Diary of Paul Martin, recovered among other personal belongings
August 22nd, ████
Greg can be a jerk sometimes. It’s nice having a roommate who is gone three quarters of the time, but he has a bad habit of just walking out with stuff. He never steals, but sometimes he’s tossing stuff in a bag so he can fly out and to a shoot in some desert, and he just doesn’t pay attention to what he’s grabbing. So I get up, find a note saying he got a call to fly out at 6:30 a.m. and take pictures of some town that got bombed. Wonderful. So I go along, getting ready for work, and my damn shoes are gone. How the hell can you accidentally take a man’s shoes, I ask you? They’ll never fit him, so I hope he’s got a spare set.
Left a voice mail for him, told him to send them back if he’s going to be a long time. I wouldn’t mind normally, just those were brand new! Last time he took something of mine, I got back pants just coated in dirt and blood from some jungle in the middle of nowhere. I had to throw them out, they stank so bad.
Work was ok, slow as hell. Didn’t see Jim in the office today, apparently he’s been out sick. I’m so used to seeing him across the hall, the whole day felt off. His desk seemed really empty too…god I hope we’re not downsizing.
August 23rd, ████
Came home today to a message from Greg. Says he doesn’t have my shoes, but he’s still unpacking. I have to wear my old pair that’s falling apart, so I was a little pissed. Left a message for him to just keep the damn things. I think I’m still worked up from work today, I shouldn’t take it out on him.
I came in to work, all worried that someone would notice my feet, and I find the whole office buzzing. Apparently Jim’s house blew up. I mean it freaking EXPLODED, just a crater left. It was all over the news, happened some time last night I guess. Nobody knows what happened to Jim, he might have been inside. The cops are apparently pretty tight-lipped over it, but the word is Jim had a meth lab in his basement, and something went wrong.
What the hell? Jim? a METH LAB?? He could barely make coffee right! Still…it’s not like I knew him all that well, just “that guy” at work…he has been acting really weird lately. God…you just never can tell, can you? They’re still looking into it, but most people think Jim was in the house.
They already cleared off his desk, can you believe it? Can’t even let the dust settle, and the corporate gears just keep turning. I’m going to bed, my feet hurt and I’m still just shocked
August 24th, ████
I found my damn shoes today. they were right in front of the door…I mean right where I always leave them. How the hell did I miss them for two days? What the hell? I called Greg and apologized for snapping on him. Haven’t heard from him yet. I just don’t get how I didn’t see them right freaking there!
They found Jim, or at least they think they did. He was apparently in the house when it blew. The funeral is tomorrow, I don’t know if I’ll go. I didn’t really know him that well…still; I did work with him for years. I don’t know, I guess I’m still getting my head around all this. Everyone at work is really quiet, it feels strange.
I spend all that time looking for my shoes, and now I’m having problems with them. They feel funny, too hard and they pinch a little. I bet it’s because I’ve been wearing my old blown-out pair, gotta get used to them again. I tore holes in my new socks, and my toes are kind of red…that’s all I need, some damn fungus.
August 25th, ████
This whole day has been weird. First, I couldn’t find a bunch of my shirts. I swear I hung up a bunch of them yesterday, but they’re all gone. I had to dig one out of the dirty clothes, and even that was weird. The first three I grabbed had holes all over them. If I have freaking moths or some kind of bug, I’m going to kill Greg. He’s done this before, brought home some kind of virus or critter by accident, and then we have to spend weeks getting rid of it. I can’t think of what I did with my shirts though, how the hell could they all just be gone?
Ok, so then I manage to get out the door, and I realize its trash day. So I go out back, and the freaking trash can is crawling with these bugs! I mean just covered with them, tiny little things, kinda brown and really fast. I walked up to try and see them closer, and they all just ran off the trash and off into the grass. Looked kinda like mites or something…probably just some kind of ant or something I’ve never seen. Anyway, I go to take the trash down, and these little bugs have freaking eaten out the bottom of the trash can! Tore open all the bags too, so it just dumped everywhere. Had to shovel it all into a spare can. If I see those things again, I’m going to stomp them.
Then, to top it off, I had a freaking bee sting me. At least I think it was a bee…I was at lunch, and suddenly I had this sharp pain on my ankle. I jumped up and started shouting, and it just kept hurting worse and worse. I ripped off my shoe because I thought it was trapped or something. My skin was so raw, even bleeding a little bit, and my sock had a big hole around the heel…and suddenly I realize everyone in the freaking restaurant is staring at me. I paid quick and got the hell out…I feel like such an idiot. Hopefully tomorrow will be better…I think I need to get out more, go relax.
I didn’t go to Jim’s funeral. It was closed casket…apparently he was in bad shape. I think I need to request a leave…I just feel worn out. This whole day has been screwed up.
August 26th, ████
To hell with this, I am cracking the hell up, and I am going on vacation. The damn stools are missing from the kitchen, all my shirts are gone, and my shoes were in the sink this morning. Either I am sleep-redecorating, going insane, or someone is messing with me. Whichever it is, I am not dealing with this anymore. I called in, and I am leaving today. Going to a hotel by the lake, and just relax a few days. Greg is back tomorrow, and I’m letting him deal with this crap.
I bought new shirts, pants, shoes, everything. Screw this place; see you when you’re sane.
[NOTE: Text in the following section is nearly illegible. Interpretation and editing done by Central Records. Original text can be viewed on request.]
September 1st, ████
WHAT THE HELL??! I think Greg is dead, oh god ooh go[illegible]r them, I can still HEAR THEM!!! I came home today, and it was late[illegible]dark out, and I came in. Every light was off, and I saw Greg on the couch over on the other side. He looked like he was sleeping, [illegible]p. So I turned on the light, and the couch and Greg melted. I mean they just melted, like a pile of snow on the sun, and it was all these little bug things, and they just SURGED at me, like a wave, and stone silent the w[illegible]n and I hid, I hid in my room and I can’t get the hell out of here, and I hear them picking at the door, but they can’t get in. I have every light in here on, and it seems to keep them back. One slipped under the door and stared at me, and I screamed at it and it ran back. I can hear them in the walls, chewing and crawling everywhere. When [illegible]
September 3rd, ████
My name is Paul Martin, and I live at ████████████. I have been trapped in my bedroom for almost two days. Small…things have taken over everything else. They have been trying to get to me for this entire time. Light appears to scare them, and I’ve kept all the lights on. They have started to attack the wiring in the walls, and I think I the lights will go out very soon. I think they got Jim first, then came home with me from work. they seem to copy things, and then take over. They killed Greg, I’m sure of it. Nobody has been around…can’t even get people to look up from the street. I’m going the throw this out the window, and then I am making a run for it. I am not going to die here.
Notes: Diary recovered from rubble of the █████ Building. SCP-236 contained and transported by Agents operating under FBI cover. “Meth Lab” story presented in explanation of the explosion. No human remains recovered from blast area.