The Mourner: a fan fiction SCP

I am an agent of the Foundation. I’m writing this as fiction, as is allowed under our guidelines, So think of this as an imaginary story.

Reports of a humanoid anomaly appearing and then disappearing started coming in a couple of weeks ago.

In some ways, my job is a little like the people involved with Project Blue Book many years ago who looked into reports of aliens for the US navy.

Like them, we get a lot of reports that don't turn out to be our concern - ordinary people or objects that got mistaken as something not ordinary.

Unlike them, though, we don’t just log the ones we can't explain, rather the reverse. It is the unexplained that is our focus.

So it was in this case, once we were able to eliminate any non-anomalous explanation, we really began digging.

The real breakthrough came when we realized there was a common element in all the places this anomaly appeared - it had manifested at places where amnestics had been used by the Foundation, because a known SCP had killed civilians there.

Once we knew that, we used an algorithm to figure out where it would appear next, and me and my team were assigned to go to that location.

At the same time it had appeared in other locations, there was a shimmer, and then the anomaly was there.

It resembled a human woman, about five and a half feet tall, wearing a long black dress and a veil over the face. It stood in silence in front of the door of a house - a house that our records showed that the occupants had been killed by an anomaly and where we had afterward used amnestics to remove the memory of the event.

Then it turned to face me, and said “I see you, foundationer”

“You know about the foundation?” I asked.

“The foundation created me. Not on purpose, but your people are responsible for me.” it said.

“How So?”

It pointed at the house, and said, “People died here. An anomaly killed them. But then you made everyone who survived forget.”

“To protect them. Most people can’t cope with what we deal with”

“Perhaps. But in so doing, you made an ... emptiness. An absence of mourning. And so I exist, I come, and I mourn for them.”

“Well, I need you to come with us.” I said.

“Your weapons cannot affect me. Nothing in this world can. I’m ... just an echo. Grief must be acknowledged. And so I continue.” it said, and then vanished.

So I wrote up my report, and my superiors are discussing what we should do.

I find myself hoping we can just let it be. Let it be just a story, about how grief might outlive the griever.

And maybe someday, it will have made its last visit, and be needed no more.

Or at least that’s what I would say, if this was a real event, but of course it isn’t.

It's just an imaginary story.

Right?

End.