Although SCP-250 does not physically require nutrition, it is to be 
fed one live adult pig every two (2) days in order to regulate its 
aggression and hunting instincts. The remnants of its meal are to be 
removed from its enclosure no less than one (1) hour after the onset 
of its nightly dormancy period; this includes cleaning any residual 
biological debris from SCP-250's physical components with 
compressed air and whisk brooms. At no point during cleaning are 
any of SCP-250's physical components to be moved by more than 1 
meter in any direction, as this risks disrupting its dormancy. 
Dormancy ends within five minutes of sunrise; access to SCP-250's 
containment during its activity period is prohibited. 


Description: SCP-250 is the animate fossil skeleton of an allosaur 
(originally identified as Allosaurus fragilis; however, an incomplete 
scientific article found in the personal effects of paleontologist Dr 
indicates that this classification may have been erroneous). It 
consists of 153 disarticulated bones, and 14 plaster-and-fiberglass 
replacements, held together and animated by an unknown force. 
Study of this force is hindered by SCP-250's aggressive behavior, 
which has been assessed by Foundation palaeozoologists as being 


Summary: Mr. Izquierdo invites Agent Esquivel to watch a football 
match at the home of an acquaintance. 


Result: Near-breach of containment of SCP-2188. 
+ Access Additional Documentation 


Agent Comments: We had some time to kill before the 
painters arrived. | had never known Pablo to posit 
himself as the subject of someone's work, but this was a 
special occasion, he told me, which had something to do 
with the nice house we were presently in, | am sure. | 
didn't really ask why the nice digs; Pablo was always 
"housesitting” for someone or other, usually an artistic 
patron sort with a crush on a beautiful boy in Pablo's 
orbit. The living arrangement typically ended when they 
ran up against the ferocity Pablo displayed in protection 
of his artists. 


While we waited, it so happened that Defensor was 
playing Rentistas that afternoon, so we donned our 
purple kit and watched the game on a color television 
almost as big as some of the monitors at Site-87. The 
erstwhile residents of this house had excellent taste in 
mate, and Pablo brewed some during the commercial 
breaks. Between the excitement of the match and the 
buzzing in my head from what had to have been seven 
or eight cups of mate, | grew impatient to know why we 
were surrounded by eight blank canvases. Pablo 
explained the project to me. 


"| have commissioned a series of self-portraits in an 
attempt to understand myself more," he said. "| am 
consumed lately by visions of myself in vast fields of 
wheat, chilled to my core by prairie winds. An alien 
landscape, certainly. But not an entirely unpleasant one! 
| feel a sort of connection to this place in my mind, and | 
must know more." 


| knew why this was. Of course | knew why this was, but 
| could not tell him. It may amaze the researchers 


reading these dispatches, but | have not had need to be 
duplicitous with Pablo in the many years | have been his 
keeper. | dreaded him asking me for my insight, when all 
| could offer was lies. Quickly, to change the subject. 
Why self-portraits? 


"There exists, Roberto, a dynamic relationship between 
the artist and his impetus. The artist depicts the concept, 
and in his depiction he changes the concept. You know, 
Heisenberg shit," waving his arms to demonstrate the 
scale of his thinking. "It is in the interplay of this 
relationship that we learn just what something is, and so 
| have called eight able artists to paint my portrait. Why 
am | seized with this vision of a place | have never been, 
so late in my years? | hope that this helps me to 
understand." 


| couldn't help but blanch at this. To hold back from 
Pablo something of great importance to him. He must 
have seen my expression, and | hope to God he misread 
it. He leaned in, a whisper from a conspirator to his 
nervous partner in crime. "And you know, all of this 
would be terribly self-important and vain, of course, if the 
portraits were hanging in my own house!" He laughed at 
his joke, as was his prerogative, and then cheered wildly 
as Manteca buried an equalizer, and | don't know that 
I've ever enjoyed a Defensor goal as much as that one. 


The artists arrived in the course of time, and got to work 
immediately, solemnly setting themselves to a task given 
to them by the great Joaquin Pablo Izquierdo de San 
Felipe as the man himself distributed beer from the 
house's fridge. Each artist feverishly labored to get their 
vision of Pablo up on canvas, as though the greatest 
honor would go to he who finished first. | have never 
seen, before or since, a concerted act of respect greater 
than that paid to Pablo by these eight young painters. 


The first painter to finish, a young woman, rushed to 
show Pablo her handiwork. "Not yet!" he cried, averting 
his gaze, "it must all happen at once, a grand unveiling of 


a collected truth!" he pronounced to the room, laughing 
at the grandiose statement, but | could tell also deadly 
serious. He tossed the brash young painter a beer, and 
she reclined on the couch with us as we waited for the 
others. 


One after another, the painters finished their work, and 
began their own personal assault on the contents of the 
house's kitchen and refrigerator. This arrangement was 
not unusual, as food and drink were an established part 
of the artistic currency in the neighborhoods of 
Montevideo. As the last painter finished and disappeared 
into the kitchen, Pablo sprang up from the couch, 
assumed a position in the center of the room, and closed 
his eyes. "Roberto, if you will do the honors of turning the 
portraits to face me!" he said with a flourish of his hand. 


| went to the first portrait, the one painted by our speedy 
Young Turk, and snuck a peek before | turned it to face 
Pablo. What | saw was a perfect representation of 
Reverend Francis Abernathy, leader of the First 
Methodist Church in Dotson, Nebraska. His face was 
clear as day to me, as though | had the SCP-2188 file 
open in front of my eyes. My shock lasted for three 
seconds, as the various consequences and implications 
sped through my mind. He could not know, | reasoned. 
None of them could possibly know. But how? Another 
two seconds. How was unimportant right now. | turned 
the first portrait around. Each successive picture was 
another significant person in the town of Dotson. What 
kind of painters were these, anyhow? They looked 
nothing like Pablo. | faced all of the portraits, and told 
Pablo to open his eyes. 


He slowly complied, peeking coyly at first, then slowly 
turning, examining the portraits surrounding him. He was 
confused at first, but a smile played slowly across his 
face, and as he kept looking, he laughed, as though he 
was beginning to just now get the punchline of a joke told 
two weeks ago, marveling at his own slow realization. 


"These people, they look as though they should live in 
this place that has taken such hold of my mind!" he said, 
the astonishment continuing to grow in his voice. "It's 
absolutely brilliant! They are the logical outgrowth of this 
place, brought here in the most irrational way possible! 
What a wonderful collection of portraits, well done my 
friends!" 


| told him | didn't follow one bit, continuing with my habit 
of telling the truth to Pablo whenever possible. "Don't you 
see," he said to me, "they have always been here, in the 
realm of the unexpressed idea, waiting for their 
opportunity. And they got tired of waiting! So here they 
are, coming to us of their own accord, being themselves 
and being me at the same time! | am, we are, all of us 
are of this realm. The natural flow of something, I'm not 
sure what, it's returning somehow. Do you understand 
what | mean?" 


| took a few moments to turn his words over in my mind. 
The professional filter told me that this was of concern, 
but a containment breach? So much of this anomaly was 
the exchange of ideas, happening in the open but 
impenetrable to all but we few, happening upon it by 
accident. No. A sublime moment, its participants content 
to let it be as it is. 


"| understand completely," | told him. 


S-TARC Listing 


of Related 
Artworks - 

Titie Artists Medium Description 
After all is said) Molly H.R. Experimental A loosely 
and done alli | Yerevan prose structured 
have is you and narrative 
myself and you consisting of 


first-person 
recounting of the 
narrator's 


The Brothers 
Mann 


George Hillsong Video 
presentation 


experiences with 
a close 
companion, 
followed by a 
series of free- 
verse poems 
from what 
appear to 
different points 
of view ona 
single, unclear 
event affecting 
the lives of the 
narrator and 
their companion. 
The narrative is 
interspersed with 
several songs. 
Read at the Arts 
and Crafts 
portion of the 
Dotson Harvest 
Conclave by Ms. 
Yerevan. 

A pre-recorded 
monologue 
delivered by Mr. 
Hillsong via 
three television 
monitors. Mr. 
Hillsong, through 
the use of 
makeup and 
prosthetics, 
appears 
significantly 
different on each 
monitor. The 
monologue 
consists of a 


| Have Eight 
Faces 


The Fading Sky Rock album 


meditation on 
the nature of 
identity, 
interspersed 
seemingly at 
random with 
footage of a 
football match 
between 
Uruguayan clubs 
Defensor and 
Rentistas. 
Presented at the 
Dotson Union 
High School 
Monthly Art 
Festival. 
Minor-label 
release from 
Dotson-based 
rock and roll 
band The Fading 
Sky. Continues 
the band's 
development of 
what will come 
to be known as 
its trademark 
post-New Wave, 
slow tempo 
synthesizer- 
heavy sound. 
Consists of eight 
tracks, most of 
which feature 
subtle punk rock 
influences. 
Eighth track 
contains an 
additional song 


commencing 3 
minutes and 30 
seconds after 
the end of 
"Firelight", listed 
on the rare 
Japanese 
release of the 
album as a ninth 
song entitled 
"Pablo 
Surrounds 
Himself". 


Field Report 2188.48 - Farewells 
Date: 29 July 1998 


Summary: Agent Esquivel comes to the Hospital de Clinicas in the 
barrio of Parque Batlle in Montevideo at the request of Mr. Izquierdo, 
admitted to the hospital a month prior with an advanced case of 
pancreatic cancer. Agent Esquivel arrives at 0315 hours local time. 


Result: Cessation of SCP-2188. 
+ Access Additional Documentation 


Agent Comments: From the street, the hospital always 
looked to me to have its arms outstretched, long robes 
hanging down from its skeletal arms, in an embrace 
none are large enough to escape. In the empty space of 
its heart was Pablo, and every time | miraculously left 
this place alive, | never understood how | could leave 
him within its grasp. 


| had brought him some charcoal pencils and a pad of 
paper the last time | was there. He did not ask for 
anything when he called me in the night and asked me to 
come. 


In the heart of this obscene monument, by the gray light 


of an institutional table lamp | had my last conversation 
with Pablo. He had something to show me, he said on 
the phone. As | arrived, he pulled out his pad of paper. "| 
think | know who you are, Roberto, what you are," he 
wheezed as he struggled to hand over the pad to me. | 
had always wondered just how much Pablo knew. 


| looked at the pad as he summoned the rest of his 
words. He had drawn my portrait, apparently using our 
prior meeting as the basis of his sketch. Pablo had 
always been one to draw the art out of the people around 
him, but very few times had | seen him create something 
himself. | looked at the picture, of myself but not myself 
really, viewed through the eyes of someone else. More 
than the features of my face, what | recognized was my 
own despair. | viewed this desolation as though it 
belonged to someone apart from me, someone else, and 
this was a goddamn dagger through my heart. Pablo 
now had the energy to finish his sentence. 


"What you are, Roberto, is my friend. I'm glad you are 
here." 


Out in the open, there it was. In the empty heart of the 
city's watchful death goddess, decades of the lives of two 
men, laid out in a dingy room surrounded by the early 
morning. 


| can't write any more on this. 


S-TARC Listing 


of Related 
Artworks - 

Titie Artists Medium Description 
The Residents of Multimedia An event taking 
Remembrance, Dotson place over 


March 


several days in 
early August, 
1998. At the 
suggestion of 


Roland Nygaard, 
scoutmaster of 
Dotson's local 
Boy Scout troop, 
residents are 
spontaneously 
asked by 
members of the 
troop to 
commemorate 
those they have 
lost over the 
prior year. 
Thousands of 
people respond 
with innumerable 
songs, paintings, 
stories, 
sculptures, and 
other artworks. 
At a town hall 
meeting, 
residents decide 
to deposit the 
collected artwork 
at an under- 
utilized 
columbarium in 
the nearby Misty 
Veil Cemetery. 
Led by an ad 
hoc marching 
band made up of 
eighteen town 
residents calling 
themselves the 
"Town Limits 
Honor Guard,” 
the entire 
population of 


Dotson forms a 
parade, starting 
downtown and 
concluding at 
Misty Veil 
Cemetery, 
carrying the 
assorted 
artworks. The 
works are placed 
in the 
columbarium, 
and the 
cemetery is host 
to an impromptu 
gathering 
featuring music, 
contests of 
artistic skill, and 
at least 148 
documented 
eulogies for 
deceased family 
members and 
friends. 


Addendum 2188.2 - Future Containment Directives 
DIRECTIVE 2188-03.17 
13 OCTOBER 1998 


To minimize the likelihood of resumption of a known 
anomalous phenomenon, this office accepts the 
recommendation of Field Agent Roberto Esquivel to inter 
the remains of Pol 2188-A (Joaquin Pablo Izquierdo de 
San Felipe) clandestinely at the site of previous 
manifestations of the anomaly in the United States as a 
risk reduction measure. 


Furthermore, Agent Esquivel is hereby transferred from 


well within theoretical norms for an allosaurus. 


SCP-250 emulates what are presumed to have been the standard 
daily activities of a living allosaurus: it wanders its enclosure by day, 
enters a state of dormancy by night, and will attempt to kill and 
devour anything which it perceives as suitable prey, including 
humans. Its lack of organs does not seem to affect its behavior in 
any way, except in that the remains of any prey it consumes will 
inevitably fall out of the gaps in its skull, neck, and ribcage, at which 
point it ignores them. 


SCP-250 was first excavated as an 80%-complete skeleton in 
[REDACTED], 19 ; records from the excavation do not include any 
report of anomalies. In 19, it was transferred to the Museum 
of in [REDACTED], where it was assembled, mounted, and 
put on display. 


On the night of / /20 , SCP-250 seized and killed an intruder to the 
museum. Although damage to the intruder's remains was so 
extensive as to render forensic identification impractical, they were 
conclusively shown to not be those of paleontologist Dr ; 
whose office in the museum was extensively vandalized that night 
and who has not been seen since. Foundation personnel embedded 
within museum staff reported the incident, and SCP-250 was taken 
into custody. 


« SCP-249 | SCP-250 | SCP-251 » 


the Montevideo field office (Site-87) to the base of 
operations established by S-TARC in the vicinity of 
Dotson (Site-41). Agent Esquivel is to begin a new 
assignment assisting S-TARC in documenting and 
analyzing the continuing development of the art 
subculture of Dotson. 


Finally, | personally commend Agent Esquivel for his 
thirty-one years of service in successfully containing 
SCP-2188, and for his continuing commitment to the 
protection of human civilization, in Dotson and 
elsewhere. May his forthcoming research on the legacy 
of Pol 2188-A continue to benefit mankind.