rating: 0+x

Item #: SCP-4932

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4932 is kept within a standard safe-class locker at site-53. Use of SCP-4932 outside of approved testing is strictly forbidden.

Description: SCP-4932 is a 1969 three-day ticket to the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. Initial testing revealed no anomalous qualities. As SCP-4932 was recovered from a Marshall, Carter, and Dark holdings vault, it was believed the object had been kept only for it's moderate collectors value.

In 2005, some 17 years after it's recovery, Junior Researcher Seyyal Bishara unknowingly activated SCP-4932 while organizing the site-53 GOI acquisitions storage. These effects are not yet fully understood, but several conditions must be met before SCP-4932's anomalous effects can come into effect.

1. An individual must directly handle SCP-4932.
2. Within the next 72 hours, this individual must attend an event that requires a ticket for entry.
3. The individual must become unintentionally lost on their way to this event.

If all three steps are completed, this individual will gradually transition into an alt-dimensional space loosely correlated with their original destination. These environments are often described as surreal, but fully comprehensible. See 4932-IC below for more details.



04/09/2005 - Initial Contact Document - SCP-4932

Subject: Junior Researcher Seyyal Bishara


Interviewer: Dr. Michael Alby

Interviewed: Junior Researcher Seyyal Bishara

Forward: Researcher Bishara did not report for duty on 04/07/2005. Director Marlowe, her supervisor and friend, traveled to Ms. Bishara's residence following multiple missed calls. Upon arriving, Marlowe found Ms. Bishara's front door unlocked, and partially open. After reporting her situation with command, Marlowe entered the 1 bedroom flat to discover Ms. Bishara passed out on her couch. Reportedly, Ms. Bishara's hair and clothes were in disarray, and her body was covered in glowing, neon-hued liquids and powders. Marlowe called for a containment team after spotting a tattoo that had not been there two days prior. The tattoo, an ursine creature of some sort, was sleeping in the exact position Ms. Bishara was currently in, and when roused, breathed and moved it's limbs in time with Ms. Bishara.


Alby: Good morning, Seyyal. Sorry to get you up on a Saturday. How are you feeling?

Bishara: Better, sir. Groggy, but ready to report.

Alby: Please, Seyyal, no need for the straight-back treatment. Call me Mike. From what I gather, you had a very long, and interesting night, so let's just chat, shall we?

Bishara: Oh. In that case, I could really, really use some more coffee… and you can call me Sey.

Alby: Of course. Douglas, could you- Yes, thanks. One for me too. Now, Sey, can you take me through what happened?

Bishara: It started Saturday- no, wait, sorry. It actually started last Friday afternoon. I was sorting through the acquisitions storage, tagging stuff while it was placed in those new plexi-boxes we've got? There was this ticket-

Alby: Did you do anything usual with it? Touch it in some way, say something when you held it?

Bishara: What? No. Why would I do that?

Alby: Just checking.

Bishara: Right. Well, no, I just put the ticket in it's case, slapped a label on it, and moved on to the next thing… a cast-iron urn, I think. It was heavy. Director Marlowe let us start the weekend early, so a few of us went out for drinks, and talked about our plans for Live 8.

Alby: That's where you were meaning to go on Saturday, correct?

Bishara: Bingo. The problem was, Saturday morning my mother called me. My brother Riyad… well, it's not important. I'll just say he got in trouble again, and I had to help sort it out. I didn't end up getting to the concert until nearly 8:00pm. I was pissed off. I missed Elton, and the Scissor Sisters. I wasn't thinking straight, so I took a few wrong trains getting to the concert.

Alby: When did you start noticing things were strange?

Bishara: Not until I actually got to Hyde Park, actually. I mean, what should have been Hyde Park. I was really distracted at the time. Looking back, some of the people on the train did seem… off. They sat too still, or spoke in languages I didn't understand. I didn't notice it then, but I don't think those were languages we speak on Earth.

The gate to the park was bigger than I remembered. Big, ornate wooden planks with bright metal braces. It was like a giant barn door. The man taking tickets was massive, too. I could barely see his face under this big tangle hair. My father has a beard down to his chest, and I tell you, this man's beard was twice as thick. I remember thinking something was odd, but there was a line of people behind me, and everything just sort of moved in a daze… you know that feeling? When you're at a big event on your own, and you sort of just.. go with the flow?

Alby: I haven't been to many concerts, I'm afraid.

Bishara: Well, it was like that. I got out my ticket to give it to him, and that's when I really snapped out of it. The ticket in my purse… it wasn't mine. It was the ticket I'd logged that afternoon. The woodstock ticket. I just held it out dumbly, staring at it for a second before the gate-man took it from me, stamped my hand with… something, and ushered me in.

It was… it was another world, Mike. It might have been a park, but it certainly wasn't Hyde Park. The trees were three stories tall, with branches that curved up to the sky like hooks. They didn't have any leaves, just thick clusters of dark baubles, like big black raspberry bunches. They reflected the light like disco balls. The path beneath me was smooth and clear. When I looked down, I could see crowds of people walking upside down on the underside, clear as day. A little girl looked back at me- back up at me, I suppose. She had perfectly round eyes, and they were filled with diamonds.

I was pushed along by a crowd of… people? Yes… they were people, but not the kind I've ever seen. Many were nearly 8 feet tall, and their arms hung down nearly to their feet. Others were so fat they didn't walk as much as roll! Then there we're men and women, moving in huddled groups, wearing skin-tight blue fabric from head toe, only every looking and speaking to each-other as they shuffled forward.

I don't know if I can describe the feeling… it was like the first concert I'd ever been to, when I was a child. Everything was just so strange and new… but everyone around you seems so happy and relaxed that you can't really be scared. Perhaps it's a social response, something inherently human in our rituals. Either way, I just… walked on. I headed towards the stage.

The crowd was massive. Not merely in numbers, but in sheer mass. I didn't realize until I looked twice more, but a nearby set of hills was actually a group of colossal, dome-shaped creatures. They were like legless, faceless woolly mamoths. Just a greenish, hairy body, and two big round dark eyes. There were groups of people- people like me, I guess, sitting on their backs and making hammocks in strands of their fur, so again, I wasn't frightened.

A thin man, with almond eyes and legs like garden-spades stopped in front of me. He was cradling a hundred tiny marbles in his arms, each of them glowing a warm yellow light. He carefully handed me one, smiled, and kissed my cheek. None of it felt unusual to me. I heard a group of people nearby speaking English, so I went to them. I had to step over a patch of mushrooms to do so, and as I did, the mushrooms turned up at me and waved with tiny flags.

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