SCP-776 was discovered in 19 after an individual named 

who had stumbled upon the town in 19 revisited it 12 years later 
after remembering the hospitality of its citizens. Upon entering the 
town, noticed that the town was filled with young adults instead 
of the families he had encountered during his first visit. reported 
that when he questioned a citizen about this, the citizen immediately 
turned hostile and attempted to murder him. successfully 
escaped the town and reported it to nearby authorities. The 
Foundation soon took notice and took over investigation and 
administered Class A amnestics to Mr. . After a heated debate, 
the members of SCP-776-A agreed to allow the Foundation to 
isolate and study them. 


SCP-776-A claim their town's name to be . Another town with 
this name was abandoned in 19 ; however, the town populated by 


small matter, nothing more. 
Bright: Small? 


Gears: Why? You think it not? Director Rights spent but 
pocket change on this party. Fifteen, twenty dollars? Is such a 
small sacrifice deserving of this much praise? 


GEARS claps and the ACTORS finish the song. 
ALL: 


TROLL THE ANCIENT YULETIDE CAROL 
FALALALALALA LA! 


The ACTORS divide into couples and rush off in all directions 
into the darkness. 


Bright: Gears! She had the power to make us happy or 
unhappy, to make our work light or burdensome, a pleasure 
or punishment. With how happy she made us, she may as 
well have spent a fortune. 


Narrator 1: Bright paused, as if in thought. 
Gears: What is it? 


Bright: |... | would like to say something to my assistant just 
now. That's all. 


GEARS smiles again. 

Gears: Come, Jack. My time grows short. See here. 

They mount the DEADLY MOOSE again, this time gliding 
down in a snowy courtyard. A light shines down on YOUNG 
BRIGHT talking to his fiance, ROSE LABELLE. 


Young Bright: Come now, Rose. Don't be ridiculous. 


Labelle: Jack, I'm not being ridiculous! And even if | were, 
isn't it natural to be ridiculous when you're in love? 


Young Bright: | don't have time to be ridiculous, Rose. I'm 
the director now, | have a career to think about! 


Labelle: Do you have time to be in love? 
Young Bright: Love? Love... is for fools. 


Labelle: Then | am a fool, Jack. A fool for loving a man who 
does not love me. | matter very little to you, don't |? Another 
has replaced me in your heart... if it can make you happy and 
comfort you, as | would have tried to do, | have no cause to 
grieve. 


Young Bright: Replaced you? What has replaced you? 
Labelle: Your work. 


Young Bright: Well that's just the way it fucking is, Rose! 
There is nothing, nothing more important than the cause... 


Bright scrambles over to them, desperately trying to stop the 
young shadow of himself from speaking. 


Bright: No, no, you idiot, please. Don't go on... 


Young Bright: ...and those who stand in opposition to the 
cause are just as foolish and dangerous as those we seek to 
contain! 


Labelle: You fear the world too much, Jack. All your hopes 
have merged into the hope of being beyond the reach of the 
inevitable, even after everything you have experienced. 


Young Bright: | am not changed towards you. 


Labelle: You have changed. When you made your promise to 
me, you were another man. Before you wore that goddamned 
amulet, you were different. 


Young Bright: | was a boy! | knew nothing. This amulet 
saved me, pulled me out of the darkness and has given me 
perspective, Rose. If | do nothing to stop the calamity that 


may befall us, then everything we have experienced will be 
without worth. | do everything | do for us, for you. 


Bright: No, no no no, please— 
Labelle: For me? 
Young Bright: Safety is the key to all things. 


Labelle: No, Jack. Love is the key. Companionship, 
togetherness. How have you lost this? 


Young Bright: Rose, | do love you. But | cannot afford to live 
ignorantly of what | Know | must do. It is not fair to you or 
myself. 


Labelle: Our contract is an old one. When we made it, we 
were both poor and ignorant and happy, and content to be so. 


Bright: No more, please... please, no... 


Labelle: You know in your heart, whatever of it remains, that 
you are not who you were. You say you love me, but your 
obsession with your work supersedes me. 


Young Bright: Rose, do we really need to do this? 
Labelle: We were one heart once, you and I. But no longer. 
Bright: No, Rose, we are still one, we could be... 


Labelle: | release you from any promises you made to me, 
Jack Bright. 


Young Bright: | am not asking for any releases. 
Labelle: In words, no. 
Young Bright: Then in what? 


Labelle: Tell me, Jack, would you try to win me over again 
now, knowing what you know? 


Young Bright: | must think of my work, of my— 
Labelle: Would you seek me out now? 
YOUNG BRIGHT does not answer. 


Bright: Answer her, you idiot! You goddamned fool, say 
something! 


Silence. 


Labelle: | thought not. | do hope you find happiness on the 
path you have chosen, Jack. 


She disappears into the darkness. YOUNG BRIGHT lingers 
for a moment more, and he too disappears. 


Bright: Spirit! Gears, whoever you are, please. Take me 
away from this. Show me nothing else. 


Gears: | told you that these were the shadows of the past, 
Jack. They are what they are, | am not to blame. 


Bright: Why do you haunt me? What have | done? 

Gears: There is one more you must see. 

Bright: Is this fun for you? Torturing me? 

Gears: Follow, Jack. 

They walk a short ways. In the distance there are lights. As 
they approach them, they see the window of another 
dormitory, at another site. 

Narrator 5: Before them was another place— 

Narrator 3: A room, not very large— 

Narrator 2: But full of comfort! 


LABELLE, now older, sits across the room with her daughter. 


Narrator 1: Across the room sat the woman he had once 
loved. 


Narrator 5: The same woman he had let go so many years 
before. 


Bright: Gears? Is that... it's Rose! But how can that be? She 
looks older, more mature... 


Labelle: Another Christmas Eve. 

Daughter: And what a beautiful night it is! 

Labelle: All Christmas Eve's have beauty in their own way. 
Daughter: Do you think mama will be home soon? 


Labelle: If she doesn't wander off looking for some beautiful 
gift for her beautiful daughter. 


Daughter: Oh mama! Why won't you tell me what she's 
gotten me? 


Labelle: (Laughs.) You'll just have to wait and see, won't 
you? 


Bright: She looks... beautiful. Look at her eyes, her hair, her 
lips... | would like dearly to— 


ROSE'S WIFE enters. ROSE rushes to help her with a load of 
packages while their DAUGHTER squeals in delight. 


Wife: Rose! God, | have missed you. 
Labelle: And | you. 
They kiss. 


Narrator 3: Seated comfortable by the fire, the wife turned to 
Rose and said with a smile, 


Wife: Rose, you won't believe it. | saw an old friend of yours 
while | was on assignment this weekend. 


Labelle: Who was it? 
Wife: Take a guess. 


Labelle: Pah! | don't know. How could |? (She pauses, 
considering, and then says like a joke,) Jack Bright. 


Wife: The same. 
Labelle: Aha! How did you happen upon him? 


Wife: | was delivering a shipment of artifacts to Site-19 and 
happened to pass by his office. Seeing as he hadn't closed up 
and there was a light on inside, | couldn't help but notice. 
They say his partner is on the verge of death, but there he sat 
alone. Quite alone in the world, it seems. 


Bright: Spirit, please... remove me from this place. 


Gears: | told you, Jack. These are only the shadows of things 
that have been. | cannot change them, any more than | could 
have cast them. 


Narrator 1: Bright turned to speak, but instead of the face of 
an old friend, he saw many shattered fragments of all of the 
faces of everyone that the Spirit had shown him. The face 
was a somber one, a silent one. 


Bright: Take me back, Gears. Haunt me no longer. 


Narrator 2: With a solemn nod, the world around Jack began 
to collapse, the walls caving in upon themselves and the 
ground beneath them coming undone. The lights began to 
flicker and go out until all that remained was a single glowing 
fireplace. In his last moments of consciousness, Jack reached 
out as if to signal towards Rose, but a howling wind overtook 
them and the light was extinguished. 


Narrator 1: Jack sat up quickly, immediately conscious of 
being both in his own bedroom, and of being exhausted. He 
was suddenly overcome with a terrible drowsiness, and soon 
collapsed back into a deep and heavy sleep. 


Act Ill 


The Second of Three Spectres 


Narrator 4: Bright awoke in the middle of a particularly 
voluminous and tough snore and, sitting up in his bed to get 
his thoughts together, did not think to look at the numbers on 
the clock to his right, which had just turned to 1AM. He did, 
however, think to look at the bright light shining from beneath 
his bedroom door and, donning a pair of slippers, he crept 
over and opened it. 


Narrator 5: Beyond it was his own living quarters, no doubt, 
but they had undergone a surprising transformation. Gone 
was the dark and cold he had grown so accustomed to, and in 
its place were walls and a ceiling hung with evergreen. From 
every corner hung holly, mistletoe and ivy, all glistening in the 
light like a million tiny mirrors. Beyond was a roaring fire in his 
fireplace, and beyond that was a throne of the most succulent 
and delicious foodstuffs he had ever laid eyes on. 


Narrator 2: Turkeys, geese, poultry, hams, kebabs, sausages 
and links of all variety, apple pie, pumpkin pie, cherry pie, pot 
pie, oysters, clams, lobster, shrimp, literally an entire buffalo, 
fruit of all kinds, stacks of produce, all assembled in the finest 
seat a man could dare to sit upon. Around the chair lay an 
even greater treasure; rum, gin, vodka, bourbon, whiskey, and 
liquors of all kinds, and a great many more kegs of beer 
flowing freely like a cascading waterfall. On top of all of it was 
TROY LAMENT, a man tall and lean, with a thick red cloak 
held with a golden brooch, holding a flaming torch on a long 
staff and wearing a festive winter hat. His voice boomed when 
he spoke and to Bright, it was a familiar tone. 


Lament: Bright! You old cocksucker, get in here! Com— 
*hiccup* -come on, you son of a bitch, | ain't got all night. 


Bright: Troy? Troy Lament? What are you supposed to be? 


Lament: Me? Oh, right, the food. | am, (C/ears throat.) the 
Ghost of Christmas Present. This present, as it were. Look 
upon me and despair, Jack Bright. 


BRIGHT hesitates. LAMENT stares at him for a moment 
before breaking out into laughter. 


Lament: Almost had you there, didn't |? 
Bright: Troy, what is all of this about? | don't understand, I— 


Lament: Bet you've never seen anything like me before, have 
you? 


Bright: No, | haven't. (Pauses.) Are you here to...? 


Narrator 2: The Spirit of Troy Lament became suddenly still, 
though the smile did not leave his face. 


Lament: | am, Jack Bright. (Steps down off of food-throne, 
stumbles slightly.) There is so much for us to see. 


Bright: Then take me where you will. | went forth last night 
only after being compelled, but | see now the wisdom in the 
Spirit's words. If you would teach me, please, let me profit by 
it. 


Lament: (Reaches out.) Take my hand. 
He does. 


Narrator 3: With but the slightest wisp of smoke and a mild 
burning sensation, the two of them were suddenly whisked 
away. When they reestablished themselves, they stood 
outside a row of short houses on Christmas morning. Bright 
recognized it as being one of several small towns near 
Site-19, where the lower paid staff might go to find housing, or 
to keep their families. This one was no different than the rest; 
small, compact and bustling, but tidy despite itself. The air 
was full of smoke from chimneys and the sounds of people 
bustling, and in spite of the grey of the morning sky, there was 
an air of cheerfulness around them. 


Narrator 4: Around them were researchers and agents, 
custodians and engineers, and unknowing townsfolk, all going 
about their morning duties. From time to time one could hear 
a "Merry Christmas!" to which all would respond in kind. 


Narrator 5: They passed by a place that Jack had never 
seen, and only ever heard described. It was little more than a 
hole in the wall, shoved between other small, dingy 
apartments like itself. But it was clean, and the windows were 
full of light. A sign on the door read "Mr. Bridge and Mrs. 
Moose", and Bright realized he was standing outside of the 
home of his own assistant. 


Lament: Aha! This is it. See, Bright? | always know where the 
party is. Don't you doubt *hiccup* me. 


Narrator 1: They passed through the wall and beheld the 
scene within. Hustling and bustling through the chores of a 
Christmas morning breakfast were none other than Django's 
wife, Tilda Moose, their eldest son Fritz, and two small 
children, boy and girl, tearing around the house after each 
other screaming about who would have the first slice of 
breakfast casserole. Lament laughed joyfully at the scene. 


Lament: Ah, man. This is fuckin' great. The whole *hic* family 
here, together, having a good fuckin’ time, man. (He stumbles 
slightly.) Can't ask for *hic* more, yaknow? 


Moose: Fritz! Come here, child. Wherever has your father 
gone? And your young sister, Tiny Zyn, for that matter. 


Narrator 2: She had no more said the words when in burst 
Django, in his threadbare winter finest, with their daughter 

Tiny Zyn seated upon his shoulder. Alas for poor Zyn, she 

bore a little crutch, and had her limbs supported by an iron 
frame. As for what calamity, anomalous or otherwise, had 

befallen her, we cannot say. 


Bridge: Hullo, wife! | have returned! Go now, kids. Take Zyn 
off to the play room, it'll be time for breakfast soon. Come on 
now, get out of here. 


The CHILDREN scamper off. 
Moose: And how did little Zyn behave? 


Bridge: As good as gold, Tilly, and better. She gets so 
thoughtful sometimes, you know? We went by the infirmary 
this morning to deliver those letters to Dr. Cimmerian, and the 
whole time she stood as straight as she could and delivered 
words of good cheer to those in the waiting room. Not a single 
crack in her armor, I'll tell you. 


BRIDGE sniffles, his voice tremulous. 


Moose: Come now, Django. Let's get this breakfast finished. 
I'm sure the children are starving. 


Narrator 5: With haste, the parents finished preparing the 
meal. It was not much; a casserole, toast, eggs, a bit of 
cheese and juice. But it was what they had, and for them, it 
was enough. They gathered around and, under the watchful 
eye of Troy and Bright, they gleefully indulged themselves in 
their meager breakfast until the plates were licked clean. As 
they finished, their mother brought out drinks to finish the 
meal; brandy for the parents... 


Narrator 2: ...no doubt long since stocked away for such an 
occasion... 


Narrator 3: ...and chocolate milk for the children. As they all 
took their drinks, Django stood to make a toast. 


Bridge: A Merry Christmas to us all, my dear, sweet family. 
May the following year be as blessed as the last. God bless 
us. 


Narrator 4: And they all echoed in response, with Tiny Zyn 
squeaking out last of all; 


Tiny Zyn: God bless us, every marp. 


Narrator 1: As they gathered to have their toast, Tiny Zyn 
went to sit with her father. They sat together for a moment, 


SCP-776-A was discovered in 19 , years before the abandonment 
of the aforementioned town. Russian government officials claim to 
not have been aware of SCP-776-A's existence nor the town they 
inhabit, stating never to have plans to build another . SCP-776- 
A members claim to have no knowledge of when or why " "was 
founded, saying that none of their elders ever discussed the topic. 


Incident 776-3: On 03/ /20 at hours, approximately