Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-XXXX is not and has never been contained, possessed, or acquired by the Foundation under any circumstances, and any and all attempts to do so or deny otherwise should be met with hostility. SCP-XXXX is currently in possession by Samuel C. Parker and Co., a mining company located in ……… Arizona. The names, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses of all employees of Samuel C. Parker and Co. are to be distributed to any Foundation personnel erroneously assigned to SCP-XXXX.
Regular contact must be made with Samuel C. Parker and Co. to ensure the following facts are true:
-The facilities in question are not fitted with a door capable of being locked.
-employees must keep a 1 km distance between personal vehicles and their main worksite.
-All car keys are to be kept hidden away on the vehicle itself within an easily accessible location of their choice.
-Currently, Samuel C. Parker and Co. regularly inspects it's employees to ensure compliance.
-employees of Samuel C. Parker and Co.
-Only employees in managerial positions at the company have direct knowledge of SCP-XXXX's presence and/or existence.
As of 3/19/XX, SCP-XXXX has been hidden in the main office of Andrew Dirkson, Vice President of Samuel C. Parker and Co. and contained in a 5cm x 2cm x 5cm locker with an envelop, containing a contract signed by him in invisible ink declaring Mr. Dirkson's ownership of SCP-XXXX (the signature was allegedly to test against potential forgeries). Mr. Dirkson is entirely unaware of SCP-XXXX's nature or existence.
As of the aforementioned date, Samuel C. Parker and Co. are in no need of SCP-XXXX whatsoever.
SCP-XXXX is a set of nine keys, attached to a black, pear-shaped key chain. It is unknown which, if any, vehicles, doors, or other devices are fitted to the object. When any subject acquires SCP-XXXX, they will lose this set of keys at the first opportunity to use them. At this point, the object's anomalous effect takes hold.
The subject will continue to lose trivial but essential objects and possessions as they require them—for example, a missing coffee cup, or a missing pen. The nature of the objects will gradually escalate relative to the needs of the subject losing them. (See Addendum 1-A)
Any and all other individuals within the subject's social circle will be completely oblivious to these changes, insisting that their lives had always been that way. Subjects under the effects of SCP-XXXX will often seek out help from their situation upon realizing the effects of SCP-XXXX. However, attempts to do so will result in further deterioration of the subject's existing resources.
SCP-XXXX was first reported in possession by Brian XXXX, a resident of XXXXXXX, Ontario, Canada. A diary in his possession was found at the location of his home on 305 D* Blvd. The following diary was found and handwritten from May 23, 2XXX, to October 14, 2XXX:
Alright, this has been getting just stupid. I feel like such an idiot. I lost that brand new pair of keys last week, and ever since then, it's been awful. I don't know what's wrong with me, but it's like everything I have is going missing. I lost the stapler at work today, and my paperclips were gone. I mean, I put them right there. Oh well. Handing in loose papers isn't the end of the world. If Mike loses them, it's his fault, not mine.
Seriously? I get off work and try to pull out the credit card, and it's gone. I've got the number written down somewhere, but I mean really. This is actually getting really weird. Either way, girlfriends' getting really pissed about the whole thing. She really doesn't get it. No one does.
Well, since I can't drive without keys, I've been taking the bus to work. Course, when you realize at the last minute that you don't have your bus pass on you, that kind of sucks, cause I was late for work, again. And…Jesus, I really didn't even know what to expect next. I go in, and normally I've got this little Doctor Who bobble head, the Tom Baker one. A bunch of papers, notes, and stuff I need for reference. All gone. Name plaque, gone. I ask my supervisor what's going on, if I've been fired, and says he's never met me in his life!
He asks if I'm interested in the new IT position we've got open, and I said, that's my job! I work here. He says if I want to apply, I'll have to talk to the front desk to fill out an application. What the hell is his problem? I've worked there for ten years. I'm a goddamn veteran.
Everything sucks. I have no idea what I'm gonna tell my wife. She'll kill me.
I hope to god she does.
Oh god oh god no. Please no. I don't know why, please god why did you have to do this? Where is my family? Where the fuck is my family?!
I get home, the door's open, so I assumed they were there. My wife's car is in the driveway (can't drive it though without keys, ha ha fucking ha). Didn't leave a note. Phone is missing, just my luck, so I can't call her. Kids are always at home by now. My own cell phone is gone too, oh my god, imagine fucking that! Lemme guess, there's no food in the fridge.
Well may as well turn the TV on check the news out. Oh, sorry, no remote. Or TV.
Guys, I'm living in a cold war nuclear shelter, without the nuclear shelter.
Found a few hot dogs in the fridge, at least I haven't lost that. All the pans are gone, as is the microwave. Attempted to find new means. Just stuck the fucker on the stove. Burnt a big greasy stain but whatever. Hopefully won't run out too soon.
Spent my fourth of July weekend hunting out back for rats, bunnies, anything. Foods all out. GOddamn hunggry. Please
I pray to whatever mad god is doing this. I've never believed in him, but lord I ask you a favourI'm really afraid this might be happening to me. If I believe in you, you'll goyou're going to die god.
Die god die
I can bareely sleep im so hungry. Anyway, odd stuff last nightactully, nothingnormelly get's pretty busy at this time, there's a park nearby, they always have july 4 celebrations. This time, nothing. Real quiet. No noise, no fire works. Must've moved the celebrations elsewhere.
Quiet voices quiet
Lovely bunny meat. Tasty, but salt and pepper is missing. Ah.
Nothing here. Visitors—oh! Wonderful. Not today. Won't be coming back. Good riddance.
The carpet is missing. Shitt this woods gross. Sleeping on the flor is a bitch, all those blisters.
Remembered I live at home, soI can leave if i want. Going for a walk, everything is empty. No one here, just a couple people here and here and there. One guy gave me the finger. I would have gladly taken it from him, if it made him realize even a bit of what I was going through.
Tried posing as a hobo, and it seemed to work. Got a juicy burger out of it. At least still have somewhere to sleep tonight.
My gogdam house is gone! It was just here an hour ago. Must have left it somewhere. It'll turn up eventually. Least I still got my diary pen.
[all additional entries written in a red substance confirmed to be blood]
LOST PEN. FUCK.
OH WELL, AT LEAST I FOUND THE KEYS.
7/7/XX was the final diary entry from Brian XXXXX No further attempts to locate him, members of his extended family, or his property have proved fruitful. His former home address at 305 DXXXX Blvd is currently an empty lot for lease to local building contractors.