faint whispers in an unknown language and a compulsion to recite the poem aloud. If the subject succumbs to this compulsion, the emotional effects intensify, leading to severe psychological breakdowns, including suicidal ideation and complete emotional collapse.

Prolonged exposure to SCP-6299 results in a progressive deterioration of the subject's mental state, causing vivid hallucinations and recurring visions of personal failures, losses, and unresolved traumas. The cognitohazardous properties of SCP-6299 are resistant to conventional amnestic treatments, and many subjects continue to exhibit symptoms of depression and emotional instability long after exposure. In extreme cases, subjects have been rendered comatose, reciting the poem in a barely audible whisper while in an unresponsive state.

Addendum 6299-A:
During a test conducted on ██/██/20██, D-Class personnel D-9412 was instructed to read SCP-6299 under controlled conditions. After two minutes of exposure, D-9412 began sobbing uncontrollably and muttering phrases of self-blame and remorse. At the three-minute mark, D-9412 recited the entire sonnet aloud, after which they collapsed to the floor, stating repeatedly, "I failed them." When questioned afterward, D-9412 could not recall what the sonnet contained but continued to experience vivid nightmares involving a family they claimed not to remember having.

Subsequent psychological evaluation revealed that D-9412 had no prior history of family trauma, leading researchers to speculate that SCP-6299 may implant false memories as part of its cognitohazardous effects. D-9412 was administered Class-A amnestics but continued to exhibit symptoms of severe depression for several weeks following the incident.

Addendum 6299-B:
It has been theorized that SCP-6299 is memetically linked to concepts of irreversible loss and despair, with exposure causing the subject to relive or construct deeply personal emotional traumas. Subjects often report visions of their greatest regrets or losses, even if these events did not occur in their actual lives. It remains unknown whether SCP-6299 taps into existing memories or creates entirely new experiences of loss for its victims.

Given the significant psychological damage inflicted by SCP-6299, further testing has been indefinitely suspended pending new containment protocols. Personnel are advised to avoid unnecessary exposure to SCP-6299, and all attempts to translate, interpret, or analyze the sonnet are strictly prohibited.

          

End of SCP Log

Interview Log 6299-03

Interviewer: Dr. Emily Havers, Cognitohazard Research Specialist
Interviewee: D-4725 (Subject exposed to SCP-6299 for 90 seconds)
Date: ██/██/20██
Location: Site-██, Quarantine Chamber

[BEGIN LOG]

Dr. Havers: Good morning, D-4725. Can you hear me clearly?

D-4725: (Voice shaky) Yeah, I hear you. Am I... am I going to be okay?

Dr. Havers: You're safe now, but I need you to help me understand what happened when you were exposed to SCP-6299. Let's start from the beginning. What did you see when you first looked at the poem?

D-4725: (Pauses, staring at the floor) At first, I couldn't make sense of it. The words didn't look like words. Just weird scribbles on the page. But I kept looking. I don't know why. Then, suddenly, it made sense. It just... clicked. The words, they were there, and I could feel them.

Dr. Havers: You mentioned earlier that you felt something when you began to understand the text. Can you describe that feeling?

D-4725: (Sighs, rubbing his arms) It was like a weight. Like something heavy just settled on my chest. I felt guilty, but I didn't know why. The words—each one hit harder than the last. They made me think of things I haven't thought about in years. Mistakes. Regrets. Things I've done, people I've hurt. It was like the poem knew every bad thing I'd ever done and made me face it, all at once.

Dr. Havers: What happened next? When did you start hearing the whispers?

D-4725: (Frowns, closing his eyes) It was after the third line, I think. I read the first few lines aloud, then it hit me. The voice. This soft whispering. It wasn't clear at first, just a murmur in the back of my mind, like someone standing just out of sight. But the more I focused on the poem, the louder it got. I couldn't make out what it was saying, but it was constant. It made me feel like... like I'd done something unforgivable.

Dr. Havers: Were you aware of the compulsion to recite the poem? Or did it feel like a natural response?

D-4725: (Shakes head) I didn't want to, but it just came out of me. The words felt... important. Like if I didn't speak them, I'd lose something. Or maybe I'd already lost something. I don't know. I just knew I had to say the words. Each one felt worse than the last. I tried to stop, but I couldn't.

Dr. Havers: And how did you feel emotionally as you recited the poem?

D-4725: (Voice quivering) Empty. Like there was nothing left. The sadness—it wasn't just mine. It was like the whole world was crumbling. All I could think about was everyone I'd ever let down, every failure, every moment of weakness. I couldn't breathe. It was like drowning in regret. The whispers got louder, like they were telling me to keep going, to finish the sonnet. But I didn't want to. I didn't want to feel that pain anymore.

Dr. Havers: That's when you collapsed?

D-4725: Yeah. I blacked out. The last thing I remember is seeing... faces. People I knew, people I hurt, staring at me from the edges of my vision. They didn't say anything. They just looked at me, like they knew I deserved it. Then everything went dark.

Dr. Havers: (Pauses, glancing at her notes) Since waking up, have you continued to hear the whispers or seen any visual disturbances?

D-4725: (Nods slowly) The whispers aren't as loud now, but they're still there, like a quiet hum in the back of my mind. Sometimes I hear them when I'm alone. And the faces... I still see them. Just out of the corner of my eye. When I turn to look, they're gone, but I know they're there. Watching me. Judging me.

Anomalous Encounters: The SCP CasebookWhere stories live. Discover now