There's something to be said for boredom. In some instances, boredom can bring fresh ideas,

good ideas, ideas that can help people. That's why I joined the foundation in the first place,

to help people, to protect them. But after so many years doing the same thing, you start to yearn for more.

To help you give, in an indirect sort of way, day in and day out, becomes commonplace, ordinary.

And if you're like me, ordinary is not enough. It's never enough.

As time passed and my boredom grew, boredom with my job and my life in general,

I started thinking of ways I could be an extraordinary help to people.

And right around that time, I was assigned to SCP 3998, also known as the Wicker Witch.

I don't believe in God, but I couldn't shrug this off as coincidence.

When I learned of the Wicker Witch's anomalous powers,

I realized that my chance to be an extraordinary help to people had arrived,

and damned if I wasn't going to take that opportunity by the throat.

Standing outside the continued and damned if I wasn't going to take that opportunity by the throat.

Standing outside the containment chamber, I studied the Wicker Witch. She was little more

than a scarecrow now. What remained of her body was badly burnt, almost beyond recognition.

In addition, the ravages of time had not been kind to her corpse.

Her burnt and mangled arms were affixed with wicker and wire to a wooden cross made of two

branches. The crucifixion pose seemed fitting to me as I peered through the thick glass.

Her skin, burned to a black crisp hundreds of

years ago, was mummified. Her fingers, although intact, pointed in all different directions on

either end of the horizontal crossbeam. Her head hung down, skeletal face barely visible behind a

threadbare curtain of tangled black hair.

...