The SCP Experience - Last Dance | SCP-3519

Episode Date: August 18, 2025

At an opulent Valentine’s rooftop party, Morgan’s search for romance turns to horror when she realizes she’s stumbled into an SCP-3519 “Last Dance” suicide pact—driven by a memetic contagion that convinces its victims the world will end on March 5th. This story was derived from ⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3519 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. ⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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WestJet, where your story takes off. Morgan wasn't a fan of Valentine's Day, but when her best friend begged her to attend a rooftop party, she couldn't say no. Her only other option was sitting at home, watching cheesy romantic comedies with her cast. and wondering if she'd ever find a decent guy. Maybe tonight was her chance.

That's what she told herself as she donned a black body-con dress that showed off her curves and carefully applied her favorite deep red lipstick. She smiled at herself in the mirror. Tonight's the night, she told her reflection. But even her reflection didn't quite believe it. Her phone pinged with a text from Chanel, announcing she was in there Uber downstairs. Morgan sighed and tried to infuse her smile with confidence.

It almost worked. She hurried into the hallway, throwing a quick smile at her neighbor with the yapping dog. The elevator ride sped her downstairs, where her friend waited in the Uber. Chanel was her usual bubbly self, chatting animatedly during their ride through the city. Morgan was slightly distracted by the giant diamonds on her friend's neck. Chanel noticed her stare and smiled. They're great, aren't they? Are they real?

Of course they are. Morgan stared at the stones. They glittered in the moonlight, streaming through the windows. Did you just win the lottery or something? Like Morgan, Chanel was a grade school teacher. While they both loved teaching, it wasn't exactly a lucrative career. And while Chanel had expensive taste, she was usually careful with her money. often buying second-hand and looking for a good sale.

She rarely bought anything unless it was at least 30% off the regular price. And even if that necklace was 50% off, it would still cost more than a year's salary. Chanel shrugged as if she didn't struggle with money as much as Morgan did, although Morgan knew that was false. I thought I would treat myself. It's a special occasion after all. Valentine's Day? skepticism leaked from Morgan's words.

This one is going to be extra special. I just know it. Chanel's eyes glittered like the diamonds on her neck. Morgan simply nodded, not wanting to dampen her friends sparkle. But make sure you leave by midnight, okay? Morgan frowned. Why is that? Aren't we leaving together?

Not if I can help it. Chanel smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She had a habit of going home. with losers and regretting it the next day. Morgan was tempted to warn her not to repeat the pattern, but it was Valentine's Day. Maybe that's what she needed tonight. She kept her mouth shut and decided not to press the issue. Why midnight, though? Chanel hesitated. I've just heard that all the creeps come out after that. It was a lame excuse, but again, Morgan didn't bother asking further questions. She was planning to leave early anyway. Oh, okay. I'll leave by midnight, I guess.

Good. Chanel nodded like the matter was settled, even though Morgan felt more confused than ever. There was something her friend wasn't telling her, but she hadn't the faintest idea what it could be. They arrived at the building a few minutes later, and a doorman welcomed them inside with a strained smile. Here for the party? You bet! Chanel exclaimed. He nodded, but said nothing further. When Morgan looked back, he was still staring at them, worriedly.

She met his gaze, and he opened his mouth to speak before seeming to think better of it and turning away. Strange. But Morgan's attention was quickly diverted by the opulence in the building's lobby. The floors were white marble, and large columns lined the space. The chandelier high above them sparkled, casting a warm glow below, and in the center of it all sat a water fountain trickling peacefully. A statue of a man and woman embracing was featured in the middle, smiles lighting up their faces.

Morgan gazed wistfully at the scene, but Chanel grabbed her hand to drag her to the elevator. How did you hear about this party again? Morgan gaped at her friend. Chanel smiled and shrugged. from a friend. Morgan raised her eyebrows. Chanel had rich friends?

She'd never mentioned them before. But if this is what the lobby looked like, she was eager to get to the actual party. When the elevator dinged and they stepped onto the rooftop, she wasn't disappointed. The space was huge and featured a bar at either end, a swimming pool and a hot tub in the middle. All this was surrounded by grassy areas

with lawn chairs and tables, cozy nooks and crannies, and semi-hidden sofas for a semblance of privacy. Red, heart-shaped balloons littered the space, and a large sign was tied between two fake trees that said, Happy Last Dance. What do they mean by Last Dance? Morgan turned to her friend. But Chanel had already disappeared in the crowd. She'd probably already spotted a cute guy. Lucky her. Morgan made her way through the party guy. and waiters, carrying trays of canopies and drinks, and sat herself down at the bar. She ordered a tequila shot and observed the scene. It was an eclectic crowd, with people in all kinds of dress, from skimpy bikinis to formal

ballgowns and tuxedos. She even spotted a few people in pajamas, and some in the pool wearing nothing at all. Her eyebrows rose at that, and she quickly looked away. Her gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired man standing in a group nearby. He was dressed casually in khaki shorts and a t-shirt that clung to his muscled chest. He turned and met her gaze. An electric zing traveled down her arms as she stared into his yellow-green eyes. She instinctively sat up straighter and flashed him a smile.

Your tequila, miss? She turned as the bartender interrupted her magical moment, but she needed the tequila more than ever. She downed it and suppressed a shudder as it coated her throat and set her lungs on fire. When she turned back to the mysterious stranger, he was gone. She pouted and ordered another drink, a Long Island iced tea this time. Drink in hand, she joined a random group that appeared to be in a heated discussion. I think it's going to be an earthquake that will swallow the world whole.

I think it'll be a flood. These are modern times, people. it's more likely to be some kind of technological disaster. A woman in a tutu noticed Morgan and smiled politely. We're talking about March 5th if you haven't already guessed. How do you think it's going to happen? Um... Morgan knew about March 5th, of course.

Everybody did. Even though no one knew how it all got started. You got a different answer from every person you asked. One would tell you that it came from an ancient Aztec prophecy. While another might claim their... source as the White House and the President himself. It didn't matter where it came from, though. All believers said the same thing. The world was going to end on March 5th. At first, it had seemed like the ramblings of crazy people, but the idea somehow caught on, and now it was more

common to believe in the imminent destruction of the earth than it was not to. Morgan and Chanel were the few teachers at school who refused to accept it. According to the gym teacher, They were in denial, but they would have the last laugh when March 6th rolled around. Morgan immediately regretted joining this particular conversation. She'd heard enough debates in the teacher's lounge about how the world was going to fall apart. She didn't come here to listen to more. But now everyone in the group stared at her, waiting for an answer. That's how it felt anyway.

Morgan desperately scanned the crowd for her friend, but Chanel had vanished. I think anything is possible. She finished, lamely. The man in the tuxedo beside her scoffed. How boring! You aren't even going to theorize? Morgan shrugged. Wait, you do believe in it, don't you?

The tutu-clad woman was staring at her with round eyes. Uh-oh. This is what she had been trying to avoid. She couldn't understand why everyone who believed in the March 5th destruction was so determined to convert others, especially considering how high the suicide rate had become since the theory started spreading like a disease. Why did it matter whether she believed in it or not?

It was either going to happen or it wouldn't, regardless of who believed. Plus, she didn't want to feel the disappointed or pitiful gazes of the group. She opened her mouth to respond, still unsure whether the words would be the truth or a lie, when a hand clasped her shoulder. She melted in relief and turned to thank her friend when she met the eyes of the dark stranger again.

Oh, hi. He smiled, showing dazzling white teeth. Even more handsome up close, the man possessed the sharp cheekbones and jawline of a model, not to mention perfect skin and just the right amount of stubble. In looks, he was Morgan's dream guy to a tea, which probably meant that he had an awful personality, but she was willing to find out. I'm Dante, and you are?

Yours. The word almost fell from Morgan's lips, but she caught herself just in time. She cleared her throat. Morgan, nice to meet you. He clasped her hand in his, and sparks shot through her fingers. His eyes widened, and she knew that he felt it too. Do you want to go somewhere and talk? She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He kept her hand in his and led her to a quiet alcove with a love seat overlooking the city view. The air was filled with a gentle breeze and the promise of something new and exciting. So, what do you do for work? I'm just a great school teacher, Morgan loved her job, but it was hardly impressive. She liked to get the whole work conversation over with as quickly as possible. She expected Dante to gloss over her reply, but he didn't. His eyes widened, and he smiled. Wow, that's amazing.

I'm sure your students love you. Morgan hesitated, trying to decipher his intentions. He seemed genuine, but it could be a front. However, she couldn't help the smile and blush that formed on her face. Thank you. That's very sweet. What do you do? I mean it. Teachers are incredibly important.

He gazed into her eyes, and her heart melted. She believed him. He waited for her to reply, and when she didn't, he answered her question. I work at a non-profit animal sanctuary. Morgan's jaw dropped. That was the last thing she expected. With that face and body, she thought he was definitely a model or actor or something. I've always had a soft spot for animals, and I hate to see them hurt.

Many people treat them like trash, and I try to show them that not all humans are scum. We actually have a baby beaver right now. Do you want to see it? He pulled out his phone as Morgan nodded vigorously. Was this it? Had Morgan finally met her man? The longer they talked, the more excited she became. Unlike other attractive men she dated, Dante was intelligent.

and funny, and he liked cats. They slowly drifted towards each other throughout the conversation until she was practically in his lap. She was no longer aware of the crowd surrounding them or the speakers pumping out the latest hits. It was just her and Dante, alone in their own little world. One that, she hoped, was going to last much longer than the few weeks they supposedly had left.

Morgan had been on plenty of dates in her 28 years, but she felt more connected to Dante than she had to anyone, even her college boyfriend of three years. Midnight came and went, and Morgan remained on the couch with Dante, oblivious to the time. They talked about everything from childhoods to celebrity crushes to their most embarrassing moments. The only thing that never came up was the future.

She didn't dare ask him about his plans, for the next few years, but she was already dreaming about their future together. They would have the cutest kids. She was picturing their sweet little faces when Dante leaned forward and rested a hand on her knee. She suddenly realized that she had no idea what he'd been saying. His gaze was so earnest, so full of hope that she couldn't help but say yes, even though she had no idea what what she was agreeing to. It didn't matter. She would do anything as long as he was there. Of course! He smiled and leaned in to kiss her. She reveled in the feel of him, and he pulled away all too soon. I wish I had met you sooner, he said. Morgan frowned. What did that mean? Before she could

ask him, the music paused and started up again, louder than before. The final countdown blasted across the rooftop and out into the city. Dante stood up, pulling Morgan with him. He led her to the edge of the roof, and together they gazed down at the busy streets below. Are you ready? I guess, she replied, hiding her confusion behind a tentative smile. He continued holding her hand as he scaled the railing

and teetered on the edge of the building. She stood there with him, feeling the wind on her skin, and the fast beating of her heart. Dante flashed her another smile, and suddenly something felt very, very wrong. Her brain struggled through the fog of alcohol and love-sick sleep. What was she doing?

Morgan shook her head and carefully pulled her hand from his. She wasn't afraid of heights, but also wasn't comfortable standing on the edge of a 30-story building, even if Dante held her hand. She trusted him, but not that much. His mouth moved, but she couldn't hear the words as she returned to the other side of the railing. The music blasted even louder, and she was tempted to cover her ears as the lyrics pounded into her head. She suddenly felt nauseous, and every pore in her body signaled danger.

Desperate to get away, she gestured for Dante to join her, trying to convey her need to run from that rooftop. Dante stared at her, but he stayed where he was, determined, resolute. He shook his head and turned back to the edge of the roof. Morgan's mind screamed at her to run to look away, to reach out to him. But she remained frozen, her heart beating out of her chest. She struggled to breathe as she stared at the man on the ledge. Will things ever be the same again? As the song reached the climax and the words of the chorus blared in her ears, Dante jumped.

Morgan's scream was drowned out by the lyrics. It's the fuck. She turned around to look for help, but what she found was even more horrifying than what she'd already seen. Everywhere she looked, partygoers were either jumping off the roof like Dante had, seizing on the ground with foam around their mouths, or staring blankly into space, waiting for the drugs to take effect. The servers and bartenders had all disappeared. Someone by the pool screamed,

Valhalla! Before doing a cannonball, splashing water all over the deck. She jumped as the air fizzed with a little. electricity, followed by a loud crack and a smell of burned flesh. With growing horror, Morgan realized that someone had released a high-voltage power line into the pool. There had been at least 30 people in it, not counting the ones sitting in the water on the deck. Although Morgan saw this, she went into shock. She must have fallen asleep and was having some kind of sick nightmare. Soon, she'd wake up and look into Dante's beautiful eyes. She would go

home and recount her night to Chanel, and then remember this night as the time she met her future husband, the best Valentine's Day ever. Everything would be fine. The thought of her friend sparked a new desperation in her. Where was Chanel? She hadn't seen her since they arrived. Had she gone home already? She told Morgan to leave by midnight, so surely she would do the same. It was already one o'clock. Morgan's gaze snagged on the sign that she'd noticed when she walked in. Happy last dance. And suddenly everything clicked. The group talking about March 5th, the way people partied like it was their last night, without a care in the world, Dante's words, I wish I had met you sooner. This wasn't a Valentine's party. This was a suicide party.

And with a sinking feeling, Morgan realized that Chanel had known all along. No, no, no, no, Oh, no, Morgan kept repeating the word as she searched the bodies for her friend. The music suddenly stopped, and she was left with the silence of the dead and dying. For a moment, there was no sound at all, just a mild ringing in her ears as she surveyed the scene. Bodies were everywhere. They floated in the pool, spayed out on the couches, and sat frozen on the deck. Morgan carefully picked her way through them, making sure not to step in any of the public. She met the stony stairs of people who had been so alive mere moments ago. The woman with the tutu had a smile on her face as she drifted by on a pool float.

Morgan had never even asked her name. She found Chanel in a secluded corner of the rooftop near a copse of fake palm trees. She was lying on a couch, her fingers still curled around her empty cup. A group of strangers surrounded her, all holding their own cups. Some of them had liquid dribbling from their chins. She wanted to wipe it away, but didn't dare touch it. Her fingers found Chanel's neck, checking for a pulse. But she already knew her friend was gone.

She grabbed her hand, not get cold, and wept bitterly. The diamonds around Chanel's neck still glittered, even though her eyes did not. Morgan cursed herself for not being there, for not seeing the sign. When did Chanel start believing in the end of the world? She'd never said anything. She certainly never indicated that she was planning suicide before the supposed catastrophe. Why did she bring her to the party?

Morgan wanted to scream at her friend, but she knew why. Chanel wanted to be with her one last time. She wanted to feel the excitement of going to a party together before she stopped going to them forever. To her credit, she had tried to spare Morgan. She told her to leave by midnight. It wasn't her fault that Morgan had gotten so wrapped up in Dante that she forgot the time.

Dante. A fresh wave of pain doused Morgan as she thought of the man she had momentarily seen a future with. Those beautiful eyes that chiseled jawline and the brilliant mind beneath his dark curly hair shattered into pieces on the cement below. Sirens sounded in the distance and she knew they were coming here.

His body would be collected soon, along with all the others. She didn't dare look over the edge where he had fallen. She could imagine his broken body well enough without seeing it, and that image would remain with her for the rest of her life. Every lifeless face she had looked into would live in her memory forever. It would be no escaping this night. She would remember it forever, but not for the reason she thought. Morgan blinked back her tears as a raspy voice called out nearby.

She reluctantly let go of Chanel's hand to search for the source. She found a young man, probably 18 years old, lying on his side in a pool of vomit. Morgan quickly knelt down beside him. It's okay. The ambulance is on its way. The boy pulled away from her and shook his head. He pointed a shaking hand towards the cups on the table by Chanel and the others. Some of them were still full. Please. Morgan's heart dropped as she realized what he was asking.

Why would you want that? I'll get you help. You'll be fine. But again, he shook his head, more insistently this time. The end is coming, he whispered. And in that moment, Morgan knew it was true. She had been foolish not to believe earlier. Why hadn't she listened to all those people who warned her of what was coming? She was ignorant, blinded by her pride. Dante had tried to help her, and now she understood. What was the point in sticking around here, waiting for the end, when you could skip right to the afterlife? Why should she face the pain and horror of a natural catastrophe if she could simply end it right here, right now, on her own terms?

She grabbed two cubs from the table and handed one to the boy. She pictured Chanel, with her tinkling laugh and infectious smile, and Dante, with his soulful eyes and soulful eyes and soft lips. I'll see you soon, she thought as she handed one cup to the boy and raised the other. Cheers. She clinked their cups together and took a sip. The doorman watched the police carry the body bags to the van waiting outside. He counted the casualties, each one weighing on his heart.

He had seen every one of these people enter the building, full of life and excitement, and now they were nothing but corpses. So much youth and vigor. gone in an instant. His break started when the music did. He knew what the song meant, knew what time it was. He called the police and warned them of what was coming. They didn't sound surprised. They didn't even tell him to try to stop it. They told him to stay where he was, and he did. He looked away from the windows to avoid seeing any of the jumpers. Even with his eyes closed, he couldn't deny reality. The bodies were piled into the van, and another one was called.

for. Two policemen set down the body they were holding, and the body bag slipped open to reveal the woman's face. He remembered her from earlier. She had come in with her friend. Unlike many of the others, she didn't look determined, but merely curious. He almost said something to her. They had locked eyes, and he wanted to tell her not to do it, but he kept silent, and now she was gone. March 5th would come and go, but none of these people would be here. to see it. They'd had their last dance, and there would be no more. SCP 3519 is a memetic contagion, spread through media and word of mouth, causing individuals to adopt an unshakable belief that the world will end on March 5, 2019, and that suicide

before this date is not only justified but desirable. Though the specifics of the predicted apocalypse vary widely, ranging from religious and astronomical events to technical chronological collapse, all infected individuals exhibit millinarian behavior, ecstatic conviction, and suicidal ideation. Despite no real evidence or elevated risk of global catastrophe, those fully infected inevitably die by suicide within 40 days of adopting the belief.