The Harvest | SCP-8916

1899. Wake up, darling. It's a special day. Mary Green opened her eyes to find her mother gently shaking her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as her mother smiled. What day is it? She mumbled. It's May 15. Mary stared blankly at her mother, as her mind fumbled to catch up. Oh. Mary's eyes widened, and she jumped out of bed, making her mother laugh. The harvest! That's right. Now hurry up and get dressed. I have breakfast ready. Mary flung on the dress her mother had laid out for her, her little fingers gliding over the buttons. She nearly bumped into her brother on the landing, and the two raced each other down the stairs, their giggles echoing throughout the house. The streets were already packed by the time they finished breakfast. It seemed like Olive Henterville had come out for the occasion. Mary smiled at her friends and neighbors as they walked through town, the crowd thickening as they neared Main Street. The shops were closed, but the street was lined with vendors selling everything from straw hats to penny candy. Everywhere you looked, children waved American flags high in the air, and a band played outside the church, the drums beating in time to Mary's bounding heart. She spotted her teacher, Mrs. Parrish, who was handing out flags. She flounced over to her with a smile on her face. Hello Mary, don't you look pretty today? Mrs. Parrish exclaimed as she gave her a flag. Well, it is a special occasion. Mary replied, giving her flag a little wave. It certainly is. Her teacher agreed with a wink. Mary didn't actually know what was special about the harvest, but she was excited to find out. Everyone had been talking about this day for months, and so far, it was certainly living up to her expectations. Mary spent the morning dancing around with her friends, chatting about what the day might bring, and eating as much candy as she could stuff into her mouth. She was just about to suggest a game of tag when the music suddenly stopped. The crowd stilled as a trumpet blasted three short notes into the air. Mary exchanged a confused glance with her friends, but before she could ask what was happening, she heard her mother calling for her. Other parents began calling for their children, and the friends dispersed as they gathered with their families. What's going on? Mary asked as her mother gripped her hand. We are going to hatch a till to have a picnic and celebrate the harvest. A picnic sounds fun. It will be. Her mother replied as the crowd began to move. If Mary thought the town was excitable before, it was nothing compared to the walk to the hill. She spotted her brother with a group of boys chanting, do the hill! Over and over again. Men led the way through town, while Mary and her mother remained near the back of the group. The chanting and laughter grew louder as they wandered through the southwest quarter. Here, the streets were dirtier, and the houses were run down and quiet. Each door was shut tight, drapes closed, and nobody joined the crowd. Mary spotted a dark face in a window, and she raised her hand to wave. But the girl disappeared behind the curtains. Her mother tugged her forward so hard she nearly tripped. Hurry up now! Her mother said sternly, even though they couldn't go faster than the crowd. A woman's shriek ripped through the air ahead of them, and Mary frowned. But the sound was followed by raucous laughter. Just excitement. Her mother assured her. Mary smiled back, but it felt forced. The scream sounded more like a frightened woman than an excited one. But nobody else seemed concerned. So she shrugged it off and kept walking, excited to reach Hatchett's Hill. 2025. Lila Freeman hated May 15th. While she loved her town, she dreaded the harvest every year. Her friends bragged about the fun they had, the candy they ate, and the memories they made, all while Lila remained stuck in her room. Every year was the same. No matter how much she begged her mother to let her attend the festival, the answer was always no. But when she asked why not, the answer was, She'll understand when you're older. Well, Lila was a whole eight years old now, and she still didn't understand. But this year was going to be different. This year, she would be there, whether her mother liked it or not. When the crowd turned onto her street, Lila snuck out the back door and entered the throng. The noise was deafening as everyone shouted and laughed, waving their flags as they made their way to the hill. Lila had no choice but to walk with the group, lest she be trampled. For a moment, she felt like an ant in a swarm. Fear gripped her, sudden and tight, as she glanced at the sea of strangers. It was too late to turn back. She couldn't even see her house anymore through the press of bodies. She fought the urge to scream, knowing that no one would hear her anyway. She turned at the sound of her name, and her friend Paige suddenly appeared at her side. Lila nodded, too overwhelmed with relief to speak. Paige held out a handful of toffees. I saved you, son. Lila grabbed the candy, and any regrets from a moment ago disappeared as the sugar dissolved on her tongue. The girls locked arms as Hatchett's Hill came into view. 1899 The crowd spread out as they reached the hilltop and surrounded the sycamore tree. Daddy! Mary shouted as she spotted her father near the base of the tree, a rope in his hands. The rope swayed back and forth as he waved at her. Hello, sweetheart. What's that for? Huh, you'll see. He replied mysteriously. You would better go back to your mother. It's about to begin. Mary nodded and returned to her mother's side, her curiosity peaked. She stared up at the huge tree, its branches towering above the crowd. The trunk was nearly as wide as their house, and the boughs hung heavy with fresh fruit. A commotion sounded near the base as a colored man was shoved against the tree. Mary gasped as his head smacked against the bark, and a red mark appeared on his forehead. She turned to her mother. What are they doing to that man? Shh, just watch. Her mother replied. Mary returned her gaze to the tree, where the man was now surrounded by the familiar faces of her father and her friends' fathers. The rope was now hanging from a branch and dangling down just above their heads. It looked like the rope swing she added home, but where was the swing? The man was passed around the small group, shoved from one side to the next like a violent game. The crowd around her watched eagerly, their mouths open as they cheered. But Mary didn't understand the game. What were they cheering for? The crowd erupted as Richard Davis landed a punch at the colored man's gut, making him double over in pain. Mary was more confused than ever. They were always taught not to hit people. But why were they hitting that man? None of it made any sense. Her heart ached for the man as William Johnson slapped his hand across his face. Blood spurred it from the man's nose, and Mary looked away. Her stomach was roiling, and she felt hot all over. She tugged on her mother's hand. Mama, I want to go home. Not now, dear. But I don't feel good. Her mother glanced at her with mild concern. You need to see this. Just keep watching. Mary forced herself to look at what was happening under the tree. Please! The man's cry rang out over the crowd and pierced Mary's heart. Stop! But the men didn't stop. Tears ran down her face as she watched her pastor slap the man's cheek. Her father punches throat. Why are they doing this? Her mother cocked her head. Don't you see? He's colored. This is a celebration of our heritage, darling. People like them don't belong here. When each man in the circle had their turn, and the colored man could barely stand on his own, they made him stand on a stool beneath the tree. Mary watched with a sinking feeling as her father wrapped the rope around the man's neck and tightened it. The crowd was going wild now. Everybody from her teacher to her mother and her brother raising their fists in the air and cheering in celebration. Where she looked, American flags were being waved like never before. Mary couldn't tear her eyes away from the man on the stool. His big brown eyes swept the crowd in desperation as if looking for a single friendly face. When his gaze met Mary's, he paused. She mouthed the word, sorry, hoping he understood. Then they pulled away the stool. The man struggled for a heart-wrenching moment before going still, his body swaying in the breeze. Mary turned away, but her mother forced her to look at him to see what her family and her town had done. That's justice, Mary, her mother said. Mary nodded as if she understood. Can we go home now? Home? Honey, the picnic is about to start. The last thing Mary wanted was food. But she forced herself to smile as the townspeople set up blankets and unloaded baskets of sandwiches, puddings, and pies. 2025 The tree was bigger than Lila had imagined. Despite spending her whole life in Henterville, she had never been allowed up Hatchett's Hill. Apparently, the tree was nothing to brag about on ordinary days. But today was no ordinary day. On May 15th every year, the tree grows full of fruit. By the next day, the branches were empty again, all traces of the harvest gone. When Page asked their teacher why the fruit only grew on that day, Mrs. Stewardson cocked her head with a frown. Nobody really knows. The harvest has been a part of Henterville's heritage for over a century, and it has become an important part of this town's identity. Is it magic? Lila asked in an odd voice. Mrs. Stewardson laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Maybe. As Lila looked at the tree now, with large brown fruit hanging from every branch, it certainly felt like something from a fairy tale. With a stunning view of the town from on top of the hill, she could imagine a wise wizard trapped in the bark, looking over the town's people like a caring father. She could almost see his face in the tree trunk. But the longer he looked, the more distorted his face became. The mouth was less of a smile and more of a frown. The eyes appeared crinkled, not from laughter, but from fear. A shiver ran through Lila, and she glanced away. Her mother always told her that she had too much imagination for her own good. Paige suddenly grabbed her hand and whisked her to a nearby picnic basket laden with fruit, cheese, and crackers. Aren't we going to eat the fruit? Lila asked. Oh, we are. Paige nodded. But it will take them a few minutes to start harvesting. Lila looked over to see a group of men installing ladders under the tree. Some of the younger ones scrambled up the rungs, empty baskets hanging over their arms. Soon, the large brown fruits were tossed through the air, and children gathered around the ladders to receive their fill. Paige and Lila joined the throng. Lila caught one in her hands, but another splattered onto Paige, staining her white dress red. Paige simply laughed as the blood-colored juice ran down her arms. She glanced at Lila with a mischievous smile, and she picked up another one to launch at her. It exploded all over Lila's shirt, the pink flesh splattering in all directions. One of the children shouted as they began hurling the fruit at each other. Lila giggled as she ran around the tree, dodging and throwing the leathery spheres as more hung down above her, gently swaying in the breeze. How could her mother have kept her from such fun all these years? It was downright cruel to keep her locked up while everyone else had the time of their lives. When the children were sufficiently covered in fruit guts and out of breath, they sat down to eat. 1899 The sun was high in the sky as the band struck up another tune, and some of the crowd got up to dance. Mary's mother grabbed her hand, and they joined the circle, swaying in time to the song and circling around the great sycamore tree. Mary wore a smile, but she stumbled as she neared the man hanging from the branch. No one else even seemed to remember he was there, except for the occasional teenager who spat in his direction. The atmosphere was light and festive, and everyone seemed to be having a great time, except the man on the tree, of course. His arms and legs hung limp, and his mouth was partly open, the pink of his tongue peeking through his lips. He wore a thin shirt, and his pants had clearly been mended plenty of times, but he wore a small cross pendant around his neck. His eyes were half open, and Mary felt them watching her as she raised her hands and clapped along to the music. She turned her gaze away and stared out at the town instead. It was spread out before them like a group of doll houses. The streets were empty as everyone was here on the hill. The southwest quarter provided a stark contrast to the rest of the town. It looked like a black spot on a piece of white linen. Mary frowned as she examined the dilapidated buildings, and she couldn't help but think Henterville would look much better without them. She said as much to her mother, and her mother smiled. Exactly, sweetie. I'm glad you understand. Mary glanced between the hanged man and the rest of the celebration. Maybe she did understand the game after all. 2025. Lila hadn't taken particular notice of the fruit as she flung them around, but now she noticed how odd they were. She cradled a strange sphere in her hands, studying the strange lumps and the smooth brown skin. It matches you. Paige said as she held one up next to Lila's arm. Lila frowned. Paige was right. The fruit had a thick outer layer that looked exactly like her skin. But that wasn't the only strange thing. The fruit seemed to pulse in her palms as if it were alive. Lila felt strangely connected to it, like it was part of her. As she looked down at her clothes, still covered in the flesh and juices of the fruit, she felt dirty. Try a bite. Paige said as she dug her teeth into the skin, ripping it apart to expose the meat beneath. Lila glanced around her at everyone else, happily digging into the fruit. She shrugged and took a bite. The skin was tough and leathery, but the flesh was soft and juicy. The taste was like nothing she'd ever eaten before. What do you think? Paige asked, her eyes wide and eager. It's strange. Lila replied. Paige leaned forward as if waiting for her friend to say more, but Lila remained silent. Her stomach roiled as if in protest, and she carefully put the fruit down. Did you get used to it? Paige explained as she took another bite. Lila hesitantly brought the fruit to her lips again. It was still pulsing gently in her hands, but Paige studied her with her big blue eyes, and Lila didn't want to disappoint her friend. On the blanket beside them, Paige's parents were talking and laughing between bites. The boys who had been collecting the fruit were taking a break and munching on the fruits of their labor as if they'd never deserved anything more. Grumpy old man Henderson observed the scene with a strange twinkle in his eye, his usual frown absent. When he caught Lila looking at him, he cocked his head as if puzzled by her appearance. But when he saw the fruit in her hands and the missing bite, he did something no one had ever seen him do before. He smiled, then disappeared into the crowd before Lila could draw Paige's attention to him. But there was no mistaking what she'd seen. He'd seemed almost proud of her. It was no secret that the Freemans and many of their neighbors abhorred the harvest and refused to participate. She'd once overheard her mother and old man Henderson arguing over that very thing. But Lila wasn't her mother. She wasn't afraid to participate in Henterville's festivals and celebrate their town's heritage. She wasn't afraid to fit in and to eat the magical fruit from this sacred tree. In fact, she'd never felt more like she belonged than she did now as she ate and celebrated with her friends. Lila took another bite of the fruit, admiring the squish of the flesh as her teeth ripped into it. But she cried out as she bit down on something hard. She spat her mouth full out onto the grass to find a small pendant that must have been lodged in the fruit. She picked it up and held it in her hands. It was warm as if it had recently been worn. A strange feeling came over her as she stared at the small cross. But before she could say anything about it, Paige launched another fruit at her and the food fight began anew. Lila stuck the pendant into her pocket and joined the giggling children as they raced around the tree, ducking under the hanging fruit and lobbing the harvest at each other without a care in the world. SCP-8916 is a sycamore tree atop Hatchett's Hill in Henterville, Georgia that appears only 40 to 50 years old. Yet, historical records and photos place it there as far back as the 1800s. Each year on May 15th, it grows anomalous fruit, SCP-8916-A. Leathery, dark spheres about 4 to 6 inches wide, whose outer skin is genetically identical to human skin. When peeled, the fruit contains living human tissue, usually muscle, but sometimes heart, brain, or digestive tissue, that flexes and moves for hours after being harvested. The fruit often contains deformities, knots of flesh, and foreign objects such as teeth and all biological samples taken from them show blood cells exhibiting sickle cell disorder.