SCP mish-mash

Pico has a dream. He's wading chest-deep through a thick swamp. It smells like corpses very far along the decay cycle. He reaches a small island above the thick sludge and climbs onto it.

A single tree sits arching into the sky. On it's roots sits a black, nasty thing, the size of a large dog or a small horse. It wears a mask of the purest white, a face painted on.
"Hey, there," said the frog-thing, tilting its head. Pico was silent. (Or rather, his mouth would not allow him to speak.)
"Welcome to -"
The word was garbled and it made Pico's head feel like it was collapsing inward in multiple realities-
"But you can call it the swamp. I'm appi're'Hakal'Is. Most people call me Appi. I know you, and I know your adoptive father."

Pico didn't understand that for a moment.

"He's a rather interesting piece of shit, isn't he? Well, we're not here about that- You may ask one question." There was a moment of silence, and-
Pico immediately spat out, his muscles allowing him to form words;

"What is that?" 

He was indicating a Reddish-brownish stain carved into the roots of the tree, an impossible carving that couldn't be described or distinctly remembered.
It sat above a small hole, small enough for only a rodent to fit in.

"That," said Appi, "Is a very unpleasant little thing I made to keep a few things in check. It's not strong enough to keep them, but enough to deter them."
Pico couldn't respond to that.
"Anyway, So, I want to talk to you about someone very important to you."

Ramona?  

"No, not the girl."

Chara.

"Not the kid, either."

.... Ruiz.

 "Yep. See, he's a really big pawn and his whole being dead thing was more than a minor setback in my plans. If you've ever met an oracle- Oh, of course you haven't- anyway, prophecies are bullshit, pardon my french, and I want to know, what would you do for him? You may answer." Another moment. Pico's muscles relaxed.

"Anything," he said.

"Anything? Superb!" the frog stood. It chuckled.
"Well, I normally seal contracts with a kiss, but just this once, I'll let you off with this."

There was a moment where Pico was confused. Until the frog grabbed him in one sticky black paw and shoved him, face-first, into the hole too small for anything but a rodent.

he fell




and fell




and fell

and fell

and fell
and-

The universe passed by him, stars like fireflies alighting on his skin.
He saw faces he'd never seen, places he'd never been and would never go, alien worlds and people.
Then he saw people he did know. First people he'd met once, or seen on the street, or killed and maimed, then people he thought dead and people who-

He saw his parents.

He saw them and recognized them and he began to cry.
and cry.
and cry.

And then, he was submerged into cold water.

he felt his limbs freeze and his breath solidify in his lungs.
Then he saw a pair of eyes Large enough to hold the world in each iris.
They were crimson- no, scarlet-

no, redd.


They stared at him, and he couldn't do anything but stare back.
A ragged smile he recognized opened up too wide too large-


He woke up on the floor screaming.