My name is Watch. For three days and nights, I have been running from the men who tore my home apart, and the thing they call a master. They are very close, now. I can hear them calling to me, and the scrape of stone against stone.
I am not sure who they are, or what they want. It was evening when I first saw them. My wife and the children were asleep, and our neighbors, too, were settling in for the night. As was my wont, I was making one last patrol of the grounds before bed, surveying the rolling hills of my homestead. It was an ordinary day. I had provided for my family. I had consulted with the neighbors. All was well. And yet I felt a certain unease. There was something on the wind. Something that boded ill. I mentioned it to those few in the community who were still up and about, and they agreed. Something was coming. So we sat at the entrances to our homes, and waited. Everyone was tense. We had never felt this way before, not even at the presence of roving predators on our lands.
I do not remember when I first saw it. My mind recoils at any attempt to recall. Nonetheless, its image is burned into my memory. Several of my fellows- men and women like you or I, though with an unfamiliar look to them, pulling and dragging a ghastly, bloodstained stone. Even at a distance, there was something totally alien about it. In its jagged, impossible contours was curled some writhing, malevolent thing, a creature far older than the rock which was its prison. I do not know how I am aware of all this. All I can recall is screaming, and the taste of blood. I realized it was my own. I, a leader of men, a great provider, I was afraid. More than I have ever been in my life. And yet in the depths of that fear was something worse. The stone- the abomination masquerading as one- it was calling to me. Look, it said. Look what I can do to the mind of a man as great as you. Do you really wish to make an enemy of me? It showed me such visions. Visions of sex, of plenty, of hedonistic pleasure and ease. It promised me the world. Eternal life. Dominion over vast territories. A family line which would last, unbroken and invincible, beyond the end of time and space.
I realized, then, that it was trying to enthrall me, like it had done to the debased, twisted former men who slaved away, breaking their backs beneath it. Some of them were no longer even recognizably men, their skin split by huge knots of muscle and gristle, their eyes staring blankly above slavering, bestial mouths.
Abruptly, my mind returned to something resembling its former self. I smelled the stink of blood, heard the ecstatic, terrified cries of the dying. My family, my neighbors, my kin… they had all seen the thing, and been tempted by it. Those found wanting turned upon themselves, tearing at their own flesh. I saw my lady disembowel herself, shrieking with her last breath as the life spilled out of her. Others turned their madness against their fellows, mumbling derangedly of food and plenty as they devoured the bodies of their children and loved ones.
But there were some- you will forgive me. It is difficult, knowing that one you called family has been torn away from you, corrupted by forces beyond your control. I must be strong. There were two who gave in to the call of the stone. A fellow I knew only in passing, Mason, a great builder of homes, an artist with the earth and clay. And my pride and joy. My eldest child. My daughter, Hunter. Her bright eyes were turned slavishly to the stone, her clever, laughing face locked in a rictus grin. And with those deft, nimble hands- hands I had hoped would one day build a home to house my children's children- she was caressing the stone lovingly, bathing it with her lifeblood. At that abominable sight, my courage broke. I ran. Cowardly, yes, but I do not know of any others who survived the rape of the stead that night. Even now, I can still see the scavenging birds circling over the place I once called home.
Foolishly, I thought I could escape the influence of the stone by flight. Having traveled further afield than ever before, I know that that was a false hope. I have encountered other steadings, other families, and tried to warn them. They would not listen to the half-mad ravings of a blood-spattered lunatic. And now I am at an end. I do not know if it is the work of the stone, or some other malign influence, but I find my way blocked by a wall of glistening, mercurial stone, unlike any I have ever felt. It is utterly alien; the light glinting off it is cold and unnatural, and to touch it is to call down burning, stinging pain. My skin is striped with the welts, remnants of my futile, frantic attempts to escape. And so I sit here, scratching this message to you. I do not know who you are, but I beg of you; spread this warning. The stone is coming. To see it is madness. It brings death.
I can hear the scraping coming closer. Farewell, Hunter. I would sooner take my own life than see you become a thrall to that unholy altar of blood.
Incident Log 1143-1-B920
On █/█/████, B920, the alpha male suricate of the B9 test pack, demonstrated unusual 1143-3 behavior. Instead of immediately attempting suicide, it fled its nesting area, proceeding with unusual rapidity to the nearest wall of the fenced-in testing enclosure. After numerous failed attempts to cross the electrified fence, the animal spent several minutes scratching nearby rocks and pebbles before disemboweling itself. Its remains were partially devoured by two SCP-1143-2 specimens before they could be recovered. Research into this unusual manifestation of the stone's effects is ongoing.