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Description: SCP-4184 is a lightly-used musical notation booklet bearing a piece of sheet music resembling Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Requiem in D Mass Minor.
SCP-4184's anomalous effects manifest when someone who has lost a blood relative in the past year plays or hears the piece. For 12 hours after doing so, every document the subject writes will be a letter to the dead relative. The subject will believe they are writing normally, and will not see the difference between their intended writing and the product, even when pointed out. Furthermore, the subject's mental state begins to deteriorate to severe grief, often manifesting itself as nostalgia and depression towards the loved one.
Details of Recovery SCP-4184 was recovered after a composer, Anna Swalls, began to display frequent mood swings, despite not taking any form of psychosomatic medication, having no history of depression, and having no history of drug abuse. Mrs. Swalls eventually took her life. Based on reports from her brother, Junior Researcher Jakob Swalls, she often kept to her room, and when pressured, explained she was listening to "a song from the heart." Upon Mrs. Swalls' death, the Foundation located SCP-4184 on a bedside table, showing signs of wear and tear from being played. Junior Researcher Swalls was not immediately notified of his sister's passing to ensure he would not be affected by SCP-4184.
Test Document 1: D-59041 Foreword: African-American Male, 51 years of age. Imprisoned for tax evasion. Grandmother expired 2 weeks prior to the video log's recording.
Notified the day of testing.
Procedure: D-59041 was instructed to listen to SCP-4184, then told to write about his favorite sport.
<Begin Visual Log> <00:05> Junior Researcher Swalls: Er, D-59041?
<00:12> D-59041: Why the fuck am I here?
<00:35>Junior Researcher Swalls: Well, we just want you to listen to some music, then write a bit. About anything, like a little journal.
<00:50> D-59041: Seems useless.
<00:53>Junior Researcher Swalls: No. No it is not. It's slow, classical music.
<00:57> D-59041: You trying to make me cry, or something? Shit's not gonna work.
<01:04> Junior Researcher Swalls: Well, I guess we'll see.
(Junior Researcher Swalls exits the room, as SCP-4184 begins to play.) <02:01>D-59041: You know what, lab coats? I fucking told y'all this wasn't gonna work. You guys trying to make me sad with Van Gogh, or something?
<04:11>D-59041: Fucking assholes.
<06:13>D-59041: What'll it take for you to get me out of here? Money? I got a whole lot of that. You need rides? Jobs? I can call someone, if you guys give me a phone.
<10:18>D-59041: (Quiet sobbing can be heard.) <12:10>D-59041: Alright, just give me the damn paper. Let me write.
(SCP-4184's playing ceases. D-59041 is given a piece of paper, and a pen.
Document is attached below.) Grandmama, are you out there? It's me, your Bill. It's been a long time since I talked to you, Grandmama, but I just I want you to know that I love you, and I miss you. I'm sorry for for taking taking it a bit too far. I remember those nights where you used to make me lemonade, sit me down, and tell me about Dad, tell me jokes, tell me stories. Oh, the fun we used to have. I remember when you used to tuck me in at night. But, when I grew older… I guess I thought that I didn't need that anymore. So I suppose that’s why I stopped talking to you and Pops. And, we didn’t end up talking for a long, long while after that. And that’s probably why I ended up where I am now. I had a family. No matter now. I went to jail, Grandmama, and Dad and Mom don’t even visit anymore. As lonely as I may be, Grandmama, I still love you, and I know if you knew where I was, you’d come visit too. You always did try to, because you loved me too.
Test Document 2: D-21739 Foreword: D-21739 is a Caucasian female, 29 years of age. Imprisoned for criminal child negligence, which led directly to the death of her 1 year old child. Incident occurred 3 months prior to log recording.
Procedure: D-21739 was instructed to listen to SCP-4184, then to write their grocery list.
<Begin Visual Log> <00:22> D-21739: Alright, just… please don't make it sad. I can barely think about him, without bursting into tears, you sick sons of bitches.
(J.R. Swalls stays silent. Exiting the room, the music commences at exactly 1 minute of the video log recording. At this time, D-21739 is sitting on the floor against a wall opposite the one way window.) <1:27> D-21739: You… sick. Sick. That's all you make me. It wasn't my fault.
I swear. He was the only thing that mattered.
<2:51> D-21739>: (D-21739 attempts to cover her ears, before sinking to the floor.) Stop making me remember him. Stop! Please!
<4:12> D-21739>: God, please! It was an accident! I left to pick up some meds… The doors wouldn't open! I saw him… his beautiful cheeks, as rosy as when he came in. His wisps of hair! His big, beautiful eyes, staring, staring into my soul! Everywhere I turned! I thought they had shut… (D-21739 uncovers her ears, before banging on the door.) <6:41> D-21739: The window tint couldn't hide it! I pulled at the doors, the locks wouldn't budge, and I saw him slowly fall asleep, his voice barely audible. His eyes, the eyes that were mine, never shutting. I close my eyes, but the eyes still stare! I always think they shut, but all they do is blink!
(D-21739 is restrained, and is then given a paper, with a dull pencil. Written document attached below.) BLINK.
Test Document 3: D-95671 Foreword: D-95671 is a Caucasian female, 30 years of age. Imprisoned for fraud and embezzlement. Sister died due to suicide 4 months prior to the audio log's recording. D-95671 was already aware of her sister's death.
Procedure: D-95671 was instructed to listen to SCP-4184, then write about a pet.
<Begin Visual Log> <00:00> Junior Researcher Swalls: D-95671?
<00:05> D-95671: Yes?
(After reviewing D-95671's clipboard, Junior Researcher Swalls appears choked up. Clearing his throat, he continues.) <00:12> Junior Researcher Swalls: If it doesn't intrude, I wanted to ask… what was your sister like?
<00:30> D-95671: (Chuckling, D-95671 remains silent, before pointing at Junior Researcher Swalls.) Emma was probably the best of the two of us. I remember her smile… it's funny how all I remember about her now is when she was a kid. She'd run out to the swing on the big oak in our backyard, giggling, so happy. She'd hardly be where I am now. As fucking corny as it sounds, those of us who smile a lot, tend to frown a lot on the inside, and I suppose I didn't notice until it was too late. She'd gotten caught up in some shady stuff… drugs, crime, the whole lot of it, and then I took a turn for the worst. We were each other's support.
(Junior Researcher Swalls exits the room, before coming back in wearing a new lab coat, red-eyed.) <08:39> Junior Researcher Swalls:> I see. Let's get away from that. Just listen to some music, now.
<09:01> D-95671: Emma did always like a little tune.
(Playing commences. After approximately 5 minutes, D-95671 requests a pencil and paper. Written document is attached below.) Emma was a beautiful being. She blazed beautifully, and I know she could've gone even brighter, if I had done something. I suppose I seem very, well, standoffish at times. It's just, well, we did everything together, like twins should, so once someone goes, it's hard to replace them. You go about your normal day, but it's just not normal because they're gone. You ask for them to get something, or for them to help pick something up, and you yell, and yell, but no one ever responds. It's like there's an Emma-shaped hole in my life.
A hole only she could fill. Even now, I still can't believe she's gone. But I suppose that's why I am where I am now. Because we completed each other. What's the use of a jigsaw puzzle that's missing a middle piece?
Test Document 4: D-71432 Foreword: D-71432 is a 19 year old male of Asian Indian descent.
Imprisoned for a non-violent drug offense. Mother died 9 months and 12 days prior to visual log's recording, due to a heart attack. Subject frequently requested new testing conditions due to high levels of anxiety, which are being treated with benzodiazepines.
Procedure: D-71432 was instructed to listen to SCP-4184, then write about a favorite movie.
<Begin Visual Log> <00:00> Junior Researcher Swalls: Hopefully, this goes a bit better.
D-71432?
<00:12> D-71432: Yes? And what was that about it going poorly? I thought I was here to listen to some music.
(D-71432 looks visibly distressed, wringing his palms and wiping his forehead.) <00:26> Junior Researcher Swalls: Well, that's true. It's just… people feel, well strongly about the piece.
<00:40> D-71432: Sir? I have, well, one question.
<00:47> Junior Researcher Swalls: Yes, D-71432?
(D-71432 cracks his knuckles, before continuing.) <00:55> D-71432: Stay with me, will you? I'd appreciate someone in this time… well, you've been the only one to show some form of empathy, and not treat me as some cigarette butt to be burnt and thrown away.
<01:21> (Junior Researcher Swalls cocks his head.) I'll… have to check with my superiors.
(Junior Researcher Swalls exits the testing area. Ethics personnel determined Swalls's insusceptibility to SCP-4184's effects. As such, D-71432's request was allowed, with heightened security outside the testing area.) <15:29> D-71432: Together?
<15:38> Junior Researcher Swalls: Together.
(Playing commences.) (At one minute elapsed, D-71432 begins to cry. Junior Researcher Swalls can be seen patting D-71432's back.) (At two minutes elapsed, D-71432 visibly shivers while sobs cause his back to arch and leap. Junior Researcher Swalls unbuttons his coat, and wraps it about D-71432.) (At three minutes elapsed, Junior Researcher Swalls embraces D-71432.) (At four minutes elapsed, D-71432 is given a paper and a pencil. Document is attached below.) My guilt is buried, my sorrows quenched. See you soon.
Footnote: D-71432 found unresponsive in his holding cell. Subject pronounced dead, cause of death being overdose on prescribed benzodiazepines.
Test Document 5: Junior Researcher Swalls <Begin Visual Log> <00:09> Junior Researcher Swalls: When D-95671 was talking about Emma, it- felt a lot like Anna. I loved her. We always used to do everything together. Halloween, we'd be PB and J. Birthdays, we'd celebrate together, even though hers was in October, and mine was January. (He wipes his eyes with his sleeve.) When I used to cry when I was little, she'd put her little, fuzzy pink wool sweater around me, and tell me everything was alright. I miss that. I miss her. It's the little things you miss about a person, before the void sets in. Before acceptance, grief, denial, whatever else those five stages are.
And I suppose I'm still stuck on the little things. I just want another sweater.
To feel those arms around me one more time, and to hear someone say everything is alright, and that I'm loved. That I'm valid. But, I suppose, we don't always get what we want. To write what we feel, is liberating, to say the least. Anna? If you can hear me, whatever heaven or hell you're in, I miss you. I hope they take mail. If they do, here's my message: It's Jake. I love you. I miss you.
(Playing commences nearly immediately. After approximately 10 minutes, during which he appears in deep thought, Junior Researcher Swalls pulls out a pencil and paper from his lab coat. Document attached below.) Goodbye. I'll see you soon too.
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