SCP-2246

Description

SCP-2246 refers to any volumes¹ written by SCP-2246-1 under the pen-name Phoenix Snow. New text manifests in the current unfinished volume, as though manually typewritten, at an infrequent and inconsistent rate. A new unfinished volume will manifest with the other volumes when the current volume reaches a conclusion (typically between 10 and 900 pages). All volumes contain little in the way of a linear, coherent narrative, instead being written via stream-of-consciousness.

When a page is held open for more than five seconds, the text of the page will be read aloud in SCP-2246-1's disembodied voice. Its tone when reading is subdued and nervous. This effect is less common in volumes produced by SCP-2246-1 after its initial containment, with some volumes lacking this effect entirely.

The final page of SCP-2246 instances contains an opening which subjects can pass through to enter the space where SCP-2246-1 resides. If this space is accessed from finished volumes, it will display a scene from the story. If it is accessed from the current unfinished volume, it will be featureless except for a desk upon which a typewriter and several sheaves of paper can be found.

SCP-2246-1 is a Hispanic humanoid who claims to have originated from Brazil, as well as having been around 20 years old. SCP-2246-1 displays no need for sustenance or bodily functions. If SCP-2246-1 is encountered in a finished volume, it will not acknowledge any subjects in the area, and will continue to perform its current actions without speaking. Communication is only possible via latest instances of SCP-2246. SCP-2246-1 can not leave SCP-2246 for unknown reasons; research into this is ongoing.

Interview 2246-E Transcript:

Interviewed: SCP-2246-1

Interviewer: Junior Psychologist Blake Yamagusuku

Foreword: Interview takes place in Volume 50, "A Retelling of Nicolas Terrance's Egregious Adventures"².

<Begin Log, 16:01>

Psychologist Yamagusuku: Afternoon, Phoenix. How goes the writing process?

SCP-2246-1: Stale, stale, stale, stale. I've been staring at the wall for… [SCP-2246-1 hums for a minute, staring at the typewriter.] Last time we spoke. I don't have any inspiration to write. I don't know. Where does this go?

Yamagusuku: What do you think the story will be?

SCP-2246-1: I'm not good with stories.

Yamagusuku: Then… images. What images come to mind?

SCP-2246-1: Cars driving sideways up the floor. Kids climbing into cafés after-school and trading comics like currency. My partner gets into bed with me, and I can feel their hand massage my back, while I lay there still trying to write. Nicolas is there too, crooning about his jealousy of my success. Success…

Yamagusuku: A partner? What was their name?

SCP-2246-1: No, I didn't have one. A friend though, I had a friend. My partner is modeled after him and the character in his books. Avery was his name. Both their names. He was very close to me, and very kind. Avery was also unsure about his writing, but he helped me sometimes. I guess he was my inspiration a lot. He's the protagonist in Volume 13³.

[SCP-2246-1 pauses for four seconds before sitting upright and typing for the next six minutes. Immediately after finishing, SCP-2246-1 gets up, walking small circles near the desk.]

SCP-2246-1: It must have been at least thirty volumes since I wrote so self-assuredly… I can't think of what to write next.

Yamagusuku: Do you think changing styles would help?

SCP-2246-1: Devil you know, devil you know.

Yamagusuku: Well… might be a silly idea, but how about this. Whenever I can't think of anything to write, I just try to think of weird situations for my characters to be in. Something that could never be plausible. See where that takes me after.

SCP-2246-1: I don't understand?

Yamagusuku: "Nick woke up from last night's escapade, confused about his immediate surroundings. Why was the roof gone and the sky brown? It made no sense."

[SCP-2246-1 stops pacing, turning their attention to Yamagusuku and sitting down in the chair.]

Yamagusuku: "He rolled out of bed, into the ocean, and found a nearby building floating in the sea. With no other options around, he decided to swim for it, looking for answers. Finally, he got to the door, opened it, and crawled in."

SCP-2246-1: And? [SCP-2246-1 leans in.]

Yamagusuku: "And as Nick entered the building, scouring for supplies to support himself, he came across his greatest fear, one that has haunted his nightmares for weeks on end…" [Yamagusuku jumps up and waves their arms.] "A spooky robot!"

[Silence for eight seconds. SCP-2246-1 snorts, laughing. Yamagusuku sits back down, also laughing, before both fully stop 14 seconds later.]

Yamagusuku: That might have been the first time you smiled since I started interviewing you.

SCP-2246-1: It was maybe the first original idea had here. Not sure it'll fit my style or narrative, though.

Yamagusuku: You don't think you could even adapt that to how you write?

SCP-2246-1: Devil you know. [SCP-2246-1 turns back to the typewriter, staring at it.] Nicolas gets up, walking along clouds of water. He finds himself stuck between places, unsure of where to go. He's still jealous of the cars and the kids and my partner and I, but he never thinks about why he's jealous. He doesn't have a reason to be jealous.

Yamagusuku: Why do you think he's jealous?

SCP-2246-1: I'm not sure. I feel like it should be the other way around.

Yamagusuku: Is he jealous of Avery?

SCP-2246-1: No. He wouldn't know him. Even in my imagination, they've never been able to meet each other before. [Silence for 8 seconds.] If I finish this story, can you please not read it?

Yamagusuku: Sorry, Phoenix. I need to read these. It helps me understand you better and makes these interviews easier.

[SCP-2246-1 hums for 12 seconds before typing. SCP-2246-1 continues typing for the rest of the session without acknowledging Yamagusuku.]

<End Log, 16:30>

Interview 2246-AQ Transcript:

Interviewed: SCP-2246-1

Interviewer: Junior Psychologist Blake Yamagusuku

Foreword: Interview takes place in Volume 51, "Phoenix and the Fox in the Snow".

<Begin Log, 16:01>

[Silence for 18 minutes from both parties. SCP-2246-1 hums and taps their foot. Yamagusuku takes notes.]

SCP-2246-1: I can't think anymore.

Psychologist Yamagusuku: Hmm? Why do you say that?

SCP-2246-1: I've had nothing to say to you the past five times you've been here, and nothing to write since before that. No images are coming to me anymore. The faucets in my head have stopped. Writing was a hard interest of mine to invest in before, and now. I'm not sure if I have any more to give.

Yamagusuku: That was a nice image you gave right there, wasn't it?

SCP-2246-1: Metaphors aren't images.

Yamagusuku: Hmm.

[Silence for another two minutes.]

Yamagusuku: What do you plan to do then, if you can't write more?

SCP-2246-1: Dream, if I can. I regret writing. It was probably a mistake to be invested. Maybe I can still dream. I wish I could sleep. [SCP-2246-1 gets up and paces around the desk, biting their fingernails.]

Yamagusuku: I imagine lying down and closing your eyes does nothing for you.

SCP-2246-1: Nothing. [Silence for 20 seconds.] I wish I knew what I'm working towards. It makes me feel nervous too.

Yamagusuku: Nervous how?

SCP-2246-1: How many stories do I need to write before I feel good about myself? I don't want to work forever to no end. And the fact that so many eyes are on me… I felt better when only my friend and I could read my writing. It was more personal and intimate. This doesn't feel personal and intimate… I can feel the eyes on my works. It's like making eye contact. There's no personal space anymore.

Yamagusuku: Is this why you don't read your stories anymore?

SCP-2246-1: Before when it was almost no one else, I felt more sure about it. But now there are these strangers watching. How else am I supposed to feel about that?

[Silence for two minutes. SCP-2246-1 types one word before stopping, lying their head on the desk and humming softly for thirty-two seconds.]

SCP-2246-1: It doesn't matter too much what people think of my stories, right? I'm just writing for myself now. So I can write whatever I want… that's what I should be saying, isn't it.

Yamagusuku: How did the reading help you before? It sounds like it was really personal, whoever was originally hearing you read.

[Silence for one minute. SCP-2246-1 raises head, staring at the desk.]

Yamagusuku: You don't need to keep reading your work, whether out of habit or will. It might be easier to keep writing and find joy in it again if you stop having that expectation. There's no need to do it just because you feel like you need to.

SCP-2246-1: Then who should I be doing this for? I don't understand.

Yamagusuku: For Avery?

SCP-2246-1: No. He would be disappointed with where I am now, I think.

Yamagusuku: Then for yourself. And if you can't write for yourself, then you could try to write for no one. It might be more helpful than it sounds.

SCP-2246-1: Hmm. [SCP-2246-1 sits up with a less tense posture, staring at the typewriter.]

Yamagusuku: I'd recommend trying that out for a little bit and see how it feels for you. There's no need to dive head-first into anything new, alright?

SCP-2246-1: Okay.

<End log, 16:30>

Postscript: SCP-2246-1 finished "Phoenix and the Fox in the Snow" two days later at three pages. They seemed to shift in demeanor by the end of the interview. Hopefully, this had a positive effect overall. ~ Junior Psychologist Blake Yamagusuku

Addendum 2246-B SCP-2246 volumes have been produced at a more consistent rate since Interview 2246-AQ. The prose is more conventionally-written and entirely devoid of any readings by SCP-2246-1.