Image of Dallas College Auditorium, taken by Dr. Mark Kegans before the fire.
Special Containment Procedures: Foundation personnel are to be embedded within administrative operations management and facilities support divisions, and are responsible for enforcing adherence to the above protocols by all civilian productions. Before each production cycle, personnel are to post the following message verbatim to either the green room corkboard or the workshop whiteboard:
"Dear [NAME], you are cordially invited to participate in our production; we are in your hands and tools. — The Theatre Collective."
Personnel must leave a single copy of the final script for each production in the green room besides this posting, and no further edits can be made after submission. Any directives concerning building maintenance, staging, set design, and logistical coordination must be noted explicitly on either the workshop whiteboard or the greenroom corkboard.
The "ghost light" incandescent fixture is always to be kept illuminated during non-performance hours. Personnel may not engage in any religious or ceremonial attempts at banishment, exorcism, EVP recording, or deliberate provocation of SCP-8827. Staff are advised to conduct themselves professionally at all times.
Description: SCP-8827 is an incorporeal humanoid entity with localized telekinetic manipulation abilities. Municipal archives indicate this entity is the post-mortem incarnation of William Covington, a civilian stage technician whose death occurred via lethal blunt force trauma as the result of a counterweight rigging failure in 1971.
SCP-8827 appears as a spectral image of a Caucasian man in his late twenties, wearing standard clothing typical of a stage technician during the late twentieth century. These clothes include denim overalls, a work shirt, and a leather belt with various tools. SCP-8827 lacks a means of producing vocalizations, communicating with its environment entirely through precise control over object manipulation1. Within a radius of 45 meters from the stage, SCP-8827 is capable of manipulating objects, tools, and mechanical systems.
When the protocol is followed, SCP-8827 manifests itself on the opening night of each production run. After inspection of the submitted script, the entity begins resetting the venue and performing necessary repairs in accordance with the instructions on the board. Though these repairs exhibit remarkable proficiency, they also utilize highly archaic methods. Modern-day, electrical equipment is maintained and manipulated with manual tools of the time period when Covington lived.
If the invitation protocol is not initiated by the third performance night of a production cycle, the entity enters an aggravated state. Temperatures drop by 5° C to 10° C and begin to target stage equipment. Specific behaviors have been documented to include:
- Backstage door locks and latches activating spontaneously and unexpectedly.
- Open paint and adhesive containers undergoing abnormally rapid desiccation.
- Interruptive flicker events occurring intermittently along the lighting grid.
- Misplaced stage props hidden or moved without rhyme or reason.
After the third consecutive night, the entity enters a phase of systematic reorganization. Flats and props are arranged into complex geometrical configurations, creating logistical complications. There have been no signs that the entity intends physical violence against human personnel.
Communication with SCP-8827 is accomplished through the use of the workshop board. SCP-8827 communicates via handwritten messages in cursive script. The entity often uses this medium to give unsolicited technical advice, critiques on performances, and warnings of potential hazards found within the facility.
The Foundation became aware of SCP-8827 on October 14th, 2025, when campus security received reports of construction materials assembling themselves onto the main stage from a night janitorial employee. Upon investigation, no intruders could be detected as camera surveillance systems were barred by university policy in classroom and theater venues. Agents assigned to monitor campus activity intercepted this report; two operatives were deployed to the venue as technical apprentices, verifying the presence of the entity.
Following a six-month study period wherein behavioral patterns were documented, acquisition and containment were enacted. Key faculty members were dosed with Class-A amnestics. False cover stories regarding a departmental tradition were disseminated to incoming faculty and students.
Early testing with standard contact methodologies proved unsuccessful as SCP-8827 actively resisted:
- A written instruction to manifest itself for examination was ripped apart into pieces and used as shims to repair an unstable workbench.
- A high-frequency soundwave generator employed to provoke psychotronic responses was dismantled overnight, its wiring and capacitors installed to correct a persistent electrical fault in the dimming circuitry.
- An intern assigned to observe activity overnight found all measuring instruments relocated beyond arm's reach while her notes reordered themselves backward from highest numbered page to lowest.
Protocol Laboratory staff revised existing protocols to accommodate SCP-8827's functionality.
Interview #1
Interviewee: SCP-8827
Interviewer: Dr. Trevor Berryhill2
Foreword: First contact interview conducted from the stage deck of the auditorium located at Dallas College. Considering the 1971 municipal coroner's report indicating traumatic crush injuries sustained to Covington's thoracic cavity and larynx, Dr. Berryhill was equipped with drafting pencils, a legal notepad, and a portable audio recorder to facilitate non-verbal communication.
<Begin Log>
The recorder activates, and a background buzz of a sixty-cycle hum comes from the central ghost light.
Dr. Berryhill: I'm Dr. Trevor Berryhill. First intake interview for SCP-8827. Current time is… 23:10.
Sound of footsteps walking along the wooden staging floor, followed by metal sound as chair moves.
Dr. Berryhill: I'm setting up position downstage, left at prompt desk. The ghost light is activated at the stage center.
A plastic lid is opened from a thermos' container.
Dr. Berryhill: Mr. Covington, or SCP-8827 as we'll be calling you, I'm downstage left next to the proscenium arch. Municipal coroner's reports regarding the um… 1971 Dallas College production are available on file. The rigging failure took place in technical rehearsal prior to the night performance. Is this correct?
The background hisses as the tape rolls.
Dr. Berryhill: Now if you are unable to speak, there are mechanical drafting pencils placed on the prompt desk. Take those down to the staging area and mark the legal pad.
Three minutes of total silence recorded.
Dr. Berryhill: I just wish to document the um- the administrative record here. Can you please sign the document?
One minute of tape hiss, as Dr. Berryhill pauses and waits for a response.
Dr. Berryhill: …Even an initial would suffice.
Sudden mechanical noises sound as an iron solenoid valve located underneath the stage activates, and pneumatics releases pressure into the pit area through the gaps between the boards.
Dr. Berryhill gets to his feet. His boots audibly scratch against wooden decking boards.
Dr. Berryhill: What the… The- the Lift motor for the center trap has been engaged. I can see the venting air pressure lines in the pit area below stage de- huh?!
Grinding noises come from below deck. The trap door rises three inches from its resting point, and locks rigidly against the oak frame. The hissing continues steadily from the cylinder.
Sounds of metal scraping from stage left wing. Crescent wrench and valve tool slide off metal rail to drop on wooden floorboards.
Dr. Berryhill: SCP-8827! Can you stop messing around with the equipment down there, please?! Get up on the stage!
Tools float across floorboards to hatchway opening, descending into pit below deck. Wrench grasps brass collar nut; sharp metallic squealing as wrench tightens grip.
The lift ceases its movement, but the cylinder still rises upward. Grinding noises are heard in the line pressure line, alongside the hisses of the pressure valve, slowing slightly but it does not shut off the line pressure stalls.
The wrench slips off the nut as the iron clang of the wrench hits the wooden subfloor.
Dr. Berryhill approaches the hatchway's opening, and shines his flashlight beam down into the pit.
Dr. Berryhill: …You do know that you cannot seal that joint using just an open-end wrench, right?
The tools' noises cease immediately..
Dr. Berryhill: Um… Yeah… the gland nut is bottomed on the threads. Leather packing cup decomposed decades ago inside the lift cylinder. The only thing you accomplish each time you tighten that wrench is chewing up that brass collar piece.
Ten seconds of silence.
The drafting pencil floats up from the prompt desk, and hovers above the wooden framing of the hatchway.
The pencil lead digs into the wood with heavy pressure, scratching it deeply.
Dr. Berryhill clears his throat
Dr. Berryhill: "Need two-inch steerhide cup seals. The packing is decayed into powder and the piston jammed during upstroke."
Dr. Berryhill bends over the hatch's opening, and crosses his arms behind his knees.
Dr. Berryhill: I can procure you a new leather cup packing. But now, can you please answer the questions on this intake sheet?
The pencil lead digs back into board, marking wood another three inches lower.
Dr. Berryhill: "No documentation during work procedure. Not only is the theatre completely dark, but the tech rehearsal also occurs six days from now."
Silence on tape.
Dr. Berryhill: …actually tech rehearsal doesn't occur in six days, 8827.
Pencil stops moving.
Dr. Berryhill: We're actually in 2026… years from that date, production preparation occurred more than four decades ago. Since then, both college names and theatre programs were abandoned. The fall from theatre catwalk grid system caused your death. Hemp rope counterweight snapped from the act curtain… You did not make the opening night performance. I'm sorry…
Total silence heard on tape. Background sounds of building continue steadily.
the pencil raises again, beginning slow movement across the hatchway board.
Dr. Berryhill: "How is act curtain rigged?"
Dr. Berryhill: Crews consist entirely of student interns who learn fly system procedures at work study jobs.
the pencil lead presses heavily against the wood surface. A click is heard as the graphite tip snaps off inside the pencil casing.
Dr. Berryhill: "Students don't know counterweight mathematics. Head blocks on hemp rope lines ignored; arbor pin will slip rails."
Dr. Berryhill: That's why we are locked in this room today. Night watchmen saw tools moving along this deck three nights ago and contacted local campus police. Facilities Services personnel secured the building for investigation purposes, resulting in current lockdown status for the entire building complex. Students are locked out of the building until we finish.
The pencil begins using sharp edge of broken lead to write on the wooden surface.
Dr. Berryhill: "The deck is still unsafe to operate on. Actuator motor seized within lifting cylinder; electrical connection of border cable on pipe four is bare grounding wire. With live cable, weight hoist snaps cable."
Dr. Berryhill: There is no possibility of dismantling lift cylinder assembly in-situ. It'll need removal for actual repair.
The pencil begins drawing marks beside hatch entrance opening.
Dr. Berryhill: "Take scene shop."
Dr. Berryhill: If we remove the lift mechanism assembly back to workshop bay, will you leave stage area alone- undisturbed?
The pencil draws across the wooden surface, making marks.
Dr. Berryhill: "Need mechanical socket set. Two-inch hide cup packers. Neoprene O-ring seals. Mineral oil lubricant: NOT SILICONE GREASE."
Dr. Berryhill: Tomorrow evening, I'll bring a mechanic tool kit box with all those items you listed. Also, a written work order that details the cylinder rebuilding procedure.
The pencil makes a single entry below the list.
Dr. Berryhill: "Don't hover around workbench. Leave the shop alone."
Dr. Berryhill: Fine, then I'll take seat opposite end of room, will stay out of your way while working…
The pencil drops on the wood surface. It begins rolling on the surface until trapped between two board sections.
Mechanical clicking noise are heard from rear electrical control station. Subsequently, the main power contactor switches off, plunging the room into darkness except for the ghost light.
Soft mechanical click heard. Door panic bar unlocks itself, sliding open slightly.
Berryhill gets back up and steps away from hatch entrance.
Dr. Berryhill: …Requisition two-inch steerhide seals and rebuild kit to shop area… Session terminated.
SCP-8827: Comeback later, won'tcha?
Dr. Berryhill?: Huh?
Recorder switched off.
<End Log>
Researcher's Note: After establishing communication through the task board protocol, I, Dr. Trevor Berryhill, received preliminary approval for overnight residence inside the theater complex during the next six days. There, I conducted no interrogations of SCP-8827 in favor of direct labor cooperation on-site, offering the entity professional treatment dissolved its reservations into respectful cooperation. I think the working relations developed smoothly between us, this may help us in subsequent interviews.
Interview #2
Interviewee: SCP-8827
Interviewer: Dr. Trevor Berryhill
Foreword: A Follow-up contact conducted inside the Dallas College scene shop workshop, located through the double doors behind stage left. During the preceding day, facility maintenance personnel unbolted the seized centre-stage trapdoor actuator from its framing in the pit and relocated the cast-iron cylinder to the primary oak workbench. Per the agreement established in Interview #1, Dr Berryhill entered the workshop at 22:15 equipped with a mechanical rebuild kit, steerhide cup seals, mineral oil, a standard socket set, and two typed task sheets.
<Begin Log>
The recorder activates, and a background buzz of a sixty-cycle hum comes from the central ghost light.
Dr. Berryhill: This is Dr. Trevor Berryhill, conducting a follow-up session with SCP-8827. This interview takes place inside the scene shop workshop; the current time is 22:15.
A metallic rattling noise is heard as Berryhill places his steel cantilever toolbox upon the oak bench.
Dr. Berryhill: 8827, I assume you were already aware of the contents of this tool kit I brought. So I'll just place it directly atop the actuator assembly in the wood vice; it's accessible for either end-cap head.
A paper is unrolled on a wooden surface.
Dr. Berryhill: Here is the Job Order number one clipped to the toolrack above the vice station. In the red box are the three-eighth inch socket drives, two-inch hide cups, neoprene sealing rings, and mineral oil. Do… don't? Do not? Who wrote this?! Just don't use the silicone-based lubricants anywhere inside this shop. They will ruin the leather.
Footsteps on the concrete floor are audible, accompanied by scraping noise as a stool moves across the warehouse floor toward the rear doors.
Dr. Berryhill: I already told you that I would leave the working process alone. But I'm still interested in watching over you. So… as per our arrangement, I'm sitting at the far end of the shop next to the fire doors with a novel. It's your work area now; go wild.
Silence throughout tape recording for forty-two minutes. Background noises of compressors venting through the doors to the loading bay are heard as Dr Berryhill is periodically flipping pages of a paperback novel.
Temperature drops sharply at 23:04. Audio capture picks up a distinct metallic groan of the vices being loosened.
Rattling of the latch release on the tool chest. Metallic clinks and ratcheting sounds as the socket wrench engages the threads and starts spinning the bolts loose.
Sound of cracking and tearing iron gland fitting. Light tapping sound of brass mallet hitting the end of the actuator casing cap.
Metal scraping as the iron piston rod pulls free of the cylinder housing. Scraping of putty knife removing congealed grease tallow lining from within the casing walls. Dry shavings drop to newspaper lining beneath the bench.
Liquids splash as leather cup packing is submerged in mineral oil before insertion into the piston housing chamber. Squealing sounds as leather seating into position within cylinder head housing.
Continued ratchet sound of socket wrench re-threading four faceplates to secure the piston head in position.
The tools are dropped back onto an oily rag, wiping oil off each component part before returning to original place inside toolbox. Clear clicking noise of sockets returning to slots are heard and final lid shut firmly.
Dr. Berryhill rises from his reading position, placing the book aside and standing. His footfalls on the concrete floor approach the workstation bench.
SCP-8827 appears in its translucent form, dressed in workman's dungaree pants, standing beside the vice assembly. A faint wraith-like outline shimmers in the yellow work lights; an oily carpenter's pencil is lifted from a wood plank, marking the bottom edge of the job order sheet.
Dr. Berryhill halts his approach, remaining three paces away while allowing Covington to mark his notes.
Dr. Berryhill: Has the actuator been rebuilt?
Dr. Berryhill grasps the piston rod, pulling the assembly out from the vice position along the glide channel. Rod extends evenly from cylinder bore with quiet hissing noise until it reaches the mechanical stop-point.
Dr. Berryhill: Clean stroke movement. The return action is… surprisingly fluid. Huh, no obvious binding.
Dr. Berryhill: Reviewing your notes: "Rebuilt cylinder assembly using two inch steerhide packings. Bore honed to perfection using fine emery cloth. Test timed on shop pneumatic line: 1.8 seconds consistent upward stroke, 1.9 seconds return time. DO NOT apply silicone oil lubricant; it will glaze the leather surfaces. Zerk fittings greased weekly with mineral oil."
SCP-8827: Shop condition is atrocious. What happened?
Berryhill ceases reading aloud from his notes. He lifts his head to regard the apparition.
Dr. Berryhill: Did- are you… DID YOU JUST TALK?!
SCP-8827: Of course. It needs 30 minutes. But beggars can't be choosers; it isn't pleasant listening. Not to mention that you shouldn't jabber through a task call.
Dr. Berryhill: Your department tried to communicate last night, and you made me stay in pitch darkness while you destroyed every item in my inventory checklist! You had been capable of talking since we met; why didn't you talk?
Covington gestures towards his throat with pale fingers, pressing two digits firmly against flesh.
SCP-8827: Talking is a no-go during task operations. Besides, the clipboard says to me you were an admin guy, not knowing backstage work duties. Rigging tasks need equipment.
Dr. Berryhill: Obviously?
SCP-8827: Look, doc. There is still plenty messy around here. Actors and crewmembers throwing around iron left and right. Cold chisel lying under the bleachers in the morning light, pipe wrench dangling loose on the fly gallery railing… some kid runs a pipe traveler load with that iron hanging off, drops seventy feet straight onto an actor's head from up high.
Dr. Berryhill: That's what needs sorting. My department sealed off this facility due to burglaries in the backstage area… well, that's ignoring the other you-shaped problem. If you plan on continuing with repairs in a quarantined zone, we have to establish an auditing procedure.
Dr. Berryhill reaches into his coat pocket, withdrawing a second printed job order form and several drafting pencils.
Dr. Berryhill: Here, look. This is Job Order zero-two, the uh, the communication protocol. We keep track of repairs.
Dr. Berryhill lays down Job Order zero-two on the workbench surface beside the fixed cylinder head assembly.
Dr. Berryhill: My staffs needs an account for moving equipment. These structural faults require official documentation to secure supplies for hazardous repairs before accidents occur… like yours.
Dr. Berryhill points his flashlight towards the blank melamine surface of the large bulletin board mounted adjacent to the storage cabinet.
Dr. Berryhill: You document hazards on the bulletin board. Supply requests go to my staff.
SCP-8827 stares contemplatively at the bulletin board, then reaches forward, grabbing one of the black dry-erase markers.
Audible snap as SCP-8827 lifts off the cap to reveal the dry-erase marker tip.
SCP-8827 walks to the bulletin board and begins writing in bold capital letters with consistent line weight using professional handwriting techniques.
Dr. Berryhill: "ACTIVE WORK ORDERS"
Scribbling of SCP-8827 with a dry-erase marker onto the blank bulletin board page.
Dr. Berryhill: "Ghost Light is mandatory safety requirement… to remain lit on center line stage area. Hazard status: Dark Deck…" What?
SCP-8827 caps the dry erase marker and places it into its storage slot on the bulletin board surface.
Dr. Berryhill: Leave the light burning… Well, that's standard protocol here.
SCP-8827 faces Dr. Berryhill again and nods firmly once, outlines beginning to fade like smoke until only shadow remains cast on the wall behind him.
SCP-8827: The actuator assembly is fixed. I'm ready to go back into place now. Go have the stagehands mount the assembly in the pit lift system and tighten mounting bolts securely to forty foot-pounds force. Strip the pine framing otherwise.
Dr. Berryhill: Torque measurement… confirmed. Looks good.
Fading out of visibility, SCP-8827 vanishes entirely from view as it departs.
Dr. Berryhill: …i'll end the session here then.
Recording switches off.
<End Log>
Researcher's Note: On the sixth evening, searching the upper fly loft for spare rigging cables, I discovered a waterlogged crate labeled 'Fall 1971 – The Nutcracker.' Inside were the damaged mechanical music box gears for the Sugar Plum Fairy act sequence. I recognize that this was the actual performance Covington was staging when he was killed, I placed the clockwork box on the center stage floor next to the ghost light with a handwritten note attached: 'Thought you want to see this.'
Interview #3
Interviewee: SCP-8827
Interviewer: Dr. Trevor Berryhill
Foreword: The following is the third formal interview with SCP-8827, conducted after 24 hours of cleaning operations inside the scene shop, which included Dr. Berryhill pulling an old clockwork music box from an archival storage crate marked "Fall 1971 – The Nutcracker." Placed the device alongside the ghost light on the stage deck with a note attached that read simply: "Thought you'd like to see this."
<Begin Log>
The recording begins with the low hum of the sixty-cycle ballasts powering the ghost light in the centre of the stage. It is accompanied by a faint, soft chime from somewhere beyond the curtains.
Dr. Berryhill enters through the center aisle, approaching the edge of the stage apron and illuminating the boards ahead of him with a penlight flashlight.
Dr. Berryhill: Looks like you've got it working again.
SCP-8827 stands partially obscured within the proscenium archway; its hands is seen resting upon its belt loops.
SCP-8827: The mainspring arbor was bent half-outta shape. The two teeth had been snapped clean off the governor pinion… Quite frankly, it looks like the kid had dropped it off the apron down onto concrete.
Dr. Berryhill: Took you what, an hour?
SCP-8827: Forty minutes. I managed to salvage a brass pivot pin from inside the bezel casing of an antique pocket watch in the prop cabinet drawer. Then I needed to file it down manually so it wouldn't bind inside the gear train.
Dr. Berryhill walks forward toward the prompt desk to inspect the clockwork gears.
Dr. Berryhill: The maintenance crew completed bolting the trap actuator inside the pit today. They used the torque wrench as you suggested, applying the, uh, forty foot-pounds of pressure to each flange screw, right? You haven't got your thanks, so-
SCP-8827: No need.
Dr. Berryhill: Huh? Why?
SCP-8827: Actions speak louder than words. That good news makes up for any thanks I'd ever get… your boys would have stripped the framing on the first lift.
Chimes from the music box fade gradually before cutting off sharply. It was followed by a momentary pause; the auditorium falls into stillness.
Dr. Berryhill: That clockwork box belonged to the Fall 1971 archival production, right?
SCP-8827: Yeah, I remember…
SCP-8827: The director was a pompous prick. Yelling his head off inside the green room after the Thursday rehearsals….
SCP-8827: There was this guest student actor from the downtown conservatory, she was assigned as Clara… but she dropped the box right as the opening number came around. Mainspring snapped in her hands. The Director bought the damn thing second-hand from Geneva; it cost a fortune… he told the prop team that he considered them incompetent, demanding removal of the entire sequence.
Dr. Berryhill: Did you restore it?
SCP-8827: I'm the only person in the theatre that would fix it. I stayed up until 4 AM working beneath the shop lamp with tweezers because the college couldn't afford jeweler's pliers. The brass set-screws were tiny as flea bites, so I filed them down on a shop rag. My fingers cramped up after three hours straight; I was only awake that time solely due to cold diner coffee.
Dr. Berryhill: Did you fix it in time?
SCP-8827 nods.
SCP-8827: I handed it directly to her as soon as she arrived at the stage door Friday morning. She hugged me.
Dr. Berryhill: Then you performed tech rehearsal later that afternoon, right?
SCP-8827: I went up into the grid seven stories above the stage at 2 PM to verify tension on the hemp line running the snow drop effect.
A rasping cough escapes SCP-8827's damaged throat.
SCP-8827: Lanyard for the lifeline was hanging disconnected from my harness straps. I expected nothing more than checking that the hemp line was tensioned, then climbing back down to get some rest… I accidentally hooked a foot against a slack line running across the grid floor. My knee snapped instantly.
SCP-8827: I remember trying to grasp the arbor line above me as I fell, jerking the hemp out of its tie-off cleat and snapping the cable line with my weight alone… but its' useless… I fell straight through the border drape, landing on the deck floor below me…
No audio recorded for fifteen seconds. Steady electrical buzz continues emanating from the ghost light.
Dr. Berryhill: The records told me that they went ahead with the performance Saturday night despite your accident… was that rig-
SCP-8827: Yes. Its always right… it's Rule number one of the college… They sucked the deck dry, hired a fresh crew, curtains rose on schedule.
Dr. Berryhill: If it makes you feel any better, the box played without fail during Clara's cue…
SCP-8827 smiles
SCP-8827: I am happy.
SCP-8827 looks past the proscenium into the darkness beyond the curtain and frowns.
SCP-8827: …I found the call sheets taped to the green room door this morning. They'll be performing Ibsen's play, "A Doll's House."3
Dr. Berryhill: The administrative clearance already authorized a restricted daylight access beginning tomorrow. The drama faculty will return student performers daily for afternoon blocking rehearsals now that the stage dangers have been flagged out.
SCP-8827 gazes down at the brass clockwork box sitting atop the prompt desk.
SCP-8827: Those children are reckless, Berryhill. Running around backstage in complete darkness, leaving script copies scattered all over the dimmer console racks… the girl who plays Nora freezes up whenever she hears the stage spotlights flickering overhead.
Dr. Berryhill: Don't blame them, 8827. They are still freshmen. Their acting debut with this production.
SCP-8827: She thinks she's going to ruin the show… She stays locked in the shadows backstage, too terrified to walk out into the spotlight. Poor thing doesn't believe she belongs out there.
Dr. Berryhill: We're trying to develop procedures for your interaction with the theatre, 8827. The formal protocol to allow faculty members and staff to avoid impeding your work… the drafting invitations before every performance. Finalized scripts posted in the green room, maintenance tickets posted inside the workshop.
SCP-8827 looks back at Dr. Berryhill, tilting its head curiously.
SCP-8827: Invitations?
Dr. Berryhill: Acknowledgments, an official process granting permission to you. They are confirming that this is still your domain and entrusting you with your tools.
SCP-8827 looks upward toward the fly tower above the proscenium.
SCP-8827: Can I get a gun?
Dr. Berryhill: No.
SCP-8827: Well…
SCP-8827: Let's see whether your paper trail works when tech week starts.
SCP-8827 points towards the prompt desk.
SCP-8827: You leave this box sitting out on the ledge, understood? It belongs to Clara and this theatre.
Dr. Berryhill: Sir yes sir!
SCP-8827: Goodbye.
SCP-8827 disappears into the blackness of the stage wing, condensing until only the ghost light remains glowing dimly.
Recording ends.
<End Log»
Researcher's Note: It's no mystery that the source of SCP-8827's compulsive repair behaviors lies directly within the circumstances surrounding its death. For the next interview session, I plan to leave the repair board blank in order to gauge what specific tasks SCP-8827 will undertake independently.
Interview #4
Interviewee: SCP-8827
Interviewer: Dr. Trevor Berryhill
Foreword: The following is the fourth regularly scheduled interview session, held within the scene shop workshop space behind the left wing of the proscenium. Following the development of regular maintenance auditing processes, Dr. Berryhill deliberately kept the "ACTIVE WORK ORDERS" whiteboard entirely blank, without any maintenance tickets or questions, in order to encourage spontaneous interaction. The session was started on schedule by Dr. Berryhill at 22:45.
<Begin Log>
Recording starts. Background buzz of the fluorescent ballasts in the workshop can be heard.
Dr. Berryhill: I'm Dr. Trevor Berryhill, currently interviewing SCP-8827. I'm now located in the venue in the scene shop, start time 24:46
Creaking sound of a wooden chair sliding across concrete flooring can be heard. Dr. Berryhill sets the portable cassette recorder face-down upon the workbench counter.
Dr. Berryhill: Today's work order board is well… nothing. There is not a single ticket pinned up; no list of burnouts on the pipeline circuitry.
Audio recording is silent for seven minutes; it is accompanied by the ambient hum of passing campus traffic outside beyond the loading bay doors.
Room temperature decreases by several degrees Celsius at 22:54. SCP-8827 fades into visibility by the tool crib, arms hanging from leather belt loops.
SCP-8827 fixes his gaze upon the blank melamine boardface.
SCP-8827: Nothing up there.
Dr. Berryhill: You notice, huh?
SCP-8827: Kinda hard not to. Most days by ten o'clock there's always three maintenance orders pinned up, and a note listing which lights are burning out along the pipelines.
Dr. Berryhill: There won't be any maintenance orders filed today, 8827. Figured I'd let you get a break from paperwork.
SCP-8827 remains standing before the tool storage cabinet without moving, facing the board. Pause lasts twenty seconds.
SCP-8827: …do you have any questions you want to ask?
Dr. Berryhill: Nope, nothing in particular. I was hoping maybe you might ask me some.
SCP-8827 remains silent without budging from its position. The recording audio remains silent for twenty seconds.
SCP-8827: Do you actually have anything working?
Dr. Berryhill: Have what working?
SCP-8827: Your invitation scheme. You said something about the 'paperwork invitations' while we were on the deck. Are you actually calling that containment? Am I actually contained?
Berryhill sits forward, leaning his forearms across the edge of the workbench.
Dr. Berryhill: Technically speaking? Yes. Containment simply implies maintaining predictability and preventing breach attempts. Faculty members submitting work orders, posting rehearsal schedules, all that stuff stops the upper levels from sending down the tactical team to dismantle the entire theater structure.
SCP-8827: In reality?
Dr. Berryhill: Practically speaking? Well… recognition, basically. You aren't stuck inside some iron chamber down in a bunker somewhere. We give you access to all the resources you need, and keep you entertained while you hold this place together. An agreement rather than a prison cell, if you will.
SCP-8827 glances once again towards the empty boardface.
SCP-8827: Sounds reasonable enough.
Dr. Berryhill: Did you play attention to today's blocking rehearsals?
SCP-8827: You already know the answer. I spent the whole afternoon watching from the second level fly gallery.
Dr. Berryhill: Yeah, I saw you standing up there behind the scrim barrier during the Act Two sequences. Anything that caught your eye?
SCP-8827: That little freshman. The Nora character.
Dr. Berryhill: What was she like?
SCP-8827: Awkward. Missed the timing for the tarantella number by three beats because she had been staring at the stage apron. She was trembling in her fingers so badly she dropped her tambourine right into the light trough below.
Dr. Berryhill: I heard she met privately with the faculty director in the lobby afterwards. They mentioned dropping her role because she feels unfit for stage acting.
SCP-8827: Poor girl, she's terrified.
Dr. Berryhill: Performance anxiety is fairly common when starting a debut performance.
SCP-8827: It goes beyond stage fright, doctor. From seventy feet up on the gridiron, I can see the fear in her ey-
Dr. Berryhill: Woah, what are you a hawk?
SCP-8827: I'm serious doctor… She believes herself to be a fraud, standing up there underneath five thousand watts of illumination, believing everyone in the house is just waiting for her to screw up and laugh at her embarrassment.
SCP-8827 gazes down at his feet in silence.
SCP-8827: I lied to you last session, Berryhill.
Dr. Berryhill became silent, tilting his head inquiringly.
Dr. Berryhill: …about what?
SCP-8827: About the music box belonging to Clara. About staying up 36 hours repairing it.
Dry wheezing inhalation noise as SCP-8827 inhales deeply.
SCP-8827: I told you I repaired it to satisfy the cue-sheet requirements. I also said it was to keep that dance sequence from being removed… The truth is… that was a damn lie.
Dr. Berryhill: …why did you do it, then?
SCP-8827: Because I wanted recognition, doc. 60 hours per week doing grunt work, sweeping up sawdust, lifting pig iron castings, reeking of machine oil… no one ever gave me so much as a second glance. Every member of the cast and crew knew nothing else about me except that I maintained the stageboards.
SCP-8827 brushes the healed scar on the left side of its neck with two fingers.
SCP-8827: I stayed awake all night plucking brass fasteners out of that music box using tweezers so someone would take notice and congratulate me for being important. I wanted that hug; I wanted that compliment of being a miracle worker, and so convinced was I of my own vanity and self-worth that I forgot to clip the safety tether line before ascending into the fly loft on the gridiron on Friday. I slipped on the hemp bight and fell forty feet straight downward through a fifty-thousand-watt lighting cluster because my mind wandered elsewhere than where I was standing.
Dr. Berryhill stays still, watching SCP-8827.
SCP-8827: The truth is… she performed regardless.
Silence for a few moments.
SCP-8827: They dragged my corpse out through the loading bay, washed my blood stains from the deckboards, and on Saturday night forced that 16 year-old girl out onto that very same floorboards to perform her dance. Dancing with the doll responsible for killing her fellow crewmember.
Dr. Berryhill: That wasn't your fault, 8827. That was an unfortunate accident.
SCP-8827: It was and still is my fault. Pride got the better of me. That girl had to endure seeing my body dangling in front of her face every time she rehearsed that dance.
SCP-8827 gestures with his finger toward the double doors leading back onto the stage deck.
SCP-8827: For that reason alone, Berryhill? I watch her constantly now. When I see that frightened expression upon her face, sweat pouring down her cheeks from stage fright terrorizing her… I refuse to allow her another kid's ghost to haunt this stage because someone made her feel insignificant. She performed on stage after witnessing firsthand how deadly it could become.
SCP-8827 steps closer to the boardface and retrieves a black-colored dry-erase marker from the metal tray on the counter.
Cap clicks off as the ink reservoir vents.
Heavy strokes mark across the surface with the tip of the marker.
Dr. Berryhill: "PROD: A DOLL'S HOUSE. CAST INVITATION: NORA HELMER. DECK IS SET."
SCP-8827 snaps the cap back into position and replaces it inside the tray.
SCP-8827: Print off some invitations for your green room notice board, Berryhill. Make sure she receives her invite promptly first thing, and that her name appears prominently at the top margin.
Dr. Berryhill: …you have my promise, 8827.
SCP-8827 glances briefly back towards the double doors before fading back into intangible form and disappearing into the workshop room. The temperature rises to ambient.
<End Log>
Administrative Announcement from Site-016's Management Authority: Due to the incidents occurring during the conclusion of this session interview, standard containment procedures have been officially outlined under Document-8827-Alpha. The subsequent fifth regular interview, scheduled initially as a simple mental evaluation interview process, has moved location and been reclassified within Addendum 8827.3 as a direct result thereof.
Addendum 8827.3: Incident Log
On 14/11/2026, twelve days following the successful closing performance of Dallas College's production of A Doll's House, a catastrophic three-alarm electrical fire broke out within the main auditorium complex.
Post-incident evaluation determined the origin point of the fire to be non-anomalous in nature. Specifically, the severe failure of electrical insulation inside vintage 1970s-era electrical conduits feeding the east wall dimmer bank, previously flagged as an area needing remediation for the SCP-8827 project on the shop's taskboard awaiting budgetary approval from the regional school board.
Initial detection occurred at 01:14 on 14 November 2026, during which time SCP-8827 exhibited anomalous behavior within the facility:
- At 01:16, SCP-8827 telekinetically triggered engagement of the stage left fire hose station. Sixty feet of canvas fire hose were deployed, as well as activation of the brass valve controlling the municipal feed into said water station. Lack of adequate pressure within the municipal supply line due to corroded feed lines prevented successful dousing.
- At 01:22, the entity attempted engagement of the motorized winch used to deploy the asbestos curtain used to seal off the house from the backstage areas following a fire outbreak in said regions. The metal cable snapped due to overheating, preventing deployment of the asbestos curtain. SCP-8827 applied massive quantities of telekinetic energy in an attempt to manually drop the curtain by forcing its release from the counterweight arbor.
- At 01:31, the grid overhead began failing. SCP-8827 abandoned firefighting measures in favor of evacuation procedures, deploying kinetic barriers around itself as it moved pieces of burning rafters and falling iron battens out of the path of the proscenium archway.
- At 01:38, SCP-8827 retrieved the wooden prop box housing Clara's 1971 music box and framed cast photo taken on opening night of A Doll's House and placed the objects beneath the proscenium header. Kinetic barrier defenses continued uninterrupted until collapse occurred in such a manner as to sever monitoring telemetry links.
Once Dallas Fire-Rescue and Foundation firefighters managed to contain and extinguish the fire at 05:40, the entire roof of the auditorium collapsed onto the stage deck, fly loft, and scene shop.
In post-fire recovery, investigators noted the absence of any trace evidence indicative of dispersal of SCP-8827 consciousness. Examination determined that the entity had anchored itself inside one remaining structure, namely a section of scorched and saturated eight-foot-long white oak segment of the proscenium. Inside this proscenium remnant were found both Clara's music box and a framed cast photo, neither of which showed any sign of damage.
This object was removed from the wreckage of the auditorium stage floor and transported securely to Site-016. This item was installed inside Provisional Containment Chamber 8827-A at Site-016.
Interview #5
Interviewee: SCP-8827
Interviewer: Dr. Trevor Berryhill
Foreword: This interview occurs precisely 72 hours subsequent to the collapse of the Dallas College auditorium's main structure, within Provisional Containment Chamber 8827-A of Site-016. The scorched eight-foot beam of white oak proscenium timber stands upright upon metal trestles within the starkly finished chamber, with Clara's wound-up music box positioned atop the charred grain. SCP-8827 manifests faintly, heavily marked by soot streaks, and fluctuating wildly. Only one dry-erase board is provided for the session.
<Begin Log>
Recording begins. The low humming sound of Site-016's air filtration blowers can be clearly heard in the background.
Dr. Berryhill occupies a metal folding chair three meters distant from the trestles. He leans forward in his seat, resting his forearms crossed across his knees.
Dr. Berryhill: SCP-88… William. It's Trevor. Can you hear me?
There is complete silence during the recording's initial minute. The temperature within the chamber drops abruptly, fogging over the bottom pane of the observation window.
SCP-8827's faint figure emerges near the scorched timber beam, taking form gradually amidst a haze of flickering translucence. The denim dungarees worn by the apparition appear soot-blackened and torn.
SCP-8827 raises its hand. The translucent hand phases entirely through the dry-erase marker seated upon the easel twice before managing to grasp hold of the handle.
SCP-8827 moves to touch the board with the marker-tip in a jerking series of motions.
Dr. Berryhill: "Gone."
Dr. Berryhill: Yeah. The auditorium's gone, William. The roof fell while the show was still going on. I'm sorry.
SCP-8827 releases the marker and allows its hand to hang loosely from its grasp.
The apparition speaks again through static-filled distortion, which seems similar to that of cracked vocal cords.
SCP-8827: The East wall… I noted it on the whiteboard. I warned you about the dimmer conduits being exposed.
Dr. Berryhill: You did warn us about it. The school board's maintenance schedule had those wires slated for replacement following the winter break. It wasn't anybody's fault but fate.
SCP-8827 shakes its head sharply. Its translucent form flickers madly in rapid fluctuations.
SCP-8827: I held the house hoses in my own hands. The municipal water pressure shut off at the riser pipe. I tried lowering the fire curtain with the manual winch, but the cable fused within the headblocks. I-I couldn't sever the cable. I couldn't close that curtain.
Dr. Berryhill: Nobody would've been able to fight that fire using municipal water pressure alone.
SCP-8827: I'M NOT JUST ANYONE BERRY! I'M A GHOST! The Stage, it's my House! 50 years sweeping that oak clean, 50 years keeping the iron tight! It burned to slag on my watch!
SCP-8827 spins to face the trestle supporting the scorched timber beam, striking it forcefully with a wide palm.
A loud hollow thud resonates throughout the concrete-walled chamber.
SCP-8827: I failed Clara, and now I couldn't even protect Nora from the burning timbers. I'm useless, Berry… What am I but a dead man gathering ashes.
Dr. Berryhill rises from his folding chair, approaching SCP-8827 to within several feet.
Dr. Berryhill: You didn't fail Nora, 8827.
SCP-8827: …what?
Dr. Berryhill: Nora completed her performance run over the weekend, William. She performed flawlessly during each one of the six performances. At Saturday night's final curtain call, she received a standing ovation from the audience that nearly collapsed the ceiling plaster… she didn't stumble, not even once.
Dr. Berryhill produces a folded sheet of yellow loose-leaf paper from his field satchel and unrolls it before SCP-8827.
Dr. Berryhill: This note was recovered from the rubble of Nora's dressing room after the fire. She had tucked it inside her makeup case after performing her last show.
Dr. Berryhill directs a penlight toward the penciled handwriting upon the paper's surface.
Dr. Berryhill: It says: "To the stagehand who keeps the lights shining and the stage floors balanced. Thank you for making me feel welcome on stage. With love, Nora."
Complete silence follows for the duration of the recording's next forty seconds. The air filtration system continues to hum steadily in the background.
SCP-8827 lowers its gaze to the unfolded sheet of yellow paper, hovering translucent fingers above the penciled note without ever physically touching the paper's fibers.
The distortion around SCP-8827 gradually resolves itself into smooth stability, taking clear form amidst the flickering.
SCP-8827: Can you tell me what happened on the, Tarantella finale?
Dr. Berryhill: She nailed it. I swear to you, she never missed a beat. She did a perfect execution of the dance without dropping the tambourine.
SCP-8827 expels a rasping sigh from its throat. Releasing the dry-erase marker back into its holder upon the easel tray.
SCP-8827: Is the music box intact?
Dr. Berryhill: Here, I placed it beside the scorched timber. See? Gears untouched, almost like there's no damage at all.
SCP-8827 raises its hand to gently touch the scorched white oak timber.
SCP-8827: …
SCP-8827: …so what happens now, Trevor? Nothing left for me to sweep anymore. The, heh, Iron is out of balance.
Dr. Berryhill: I spent the last 24 hours with Dr. Pearl and Site Command reviewing containment proposals… We call it… Operation Understudy.
SCP-8827: Understudy?
SCP-8827 tilts its head, gazing directly at Dr. Berryhill.
Dr. Berryhill: We won't keep you sealed away inside a chamber stripped bare, William. Converting the sub-chamber 016-C to a dedicated maintenance workshop. Ya know, recovering the salvaged timbers from the stage wreckage, restoring the bricks from the scene shop, and installing your personal tools right where you'll need them.
SCP-8827: Workshop for what? I have no stage to tend to in these walls.
Dr. Berryhill: Well… Site-016 contains three hundred blast doors, six hundred pneumatics, and thousands of miles worth of hoist cables. In sector seven alone, we've been unable to properly synchronize the timing seals for six months running due to synchronization failure. Within this complex environment, an imbalance causes far more than just disruption to a theatrical production. Like Containment Breaches.
SCP-8827 glances down at its own hands before looking over toward the reinforced steel doors leading outside the cell-chamber.
SCP-8827: I see two junior laboratory technicians in the corridors when I enter. Both were… trembling, clutching clipboards and eyeing the guard teams stationed at the door to my room. They have the same look of terror Nora had backstage before the curtain call.
Dr. Berryhill: People are full of fear in these sectors. All of them believe that they'll pay for any mistake made with their life… they need somebody keeping the iron aligned and tight. We give you authentic non-critical maintenance work orders posted to your shop whiteboard each evening. You handle off-hour emergencies between 2 and 4 AM, make inspections, and maintain functional operation of machinery.
SCP-8827 looks back toward the scorched oak proscenium beam, lightly drumming it with his knuckles.
SCP-8827: Do you have any craftsman sockets?
Dr. Berryhill: Five-eighth drive sockets, half-inch drive sockets. Steerhide packing material, neoprene O-ring seals, and mineral oil lubricants.
SCP-8827: Ghost light provisioned as well?
Dr. Berryhill: Mounted centrally in workshop floor space. It'll be lit from off-hours call until closing of operations at the end of the day.
SCP-8827 nods slowly in response, resolving fully into physical existence.
SCP-8827: Thank you, Trevor.
Dr. Berryhill: No problem William.
Recording ceases.
<End Log>
Researcher's Note: Operation Understudy has achieved unanimous approval among administration officials at Site-016. The implementation of SCP-8827's compulsive behavior patterns to support facility operations promises an effective containment protocol. Currently, many construction plans and procedural instructions are outlined in detail in Addendum 8827.4, followed by an analysis of the inaugural quarterly audit performed pursuant to the 6th Interview.
Addendum 8827.4: Re-containment at Site-016 & Operation Understudy
Operation Understudy took place on 28/11/2026; it was kick-started with the deconstruction of Provisional Containment Chamber 8827-A and reconstruction into a permanent maintenance shop. Architectural elements used included:
- The charred eight-foot oak timber of the proscenium structure was secured by steel reinforcements to the base floor surface of Provisional Containment Chamber 8827-A, becoming the central workbench apron.
- Two hundred red bricks taken from the original scene shop of Dallas College, where the initial containment breach occurred, were set into the southern wall and fitted with SCP-8827's original Wilton iron vise.
- Clara's personal clockwork music box from 1971, along with the opening night photograph of Dallas College's performance of A Doll's House, were mounted on a dedicated shelf above the workbench.
- An automatic ghost light, suspended by means of an iron three-legged mount, hangs directly in the center of the Sub-Chamber, connected via direct cable linkage to an uninterruptible power supply providing constant energy to the device.
Within hours of completing construction on the Sub-Chamber, SCP-8827 appeared physically present alongside the wooden workbench. The entity spent twenty minutes examining socket connections, vise tolerances, and pneumatic lines. Finally, with a black dry-erase pen, the entity scrawled "OPENING NIGHT?" onto the newly installed whiteboard in large cursive script.
Final Interview Log
Interviewee: SCP-8827
Interviewer: Dr. Trevor Berryhill
Foreword: Six month operational audit performed in Provisional Containment Chamber 8827-A. Dr. Berryhill enters chamber carrying the bi-annual administrative hardware performance audit report, as well as additional letters received from the fine arts faculty at Dallas College.
<Begin Log>
Recorder starts; it is accompanied by the ghost light coming to life, giving off a faint hum somewhere in the range of sixty cycles.
Dr. Berryhill walks in and pulls a stool up next to the workbench. He places the folder he's carrying down atop the wooden surface, next to various tools arranged thereon.
SCP-8827 stands at a work station in the middle of the shop, polishing a socket wrench with the help of a cloth wrapped in grease. The form is blocky, angular, with absolutely no transparency to its mass under the harsh yellow light emanating from above.
Dr. Berryhill: This is Dr. Trevor Berryhill performing a six month hardware audit of…
Dr. Berryhill glances towards SCP-8827. He reaches over and lightly knocks on the microphone.
Dr. Berryhill: …of William Covington. Understudy audit protocol in Provisional Containment Chamber 8827-A. Current time is 23:15.
SCP-8827 stops mid-motion with the grease-soaked cloth. He wipes the oils from his hands and places the rag back into his toolbox.
SCP-8827: You really plan on mentioning my name during an interview? Wouldn't your review committee rip your ass apart later for this?
Dr. Berryhill: It'll be fine. The committee gets off my ass eventually.
SCP-8827 sets the wrench aside and closes his toolbox with a dull clink.
SCP-8827: You're running a bit late, aren't you? You usually bring the clipboard down before the start of the night shift.
Dr. Berryhill: The Committee deliberations took far too long. They spent an hour straight going line-by-line on quarterly maintenance audits for this sector. It's honestly ridiculous.
SCP-8827: How badly did Day Crew fuck those numbers?
Dr. Berryhill: They didn't. Because of you, there are zero mechanical breakdowns on the rehung machinery. You found all sixteen unnoticed stress points on the secondary isolation barriers using manual inspection sensors alone.
Dr. Berryhill opens his folder and pulls out a sheet of printed paper.
Dr. Berryhill: The Site Director signed off on the official commendation. He wants you to know that your efforts down here are appreciated. Your work saved lives down there. Thank you.
SCP-8827 glances over the document, then looks toward the massive steel door separating the workshop from the rest of the sector building.
SCP-8827 leans against the workbench, crossing his arms over his chest.
SCP-8827: Heard that new tech in Dormitory A had been having bad dreams about those damn flashing red lights. She would freeze up whenever she approached a sealed hall, right?
Dr. Berryhill: Yeah… the recruit was just right out of training. She is practically scared of her own shadow, let alone walking down a pitch-black hallway.
SCP-8827: I'll install a low draw bulb in the hall corner later. Simple fix, right?
Dr. Berryhill takes out a smaller manila envelope and newspaper clipping from his field bag.
Dr. Berryhill: You are a good man, William… I stopped by the college district in Dallas last weekend.
SCP-8827 turns his head slightly towards the envelope in Berryhill's hands.
Dr. Berryhill: Construction of the new Fine Arts Complex begins next spring semester. For the interim period, they've been staging regional drama productions downtown at the Majestic Theatre.
Dr. Berryhill slides the clipping onto the woodwork and positions it underneath the bright light above. The headline displays an image of a young actress taking a curtain call on a proscenium stage, surrounded by fellow performers.
Dr. Berryhill: You recognize her? That's Nora. She played Laura in the Glass Menagerie; she even won first prize for regional drama production.
Silence falls over the recording for twenty seconds.
SCP-8827 moves forward, bringing his hands to rest near the clipping.
SCP-8827 slowly turns around, bringing his gaze upwards towards the shelf positioned over the workbench. Beside the frame containing images of the cast from that very performance sits Clara's old music box.
SCP-8827 reaches up with one rough hand, placing it upon the edge of the wooden shelf.
SCP-8827: I thought I left Clara standing over that body 50 years ago… I thought I'd ruined the girl's life when I couldn't be bothered fixing a goddamn lifeline properly.
Dr. Berryhill: You didn't ruin her life, William. She danced the stage, didn't she? She lived her life, made it a damn good one at that. Because of you.
SCP-8827 looks down from the shelf and back towards the workbench. It grabs hold of Clara's music box key and turns it half a revolution. The mechanism within clicks loudly, producing a clear chiming note from the metal comb.
SCP-8827: …leave the work tickets pinned up to the board, Trevor. I have to replace the seals in two airlocks inside Sector Four before morning roll call. The… the Leather cutting patterns need updating.
Dr. Berryhill: I'll cut the tickets.
Dr. Berryhill pushes himself off of his stool, taking hold of his empty coffee cup and the audit report. He approaches the heavy metal door, looking back at SCP-8827 standing by the workbench.
Dr. Berryhill: Goodnight, William.
SCP-8827 picks up the socket wrench.
SCP-8827: …deck is clear, Trevor. Go ahead and turn in. Get some sleep.
Dr. Berryhill: …
Dr. Berryhill: Before I go, the site director wants you to meet his wife, Dr. Samantha Richardson. She was declassified as an SCP recently and the director want to see you two interact… See you later, William.
Sounds of Dr. Berryhill walking away from the door. The Steel barrier is heard locking itself shut with a faint hiss.
Ghost light continues humming steadily, the sound of the mechanical chimes slowly fading into silence.
Recording shuts off.
<End Log>
