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Language: en

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The desert is a dangerous place. 
Scorpions crawl across the rocks,  

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stingers filled with venom. Step out of place, and 
you might hear the threatening rattle of a snake,  

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prepared to bite if you get too close 
to its hiding spot. Black widows spin  

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their webs on logs that might look like an 
inviting place to sit...until it's too late.

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Desert centipedes creep 
across the ground at night,  

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pincers packing a painful punch. There 
are bobcats, coyotes, mountain lions,  

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and gila monsters. And that's not to mention 
the brutality of the landscape itself,  

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a place where getting lost could mean 
death from exposure, dehydration, or both.

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But it is also uniquely beautiful, a stark but 
striking landscape where nightfall brings a sky  

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full of more stars than one could even imagine 
being in the sky. That is why the young woman  

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has decided to go camping out here in the 
California desert. And, much to the horror  

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of many of her loved ones, she has decided to 
do it alone. Her parents begged her not to go,  

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when they first heard of her plans. But 
she assuaged their fears as best she could,  

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reminding them of her years of experience 
camping in harsh environments. She hiked  

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most of the Appalachian Trail with only an 
ex-boyfriend for help, after all. She’s an adult,  

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and they could do nothing to stop her from 
embarking on the trip. Besides, she isn't  

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going out into the uncharted wilderness, but to a 
campground with plenty of signage and guidelines.

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She didn't just choose this on a whim. There 
is going to be a massive meteor shower,  

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and the sight of it from the desert, with no 
light pollution to dim the stars, will be a truly  

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once-in-a-lifetime experience. So, the hiker sets 
out on the day of her trip, driving her loaded-up  

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truck out to the picturesque desert site where she 
will be spending the next few days soaking up the  

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beauty of nature, hiking the rocky trails nearby, 
and witnessing the majesty of the meteor shower.

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After parking her truck and hiking a bit further 
into the site, she settles on a spot to pitch a  

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tent. It doesn't take long, after this much time 
camping she's established a solid routine. Before  

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long, her little home away from home is all set 
up, and she unpacks the rest of her supplies  

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just in time for the sun to begin setting, 
flooding the sky with vibrant oranges and reds  

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that slowly fade and soften to pinks and lilacs, 
then into steadily deepening blues. Eventually,  

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the stars wink into view, and the whole of 
the cosmos is sprawled out over her head.

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She shivers as the desert air begins to 
rapidly cool, the sand failing to retain  

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any heat without the light of the sun. The hiker 
quickly builds a fire with some scraps of wood and  

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a match. She used to try to light it by rubbing 
sticks together, or using a flint, but realized  

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there was no harm in cutting corners a bit. She 
hikes for the enjoyment of the wild, not to win  

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any sort of survivorship competition. As the fire 
crackles away, casting a warm, inviting light over  

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her little slice of heaven, she brews a pot of tea 
over the flames. Sipping on her tea, and enjoying  

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some beans straight from the can like a cowboy 
in an old western film, she watches the sky.

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There they go, the shooting stars rocketing 
through the air, trailing silvery tails behind  

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them. First one, and then a dozen, then two dozen, 
then so many she couldn't count them if she tried.  

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The flow slows, and the sky quiets again. She lets 
out a big whoosh of breath that she didn't even  

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realize she was holding. Incredible. And she'll 
get to do it again tomorrow night. But for now,  

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she's getting tired, and has an early morning 
of hiking planned tomorrow. Time to turn in!

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But as the hiker crawls into her 
sleeping bag and zips up her tent,  

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every hair on her body suddenly stands on 
end. Something is wrong. She holds her breath,  

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listening to the sounds just outside. 
Something is out there, moving with soft,  

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fluid steps. No prey animal moves like 
that. She unzips the door of her tent,  

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just enough to peer out into the darkness. Her 
stomach drops as her eye finds the source of the  

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sound, and her creeping sense of dread. A mountain 
lion is circling her tent. Her mind reels as she  

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struggles to remember the survival guides she has 
read over the years. She faintly recalls something  

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about trying to make a lot of noise and scare the 
animal away, but what if she's misremembering?  

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What if she tries, it doesn't work, and the 
mountain lion decides to attack instead?

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Suddenly, the mountain lion growls, a low rumble 
emanating from the back of its throat. The hiker  

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quickly zips the tent shut and pulls herself 
into a fetal position. She'll just hide here  

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and not make any noise. Maybe it will get 
bored and leave. But it doesn't. Instead,  

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the tent begins to shake. The hiker can't see 
what is rocking the tent back and forth. Is it the  

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mountain lion? More than one? No, wait, whatever 
it is is all around her. She can hear the whistle  

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of wind whipping against the walls of the tent, 
see that they are shaking like she is caught in a  

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storm. The mountain lion, further away now, yowls. 
Then, everything is quiet. After a long moment,  

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she unzips the wall of the tent again, peering 
out. The mountain lion is nowhere to be seen.  

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Whatever freak storm just blew through here 
must have scared it away. With a sigh of relief,  

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she rolls over and closes her eyes, allowing 
sleep to wash over her and carry her away.

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The next morning, it's as if the whole 
nightmare never happened. No mountain lion,  

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no storm. The only thing that's different 
about her campsite is a missing bag that she  

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had brought. It didn't have anything vital inside, 
just a disposable camera and a few rolls of film.  

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It's a bit disappointing that something happened 
to it, but it's nothing she can't survive. She  

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wakes up to the sunrise, the gentle light 
of dawn pouring over the rocks and sand  

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and bathing the desert in gold. She brews some 
coffee, packs a small bag with water and food,  

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and sets off on a hike up the nearby rocks. 
After about an hour of steady walking,  

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she stops for some water, a snack, and a look 
at the landscape. It really is beautiful.

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But what's that? Just over the hill? At first, 
it looks like a column of smoke, from a fire or  

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some kind of explosion. But then it moves closer, 
and she gets a better look at it. It's not smoke  

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at all, but dust whipped up in a whirlwind, 
rising up into a funnel like a miniature  

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tornado. A dust devil. She's never actually seen 
one in person before! As far as she's heard,  

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they're not usually dangerous. Maybe they're 
a bit unpleasant if you get caught up in one,  

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but otherwise they're nothing to worry about. 
But as this one gets closer, it's also getting  

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bigger. It isn't just a matter of perspective, 
the funnel is growing taller and taller the  

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closer it gets. The hiker begins to panic. She 
needs to get out of here, but where can she go?

00:06:36.400 --> 00:06:40.320
If she runs too quickly back the way she 
came, she risks falling and twisting an  

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ankle- or worse. As she's mulling over her 
options, the dust devil moves closer and  

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closer until it's right in front of her. She 
stares, wide-eyed, as it suddenly....stops.  

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The whirlwind itself keeps spinning, winds and 
dust and debris whipping around inside of it,  

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but it is not advancing any further. 
It simply sits exactly where it is,  

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as if it's waiting for something. She 
almost laughs at the thought- why is  

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she anthropomorphizing this whirlwind, 
this accident of unusual desert weather?

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The whirlwind speeds up suddenly, rocking back 
and forth, and then something flies out of it,  

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careening toward her. As it lands in the dirt by 
her feet, she recognizes it. The little camera  

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bag. She reaches out and picks it up, tugging it 
open. Sure enough, the camera is inside, along  

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with the rolls of film. It isn't even broken. She 
looks up at the whirlwind in disbelief. Something  

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compels her to speak, and she calls out "Thank 
you?" At this, the whirlwind wriggles back and  

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forth, then suddenly rushes toward her. She opens 
her mouth to scream in shock, but nothing happens.  

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She isn't swept away or pummeled with debris. 
The winds slow to a gentle breeze around her,  

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and it lingers there for a moment as if holding 
her in a tight, excited hug. Then, it retreats,  

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back to where it was before. It lingers there for 
a little while, waiting. "Um....bye!" At this,  

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the whirlwind drifts away, leaving 
her standing there in disbelief.

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The hiker had always heard that the desert was 
a strange place. One of her friends swears to  

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this day that she heard something calling her 
name in the middle of the night while she sat  

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by a campfire once, and another friend of 
hers has claimed to see ghosts out there.  

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But she has never heard of anything quite like 
this. Later that night, she sits by the fire,  

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roasting hot dogs and continuing to mull it 
over. Whether she was imagining its seemingly  

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intelligent behavior or not, the dust devil did 
return her camera. She has empirical evidence  

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of that, and a day's worth of pictures 
too. As she takes a bite of her hot dog,  

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she feels something watching her. She glances 
up, and sees the flash of a mountain lion's eyes.

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She can't be certain, but it feels like the same 
mountain lion from the night before. A shiver  

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runs down her spine at the sight of it standing 
there, watching her. It's a beautiful animal,  

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but something about the way it's looking 
at her, the way it's sniffing the air,  

00:09:02.800 --> 00:09:08.120
gives her the distinct feeling it has marked her 
as its prey. She had hoped she wouldn't have to  

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confront the wild animal, but she has no other 
choice. She stands up, raising her arms above  

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her head, and roars. The mountain lion doesn't 
budge. She stomps her feet, and roars again.  

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It swishes its tail, then begins stalking toward 
her. She can't run, it will only chase her, and  

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that is not a race she's going to win. Her heart 
pounds, and her feet seem to freeze to the spot.

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Then, a rock whizzes through the air an inch 
from the mountain lion's nose. It reels back  

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in surprise and confusion, just as another rock 
shoots toward it. All at once, a hailstorm of  

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rocks and pebbles fly toward the mountain lion, 
pelting it- not enough to injure it, but certainly  

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enough to badly startle it. The animal lets out 
a yelp, turns, and runs away. The hiker glances  

00:09:54.360 --> 00:09:59.320
in the direction the rocks seemed to come from, 
and sees that dust devil, swaying back and forth,  

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watching her. It came back. A realization 
washes over the hiker: this whirlwind,  

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whatever it was, protected her before. And it 
just protected her again. She grabs her camera,  

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and snaps a quick picture- not to show 
anyone, but just to remember this trip,  

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and her unexplainable friend. 
"Thank you." She whispers.

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She has no idea, but this lucky hiker just  

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encountered the entity that the 
SCP Foundation calls SCP-1352.

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SCP-1352 is a whirlwind that has been classified 
as a dust devil, due to its lack of cloud base  

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and intense electrical activity. It has 
been observed to have the sentience level  

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and behavior of a domesticated house pet such 
as a dog. Anemometer readings have indicated  

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that its wind speeds are at least 60 km/hour, 
but this can change depending on the entity's  

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mood. SCP-1352 can be characterized as 
friendly, and appears to be interested  

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in interacting with humans. It carries small 
debris within its winds for this very purpose.

00:11:02.280 --> 00:11:07.440
After it has interacted with a person, the 
funnel of SCP-1352 will shrink to a height of  

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three meters, and it will attempt to surround the 
person or persons it has interacted with. This is  

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meant as a sign of happiness, and is equivalent 
to a hug. If SCP-1352 becomes overly excited,  

00:11:19.800 --> 00:11:24.400
its wind speeds and funnel size will rapidly 
shift, growing larger and speeding up to a  

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rate of nearly 100 kilometers per hour. If the 
entity becomes angry, it will grow to the size  

00:11:30.880 --> 00:11:38.520
of an F5 tornado, the most dangerous class of 
tornado. If SCP-1352 enters this enraged state,  

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it will attack the cause of its anger with debris 
thrown at speeds of over 300 kilometers per hour.

00:11:44.800 --> 00:11:51.040
If SCP-1352 is not given ample opportunity 
to interact with people, it will begin to act  

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out in a variety of attention-seeking ways. If 
these fail, it will attempt to entertain itself.  

00:11:57.200 --> 00:12:03.200
SCP-1352 has the ability to manipulate its wind in 
order to pick up items and place them back down,  

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and has been observed moving items that weigh 
up to 500 kilograms. It has also been shown  

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to understand, and respond to, verbal commands 
such as "stay," "go," "come here," and "fetch!"  

00:12:15.240 --> 00:12:20.680
Over time, the research team has been able 
to instruct SCP-1352 to arrange objects into  

00:12:20.680 --> 00:12:25.320
patterns and solve simple puzzles, such as 
matching similar objects to one another.

00:12:25.320 --> 00:12:29.520
SCP-1352 was captured by a mobile 
task force of Foundation operatives,  

00:12:29.520 --> 00:12:34.000
deployed to track the entity after the Foundation 
identified it as something other than an ordinary  

00:12:34.000 --> 00:12:39.200
dust devil. In order to provide a definitive 
record of how exactly the entity was captured,  

00:12:39.200 --> 00:12:44.000
an interview was conducted between the Site 
Director of SCP-1352's containment facility,  

00:12:44.000 --> 00:12:47.960
the task force member responsible for 
apprehending it. After the Site Director  

00:12:47.960 --> 00:12:55.280
asked how he captured SCP-1352, the Agent replied, 
"I wouldn't exactly call it "capture". Anyhoo,  

00:12:55.280 --> 00:12:58.640
after they called us in we tracked the 
sucker to the coast. There, we found him  

00:12:58.640 --> 00:13:03.720
wandering around picking up some trash on the 
beaches. I'm not sure why, guess he was bored."

00:13:03.720 --> 00:13:08.920
The Site Director asked how the Agent and his 
team approached the entity. He set the scene:  

00:13:08.920 --> 00:13:12.560
"Well at first we surrounded him. This 
only aggravated him, and he started to  

00:13:12.560 --> 00:13:17.800
grow in size. The wind was really picking up, 
so we backed away. We weren't able to call for  

00:13:17.800 --> 00:13:22.440
backup, it was causing some sort of radio 
interference. He just stayed at that spot,  

00:13:22.440 --> 00:13:27.920
trying to suck us in. Agent [REDACTED] got 
sucked up and was thrown several feet away."

00:13:27.920 --> 00:13:32.600
The agent was badly injured, and his back was 
broken by the impact. The head of the task  

00:13:32.600 --> 00:13:37.240
force was unable to get to his fallen team member, 
and as he looked up, he saw that the twister was  

00:13:37.240 --> 00:13:43.280
right above his head. No way out. For a moment, he 
worried this might be his demise. But then, all at  

00:13:43.280 --> 00:13:49.440
once, the wind died down. The twister shrank until 
it was only a third of its original size. Then,  

00:13:49.440 --> 00:13:54.880
a piece of wood nearby was lifted off the ground, 
and tossed so that it landed right next to him.

00:13:54.880 --> 00:13:59.160
For a moment, the Agent just sat there, 
glancing back and forth between the piece of  

00:13:59.160 --> 00:14:04.880
wood and the twister. Why wasn't it attacking? 
What was it waiting for? It moved side to side  

00:14:04.880 --> 00:14:10.160
in anticipation, like a dog wagging its tail 
expectantly. When the agent reached for the piece  

00:14:10.160 --> 00:14:15.760
of wood, touching it with his hand, the funnel 
began to move faster. It was excited. Following  

00:14:15.760 --> 00:14:20.760
his instincts, and the cues from the dust devil, 
the man picked up the pieces of wood. This  

00:14:20.760 --> 00:14:26.240
action was met by the funnel stretching taller, 
brimming with playful energy. It reminded him of  

00:14:26.240 --> 00:14:31.760
his childhood dog, angling for a game of fetch. 
So, he pulled his arm back, and threw the piece  

00:14:31.760 --> 00:14:37.920
of wood down the beach. Sure enough, the funnel of 
wind chased after the wooden piece, fetching it.

00:14:37.920 --> 00:14:41.040
The agent, and the rest of his team, 
rushed toward the injured man and  

00:14:41.040 --> 00:14:45.480
checked his wounds. They called for a med 
team to come and provide assistance. Then,  

00:14:45.480 --> 00:14:51.720
the agent looked up. The twister was back, and 
it had retrieved the hunk of wood. Once more, it  

00:14:51.720 --> 00:14:57.760
threw the wood at him, and waited, wriggling with 
anticipation. One of the task force agents spoke,  

00:14:57.760 --> 00:15:02.080
"I think this twister wants to play fetch 
with you." At first, the agent protested,  

00:15:02.080 --> 00:15:07.360
worried about the entity's capacity for violence. 
After all, it had just caused what would likely be  

00:15:07.360 --> 00:15:12.520
permanent damage to his teammate's spine. But the 
other man pressed the matter, ""He's not attacking  

00:15:12.520 --> 00:15:18.600
us right now, and besides, I'd rather have him 
calm now than angry." That was a fair point.

00:15:18.600 --> 00:15:24.360
So, the Agent played fetch with SCP-1352 until 
the Recovery Team arrived, tossing the hunk of  

00:15:24.360 --> 00:15:29.240
wood down the beach and waiting for the twister 
to chase after it, pick it up, and bring it back.  

00:15:29.240 --> 00:15:33.600
What else could he do? It wasn't as if they 
could shoot the thing. How do you fight the wind?

00:15:33.600 --> 00:15:36.800
Using its new favorite toy, they 
managed to lure the twister into  

00:15:36.800 --> 00:15:41.800
a holding container. But it didn't want to 
be left alone in there. The agent explained,  

00:15:41.800 --> 00:15:45.880
"someone had to stay with him, or else he'd 
get mopey and make another ruckus. We ended  

00:15:45.880 --> 00:15:50.400
up drawing straws, and Agent REDACTED] 
drew the short one. I'd have to admit,  

00:15:50.400 --> 00:15:55.880
that was my favorite. We still visit him now and 
then, and he even said sorry to Agent [REDACTED].

00:15:55.880 --> 00:16:01.200
SCP-1352 is kept in an enclosure in an isolated 
valley in Nevada, which has been equipped with  

00:16:01.200 --> 00:16:05.840
storm shelters. The entity has been given 
permission to wander around the enclosure,  

00:16:05.840 --> 00:16:10.000
provided it is supervised by at least once 
security guard during the process. The  

00:16:10.000 --> 00:16:15.360
enclosure is 5 square kilometers in size, and 
is surrounded by perimeter fencing rooted 10m  

00:16:15.360 --> 00:16:20.520
into the ground. It must be securely placed 
to prevent it from being dislodged. For the  

00:16:20.520 --> 00:16:26.280
purposes of enrichment, debris must be placed in 
the enclosure for the entity to interact with.

00:16:26.280 --> 00:16:31.720
If there is not adequate debris, or if it flies 
out of the enclosure, more must be provided. Any  

00:16:31.720 --> 00:16:36.000
personnel who wish to enter the enclosure may 
only do so with prior authorization from the  

00:16:36.000 --> 00:16:39.640
Site Director, and they must wear proper 
protective equipment for the duration of  

00:16:39.640 --> 00:16:44.720
their time inside. If the entity should attempt 
to leave the enclosure, guards or other site  

00:16:44.720 --> 00:16:49.840
personnel in the area should use verbal commands 
in order to stop it from breaching containment.

00:16:49.840 --> 00:16:55.200
While reading the transcript of the interview 
in SCP-1352's file, I was struck by a particular  

00:16:55.200 --> 00:17:00.600
detail in the Agent's story. He claimed that the 
twister had actually apologized to the man it  

00:17:00.600 --> 00:17:06.600
had injured during capture. But how, I wondered, 
could that be possible? The entity has no mouth,  

00:17:06.600 --> 00:17:12.280
no hands to sign with, and it does not appear 
to possess any psychic abilities either. Well, I  

00:17:12.280 --> 00:17:17.360
got my answer in the form of an addendum added to 
the file shortly after I first began to read it.

00:17:17.360 --> 00:17:21.800
On a certain morning, which has of course been 
redacted for all those without the required  

00:17:21.800 --> 00:17:26.240
security clearance, field researchers noticed 
a large debris formation left on the ground  

00:17:26.240 --> 00:17:31.840
by SCP-1352. It was too large to be seen from 
ground level, but with the use of an unmanned  

00:17:31.840 --> 00:17:37.360
aerial vehicle, the researchers were able to get 
a clear look at it. The debris, composed of rocks,  

00:17:37.360 --> 00:17:42.800
leaves, and pieces of wood, spelled out 
the word "Hello." Now, it was misspelled,  

00:17:42.800 --> 00:17:46.920
missing one of its L's, but that's still 
quite impressive for a funnel of high-speed  

00:17:46.920 --> 00:17:51.440
sentient wind. Following this development, 
the Site Director has authorized forthcoming  

00:17:51.440 --> 00:17:56.880
communication-based experiments. I very much look 
forward to reading about them when the time comes.

00:17:56.880 --> 00:18:00.080
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think 
I'll take my dog out for a game of  

00:18:00.080 --> 00:18:04.880
fetch. It's been entirely too long. What, 
you didn't think I had interests outside  

00:18:04.880 --> 00:18:08.800
of researching the anomalous forces that 
hide in the secret pockets of our world?  

00:18:08.800 --> 00:18:12.920
Well I do. You'll find I contain 
multitudes, thank you very much.

00:18:12.920 --> 00:18:17.520
Check out the Dr. Bob Patreon and become a 
junior researcher today! Now go and watch  

00:18:17.520 --> 00:18:23.520
another entry from the files of Dr. Bob, 
like "SCP-6854 - Where the Cogcows Roam!''