The SCP Experience - “Sadness is Temporary” | SCP-2465

Episode Date: July 12, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-2465. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2465 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Cyrus S. * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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only depot only depose $1B1B1NZ... Depos Minimimimumum of 10 dollars. Veonon to pay They're responsible. The conditions apply. It had been five weeks since Jody last had a client.

So the relief she felt when she opened up her email and saw the highlighted subject line of a new request was almost enough to make her pass out. It was something of a reoccurring theme at this point. Someone would always make an order at the last minute, usually for a wedding cake or a graduation party, or something like that. She would email them back with rush fees and inflated estates. And because there was no one else in town who would work on such short notice, she would land the job and it would be just enough to pay off her bills until the next check came around.

The pattern between then was unbearably up and down, depending on the season and how many students were in town. Her friend Avery had even suggested changing the name from Just Dessert's Bakery to Just Before Rent Bakery. Jody clicked the email and opened up the full window on her computer. The order itself was half a page long, and she had to pause to break out her notebook to jot some things down before continuing. She scrolled all the way down to the special requests section,

and then read through. Just desserts bakery, special instructions request. I would like for the top of the cake to resemble this picture that I have attached. It is a portrait that I found in my grandmother's attic, and I want to surprise her. Thanks in advance. There were three images attached. One was a grainy image of a complicated and likely photoshopped

six-tiered wedding cake titled, Inspiration. And the other two were pictures of a framed oil painting propped up against some boxes. The lighting was abysmal, and the painting itself looked fairly degraded. Jody allowed herself a moment to sit with the customary irritation she was entitled to. She thought the least they could have done would have been to move the painting outside. Of course, she understood nothing about fine art, and for all she knew, that could have sent

the whole thing up in smoke. Who knew? The second picture was more salvageable than the first. It had been taken closer up, and more of the details were available. The portrait looked like it was meant to be a man about mid-30s, with combed back red hair and a wild red beard that was the same color as a chili pepper. The beard was especially scraggly, not matching the far more careful hairstyle, and he wore a dark blue navy wool coat that made him look like a sea captain. He had been placed in the dead center of the portrait and stared out with unsettlingly sharp, bright green eyes. Jody found herself staring at the portrait, not sure of what to make of it. She thought about sending back an email requesting more information.

Was it a relative? Was it the commissioner's grandfather? Or was it just some sort of private joke they had with their grandmother? It was a strange request, no matter what. She could only imagine the amount of fondant and modeling chocolate she would have to use in order to make something of even a close resemblance. Of course, that's a moment. That was a little bit exciting.

The more work and materials involved, the more she could charge. Her kitchen was already fully stocked with what she needed, and she could start right away. But then, there was the drawback of doing all that labor. That part she was not looking forward to. Jody went down her list of what she would need, and blew up the picture as large as she could to make sure she was not missing any details. Six tiers was a lot, so she hoped she could have them down to four.

She did not want the cake toppling over, especially when it had such a massive piece sitting on the highest tier. She also included some more budget-friendly options, such as an edible screen print or a smaller model, and then sent it all out. She did not expect to receive an email back immediately, considering it was almost closing time. But she pondered over whether she should get started on setting out the materials anyway. Jody went to close out the large window that filled up her screen, where she had blown up the picture as large as she could to focus on the color of the sea captain's eyes.

They stared back at her, down to just a few pixels. The look he wore on his craggy face was enough to send a shiver up her spine. She clicked the red X, but then nothing happened. The window didn't close, and her computer just made a weird sound like she had kicked it. Jody furrowed her brow and tried again, clicking multiple times on the X, and then on other parts of the screen. Her computer made that sound again, but nothing happened. Holy fuck, she whispered.

She clicked a few more places and hit every hotkey combination she knew. You had better not. I can't afford to replace you. Shit! Her eyes kept going back to the grainy, unsettling gaze. The longer she looked at it, the more angry she felt. This is so stupid, she thought. It isn't even a very good painting.

What is this? Some kind of virus? Your stupid bad painting destroyed my computer, asshole. She kept trying. Finally, the computer made one more angry, whirring noise, and then shut down completely. The screen went black, and those green eyes disappeared. Her computer tower whirred and put off a smell like something was burning. She went down to touch the power button to see if she could get her monitor back on. It was so hot to the touch, she pulled her fingers back like she had been burned.

What is that? A voice came from behind her. It was a man's voice, but strangely vintage, like he had just walked off the set of an old Hollywood film. Jody nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned around, Her heart racing in her chest. We close in ten minutes, she started to say, as if they had actually had any customers all day. She should give the guy a discount on the whole store.

That might actually pull her out of the negative for once. Is there anything that I can? The rest of her words died on her throat. The man standing at the counter was wearing a dark blue wool coat, even though it was the middle of summer. He had combed red hair and a beard that looked like it was made of copper. copper wires. They spiraled out in every direction, fraying and curling and springing towards his nose. He raised his heavy brows and gave her a look with the sharpest, most vicious

green eyes she had ever seen. Now she was convinced that she was hallucinating. Jody looked back at the computer where the screen was still black and then looked back at the man who was standing in front of her counter. She opened her mouth, but the only sound that came out was an astonished little squawk. The man looked irritated. He walked around the side of the counter and then led himself through the swinging door that was only about the height of his hip for his lurching frame. Is it back here? he asked. Jody shook herself out of her trance and followed him. No. She said. I mean, yes, the kitchen is there and the workstation is just slightly to the left of that. What do you, I mean, can I help you? No patrons are allowed to.

back there. I am here to make it better, the red-haired man grumbled. It needs to be better. It is bad. He stroked his beard. Very bad. What is bad? Her spine stiffened indignantly. All my cakes here are of exceptional quality. Bad, bad, the man shook his head. Very bad. And not much time, not much at time at all. He stopped at the kitchen door and looked around. have sworn she saw all the wheels in his head turning behind his eyes. Where is it? This is it, Jody said. This is the kitchen, and like I said, you are not allowed back here. I can do it from memory, the red-haired man said.

He pushed up the sleeves of his blue woolen coat and stood in front of the workstation, staring down at the stainless steel countertop as if all the materials he needed were going to manifest in front of him. This is how you do it, he said. This is how you make it better. What are you going to do? Jody's heart hammered. She thought about calling the police, but she wasn't sure where she would begin.

After all, this man had not threatened her in any way. He was not listening to her, but he was probably just drunk, or his mind was not entirely present. She had handled a few such similar cases before. It was part and parcel of being a business owner. And then, if the police did escort him off the property, she would have to stay all that much later to close down. Not to mention, she would have to stay there until they showed up.

She would rather just chase him out on her own. The man did not answer. He just pulled down a container of pre-made modeling chocolate, and he set to work. He found the shaping instruments too, the delicate little razors, and steel balls she used to make craters and shave off extraneous pieces. He started with modeling the chocolate, and then he moved into Rice Krispies and Fondent,

taking over more and more of the kitchen as his busy hands worked to create. He was moving at light speed, his fingers grabbing and twisting and bending with such practiced expertise that all she could do was stand there and admire his skill. She felt helpless, like she ought to be doing something. If she wasn't going to chase him out, she felt like she could at least be helping. That did not seem to be what he wanted either. He ignored her completely, treating her like she did not exist. The lump of chocolate and marshmallow cereal started to take a recognizable shape.

She watched him add on piece after piece until it began to resemble himself. In fact, the way it was posed made it look exactly like the picture of the painting she had been sent. A chill turned into a ball of ice, which dropped into her stomach and made her whole body feel cold. There was no way he could know about the email she had been sent, unless this was all some sort of prank and she was not in on the joke. His hands moved faster, like he was running out of time. The red-haired man kept adding on more and more, kneading blue food coloring into the fondant to make his coat,

and then adding red to another fondant ball. He started slicing up thinner and thinner pieces, twisting them, and looping them around his finger to make the many curls and stuck out pieces of his beard. He placed them all carefully, using intense precision that should have been impossible for someone who had not yet stopped to even ask a question about where something could be found. He seemed to know where everything was, which was terrifying, the more Jody thought about it.

He knew everything, as if he was siphoning the information directly from her brain. and that made her want to cry. He crouched down in front of the workstation and leaned in, jabbing the edge of a razor against one of the ears, muttering, It is just not right. Then his hand slipped. Jody did not see what caused it,

and the razor came down. It sliced the ear clean off the sculpture, and a red stain appeared in the very center of the Rice Krispies underneath. The red-haired man ground his teeth and let out aloud, ghoulish way. He slammed both his meaty hands against the workstation table, and the sculpture in front of him shivered. More red appeared from the center of the shaped cereal, and then it began to flow out. It was moving slowly, first.

Enough that it looked like jelly or syrup, but it filled the room with the smell of old pennies, and then it started gushing. It came out hard and fast, like a fountain, and pulled on the surface of the stainless steel counter. It did not look like syrup anymore, but Jody could not bring herself to wrap her mind around what she thought it was. After all, it was impossible for food sculptures to bleed. It had to be that he had cut his hand or something, and she simply had not seen it. No! The word came tearing free from his throat in a dark growl.

No, no, no! It needs to be fixed! He slammed his hands against the counter again, splashing dark red everywhere. It splattered against the white wall behind the sculpture and onto the shelves that flanked the workstation. It needs to be better. There is no time. Not enough time. Sir! Jody's voice broke. You have to go. You have to go now. You should not be back here. Her instinct was to run. The violent fit made her wish that she had called the police. She supposed that it was not too late. But even as she was backing towards the door,

She kept her eye on the red-haired man in front of her in case he decided to pick up one of those knives and take his frustration out on her. I have to fix it! He grabbed the sculpture and raised it off the table. It has to be fixed! He started tearing it apart. Bits and pieces of cereal and modeling chocolate went flying

while Jody dropped to the ground. Her hands and knees slammed against the floor and she began to scurry out of the way, hiding underneath a nearby table and cringing every time another chunk of Rice Krispy's treat landed a little too close. The red-haired man continued to bellow and scream about needing to make something look perfect.

Red fondant flew like shrapnel across the room, and Jody made herself as small as she could, lowering herself until her chin was almost pressed against the cold tile floor. She watched the man from underneath her table. His fingers dug into the center of his creation and ripped it apart in brutal hunger. Then, it was quiet, like the silence following a gunshot. Jody blinked again, and the man was gone, having vanished as quickly as he appeared.

Where he had been standing, there was still a mess. Sticky clumps of the statue he had tried to create were stuck to the stainless steel edges of her workstation, and red fondant was smeared over every possible surface. There were little pieces of bloated, soggy cereal floating in the pot. puddles of blood that it dribbled off the workstation surface and pooled on the floor. The disgusting visual made Jody feel like she had to throw up. The whole area looked like a crime scene. She knew that she should be grateful it had not turned into one.

She bolted out of the kitchen so quickly that she did not even bother to glance behind her. If the red-haired man was still there, she was going to get out before he could find her again. Clearly, whatever he was, he was absolutely unhinged. She might make that phone call to the police after all, especially with how much product he had stolen and then damaged. It had to be a prank. Jody grabbed her keys from where they were sitting by her computer, but she could not even look at the monitor.

If it was on and still frozen, she did not want to see those awful green eyes again. Jody let herself out of her bakery and stood there on the sidewalk, trying to give herself a moment to collect her wits while figuring out her next move. She pulled out her cell phone and glanced at the emergency call button on her screen. She glanced back into the bakery and squinted, trying to see past the light from the sun that was setting behind her head. No crazy red-haired man came running at the door to try and jiggle the handles.

Her phone buzzed with a new notification. Jody glanced down and saw a new email pop up. Glad for the distraction, she opened it up and scrolled through the details. A standard cake order. Thank heaven. She closed out of the email. It was past her business hours. She would respond later.

Jody went back through her inbox to see if the other client had responded with an explanation for the portrait. Even though thinking about the red-haired man almost sent her into another panic attack. She was rooted to her spot there on the sidewalk, and for some reason, she could not bring herself to move. Distracting herself with work was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. But there was no second email. There was not even a first. And it should have been there, sitting at the top of her inbox, with her last reply waiting in the message preview. Jody furrowed her brow and checked all her folders, wondering if she had accidentally deleted it.

But there was nothing. No record that it had even existed. Jody glanced back up and looked into her bakery. She had left in such a hurry that she had put nothing away. She would have to come down early in the morning to clean up. She kept looking to see if the red-haired man was there. She expected him to come out from her. the kitchen, dripping red fondant from between the narrow spaces of his fingers and tightly squeezed fists. The green eyes captured hers, and her heart jumped. She sprang back from the door,

and then heat brought an angry, embarrassed flush to her face. The man wasn't standing there. It was just her stupid monitor. It had come back on, and the picture was still there, frozen on the main screen. It was still blown up, and the focus was still on the painting's eyes. They stared at her, furious and vividly green, like a forest after a lightning storm. She backed away, slowly, and glanced down at her phone again. How was it possible? She would ask herself that later, once she was safe at home. Jody didn't linger.

She just took off in a run. SCP 2465 is a watercolor painting titled, La Tristeza E. Temporanea. The subject varies per viewer, but 85% see a Caucasian male, aged 30 to 40, with red hair and a beard. It is generally viewed as mediocre in quality. When observed continuously, SCP 2465 induces its anomalous effects within 43 seconds to 37 minutes, quicker for those with more artistic experience. The observer, designated SCP 2465-1, feels compelled to create higher quality art,

often resulting in an attempted replica of SCP 2465, regardless of their medium. This can include painting, pottery, film, culinary art, and more. The replicas lack anomalous properties, but filming or photographing SCP 2465 produces duplicates with similar effects. SCP 2465-1 typically becomes frustrated with their creations and attempts multiple projects, leading to distress and severe depression. Class A amnestics can restore their mental state to before exposure.

SCP 2465 was discovered in an abandoned house in Arles, Italy, after six real estate agents became SCP 2465-1 instances. The painting is believed to have been created in the 1800s by the last known owner, who died by suicide.