HOME | DD

Description

(This is part thirteen of a series of images accompanied by parts of a story. The story largely features the SCP Universes' Plague Doctor Character 049. You can read the story or just enjoy the pictures. Thank you for viewing.)

There came a knock at the door. At first, he was annoyed by the interruption. He patted his patient on the head and went to retrieve the delivered item.

Crackers, he told his colleagues he didn’t need food but every other day a small quantity was offered. It really was rather nice of them. One of many signs they wanted to believe in his quest, wanted even, to be his friends.

He opened the box to check for welcome contraband, pulling out the wrapped packs and finding a carefully cushioned bluish-gray egg. It was only slightly larger than a dove’s egg, and had a noticeable dark spot. It also appeared to be hatching. Seized by a sudden concern for the contents of the egg he headed over to a lab table, cleared a space and placed it on a gauze cushion. He covered the cushion with an empty wastebasket, forming a crude cage. The basket was clean. The Doctor always cleaned his baskets.

So as not to overstress the egg, he turned off the fume hood over his larger still. He was eager to prove to his colleagues that their tiny clone was the issue of another. How dare they accuse him of abandoning his children!

He gazed fondly at his latest masterwork and was vexed to see that the man was chewing his arm. Some kind of activity was needed to discourage the compulsion. 049 brought his patient a newspaper. “Let’s see if you can read, my friend.”

Description

(This is part thirteen of a series of images accompanied by parts of a story. The story largely features the SCP Universes' Plague Doctor Character 049. You can read the story or just enjoy the pictures. Thank you for viewing.)

There came a knock at the door. At first, he was annoyed by the interruption. He patted his patient on the head and went to retrieve the delivered item.

Crackers, he told his colleagues he didn’t need food but every other day a small quantity was offered. It really was rather nice of them. One of many signs they wanted to believe in his quest, wanted even, to be his friends.

He opened the box to check for welcome contraband, pulling out the wrapped packs and finding a carefully cushioned bluish-gray egg. It was only slightly larger than a dove’s egg, and had a noticeable dark spot. It also appeared to be hatching. Seized by a sudden concern for the contents of the egg he headed over to a lab table, cleared a space and placed it on a gauze cushion. He covered the cushion with an empty wastebasket, forming a crude cage. The basket was clean. The Doctor always cleaned his baskets.

So as not to overstress the egg, he turned off the fume hood over his larger still. He was eager to prove to his colleagues that their tiny clone was the issue of another. How dare they accuse him of abandoning his children!

He gazed fondly at his latest masterwork and was vexed to see that the man was chewing his arm. Some kind of activity was needed to discourage the compulsion. 049 brought his patient a newspaper. “Let’s see if you can read, my friend.”