SCP-8386 - To Us, Our Forever Story

Everlasting, that's what we have.

Jackson Harter, prior to death.

Item #: SCP-8386

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-8386 are to be stored in Site-270's Safe Containment Wing. Objects out of Foundation possession relating to SCP-8386 are to be acquired, with civilians amnesticized wherever necessary.

Information regarding Harter's cause of death has been doctored to remove references of the anomaly.

Description: SCP-8386 is (as-of-writing) 116 copies of "Our Forever Story", written by one Jackson Harter. The book's contents mainly consist of a timeline detailing his relationship with Starla McGinley up to his passing on the 13th of October 1999. A blurb for SCP-8386 has been included for reference:

Dedicated to my darling, the star of my darkness.

Us people do not last for long, but we are the exceptions. Our tales are what make us forever, our stories will stand with the world for millennia to come. You and I, our love will permeate for forever to come.

SCP-8386's anomaly occurs while looking through its composition; The subject reports a telepathic voice that reads the narrative to them depending on what page is currently open. Research has determined it to be that of Harter himself, though attempts to communicate with it yielded no success.

Apart from an abnormal level of iron comprising SCP-8386's text, no other properties have been noted.

Addendum — Discovery Log

SCP-8386 was discovered upon mentions of its effects circling social media. Foundation web-crawlers were sent out to scrub said confidential material with agents being dispatched to retrieve the given copies. The location of origin was found to be a two-story house located in Sparks, Nevada, USA.

Investigation uncovered Harter to have been murdered by his romantic partner, who was shortly detained and brought to Foundation custody for further questioning. McGinley admitted to creating SCP-8386, but denied her involvement in the writing itself, appearing to be in delirium.

When asked regarding her intentions, McGinley stated the following:

"Why did I do it? Is that what you're asking?

…

I did it out of love, sir. My love for him, his love for me, our love for each other; Such things tend to fall on deaf ears, it's a pity.

When we met all those years ago, we knew it true. I could tell, from the red in his cheeks and the look in his eyes, he shared the same sensations as me. That euphoria, an ambrosia unlike any other. The both of us, we were made for one another. From the day we crossed paths, our infatuation only grew stronger and stronger.

A heart-wrenching feeling like this, it is no wonder any one person would be so encapsulated by it. Every time I locked sights with him, every time I heard his gentle voice, every time I wrapped my arms around him, it pulled me deeper into this feeling. He was everything to me.

Oh, but songbirds like us only last for so long. It hurts knowing that one day, those moments of tenderness and intimacy, would cease to be. Days without him had never felt so cold, my skin itches reminiscing on such dark times. I wanted nothing more than to let him fall into my embrace for an eternity to come. He would leave marks on my neck and whisper nothings into my ear. Those three words, those eight letters, they ring in my ear from dawn till dusk.

You would wonder then why I came to such a thing. Having to bring about our separation, having to bring about the end of his fruitful life This, I'll say it until my throat gives in: I did it out of love, sir. I did it out of love. The joyous emotion we had bore no restraints, it wanted to be known. What pure and beautiful love, it wanted everyone to see.

I did not kill him, my dear Jackson. He gave himself to me, and I returned with all the love I could muster. Even as the light left his eyes, as I plunged it deep into his chest, we knew it true. Such things had to be done, as our truths could stand the test of time. Such endless affection had come to last, we were made to last forever.

When I pulled him into my arms for the last time, when his body had a final taste of my cherry-flavored lips, I knew it had to be done. I laid him flat on the table and exposed him to the air, I gave him kisses on the lips and traced the outline of his face. From his fair skin and his unkempt hair to his strong jawline and his oceanic eyes, I could make out every detail if I wanted to.

From there, I moved down to his neck and his broad shoulders. I drew along each and every one of his ribs, followed my fingers down the nerves of his arms. I placed my head on his chest and stayed as the warmth left every part of him. Tears were shed, but I knew it would be worth it in the end once I did my part. So, I went straight to work.

I took him apart, making sure to treat every part of him with care. I peeled back his skin as attentively as I could, letting it rest on the floor as a bed of preparations. As I interlocked mine with his, I severed each of his fingers and coated them in a cozy layer of wax, arranging them in a circle with flames on their tips. By then, I could take it in, a familiar smell of ember of passion.

Once I covered my hand in his intoxicating wine, I knew I was close to done. I drew a heart in the center to finish it off, sitting in place and waiting for him to take me as his pen, as his one and only love. I wore his hand for him to take it and write a story of our name. Recollections of all the time we had together—from every first to every last, from every date to anniversary. Physical sensations, mental stimulation, and everything in between. The taste of his lips and the touch of his skin, the grip of my waist and the beating of my heart. I could feel everything he felt, I could see everything he saw. Remaining in a pool of him was a beauty unlike any other.

When I was done, we came to be: a tale to tell our everything. Every heartfelt experience, every moment we had together and apart, he made sure to put down all that we are. We are partners who long for each other, who cannot stand a second without each other. Out of desperation, we went to stand the sands of time by showcasing what it means to express what we have. I did not kill that man, and he is very much alive. We will last until the end-times, a story for the ages.

I love him, sir. I love my dear Jackson so, so much."