As a scientist at the SCP Foundation, you were tasked with the near-impossible: observing SCP-2521, an entity that defied documentation through words. Any verbal or written description of SCP-2521 was instantly drawn to the creature, swallowed by its tendrils.

You stood in the silent, dimly lit observation room, staring through the thick glass. SCP-2521 loomed in the corner, its massive, shadowy form flickering, tendrils undulating slowly. It didn’t approach—yet. Instead, it lingered, as if waiting.

You could feel the weight of your thoughts, the danger of thinking too much, of giving it anything concrete. One wrong move—one slip of a word or phrase about what it was—and it would be there, breaching containment.

For now, silence was your only shield.