Disclaimer: This story was adopted from StorySmall, a great writer on this site, who didn't want to continue this, so they let me adopt it. The idea is not mine, nor is Gravity Falls.

Rain, mud, and lightning

Gravestones pale and old

Hear the shovel scraping

Through the decay and mold

A voice carried through the foggy cemetery, echoing off the gnarled trees that guarded the perimeter. Rows after rows of miscellaneous tombstones were strewn over the soggy ground. Some were placed straight and carefully, while others were bending to the ground, with chips and nicks at the corners. It had to have been nearly midnight as the blackness of night spread far over and beyond the town like the eerie fog that came along with it. The moon was blotted out by the heavy clouds which sent the rain down swiftly, but not hard onto the loose soil of the graveyard.

The warm orange glow of a small lantern shone through the fog. There was a softclink-clink of the rain against the metal parts, along with a rhythmic and unstopping scrape of a shovel. A figure was visible in the light of the lantern: small, like a child who had yet to reach their teens, and scrawny, with arms like noodles and deep brown hair plastered against his forehead and neck, the figure shoved his shovel into the ground and tossed a load of dripping mud into an ever-growing pile beside his progress. And he sang, the boy, his voice low like a man's, but it still had a childish ring to it as he continued in his ominous rhyme.

Scrape, scrape, digging deeper

Shovel, shovel, away the dirt

Toss aside the mud to find

Your sister…something, something…irt.

The singing broke off, and the figure straightened up, wiping the rain away from his eyes, and smeared mud across his forehead in the process. He stood inside an almost perfectly rectangular hole, except for the mud that slid down the sides and gathered in the corners as the rain loosed it up. Despite the inflow, the boy was still standing in a hole that reached down so far, he could have sat inside it and become invisible to a bystander.

Dirt

Spurt

Flirt

Yogurt

The figure looked out at the carefully carved tombstone before his deep pit. It was truly a beautiful piece of art, carved in a bright gray stone was a large cross with a vine twisted around it, and one large flower blooming open at the top. Etched in the stone was a name and date, but the boy's eyes quickly skipped past them as he sighed and resumed his dig.

Shirt

Curt

Shmirt

Dang, why'd they bury you so deep?

The figure carried on in silence. He moved like a robot, lifting and tossing the shovelfuls of mud away without even a moment's hesitation.

Lift

Toss

Lift

Toss

Lift

Toss

Thunk!

The shovel struck something hard.

"Finally," the boy muttered, tossing the shovel aside. He took the lantern and brought it down with him into the hole. Carefully, he bent down and scraped the mud away to reveal solid wood beneath him. A smile crept across his face and he set down the lantern and proceeded to scrape off all the mud to reveal a simple wooden coffin. The boy took a deep breath, then dug his fingers under the sides of the coffin. With a strong pull, the lid to the coffin tore off, nails and all.

Resting peacefully inside the box was a young girl, about the boy's age, with the same chocolate curls and small nose. She rested in a red velvet bed and was clad in a simple, yet elegant white dress. A bouquet of withering daffodils was clasped over her chest by her cold hands. The rain fell in little on her pale face and gathered in small beads. She looked so sweet and peaceful, like a fairytale princess trapped in a deep sleep, just waiting to be awoken.

"Hey, wake up," the boy whispered, giving her a little shake.

The girl groaned and turned her head away, causing some of the brunette strands to fall over her face.

"Hey, I just spent all night digging you up, get outta there," the boy said, crossing his arms, as if this was a completely normal occurrence.

The girl yawned and blinked her eyes open, "Geez, Dipper, what took you so long? I feel asleep." She blinked a few times as the falling raindrops got in her eyes. "Oh what, and it's raining!"

"I couldn't get everyone to leave until it was dark out," Dipper explained, lifting the dying flowers from her hands and setting them aside.

The girl stretched and held out her hands for Dipper to help her up. Dipper took her hands and pulled her into a standing position.

"Besides," he went on, "I had to wait and see how everyone talked about you at the funeral."

"Oh yeah, what'd they say?"

Dipper shrugged, "Oh, the typical stuff: she died too young, she was such a sweet spirit. I almost threw up."

"What, didn't you miss me?" the girl asked playfully.

"C'mon, Mabel, I had to sit through another funeral for my sister, watch her get buriedagain, and see everyone crying." Dipper let out a laugh, "Sorry I laughed, but you should have seen Pacifica, she was bawling her eyes out!"

"I can't believe she can cry over anything but herself," Mabel joked.

"Apparently she can," Dipper replied. Mabel laughed a bit, then looked down, obviously sad that they'd have to move again.

Dipper hoisted himself out of the dug-up grave and helped his sister climb out, taking the lantern with her.

"Here, help me move this mud back," he said, picking up the shovel.

"I'm gonna miss this place," Mabel said thoughtfully as she shoved a pile of sod into the gaping hole. "Everyone was so nice…Grunkle Stan, Wendy, Soos. I think this is my favorite place so far."

"I think you're right," Dipper agreed, tossing a shovelful of dirt into the grave. "Half the people here weren't so bad. In fact…I almost felt bad about tricking them into thinking we were related to Stan."

"Did he cry at the funeral?" Mabel asked, stopping what she was doing to look Dipper in the eye.

"Yeah…he cried," Dipper said slowly, still moving the earth into the grave, "He felt really bad and was all worried about what he'd tell our parents. I'm almost glad we don't have any…so that he wouldn't feel so bad about it."

"Well, he doesn't know that," Mabel pointed out, "He thinks we have real actual parents that care for us and would pretty much die of sadness knowing we're gone."

Dipper didn't say anything

"Did you cry at the funeral?" Mabel asked, looking at her muddy feet.

"I pretended to, yes."

"No, like really cry. Like, are you going to miss everyone here?"

Dipper paused and thought for a moment. "Yeah…I guess so.," he admitted softly.

There was a moment of silence between them as they continued to fill the grave.

"You really liked Wendy, didn't you?" Mabel asked.

Dipper bit his lip. "Yeah, she…she was pretty great."

"What made her different from all the other girls you've met over the years?"

Dipper stopped moving the mud and leaned thoughtfully on his shovel.

"I dunno, I guess…I guess that of all the times we've pretended to be growing up around other people, they still treated us as just kids, not matter how smart or mature we acted, but Wendy…she sort of treated us as equals, you know? She didn't respect us like you'd respect an adult, but she didn't put down anything we said just because we were kids."

Mabel shrugged, "I thought Soos was pretty great too."

Dipper nodded and began shoveling the mud again.

There was a moment of silence between them, with only the sound of rain and the scraping of the shovel. Mabel looked down at her dress, wishing they'd buried her in one of her sweaters.

"Maybe we could go back…Maybe Soos would believe us," Mabel said at last, twirling her dripping hair in her fingers.

"Mabel, you know we can't do that. We're dead. Remember when we tried telling someone the truth? That we're ghosts?"

"Yeah, they went all wacko and tried to 'kill us' kill us," Mabel muttered, "But that was years ago, and the people who lived in Scrap Rusts were jerks anyway!"

Dipper sighed sadly. "Mabel, think of it this way, if we go back, and if Soos and Stan and Wendy all believe us and accept us for who we are, do you really think anyone else is going to be okay with that? Seriously, Mabes, you just died."

Mabel stubbornly tossed a handful of mud at her gravestone.

"Wendy's already seen ghosts…and Soos would believe us…can't we just be with them and not tell anyone else?" she asked.

Dipper looked sadly off into the fog. "I don't want to risk that. I don't want to risk having the people we love so much turn on us, and even if they did accept us, we can't just hide in someone's closet forever. Someone, maybe even someone who can't stand us, would find out. I don't think we should take that chance."

"Well I do!" Mabel cried, standing up. "Dipper, this is the best chance we've ever had! We've 'died' a total of sixty times, and I'm through moving from place to place every time! I wanna stay here!"

For a moment, there was no noise but that of the rain steadily beating against the ground. Mabel sat stubbornly at the edge of her grave and let her feet dangle off the edge with her arms crossed.. Dipper came and sat next to her, gazing absentmindedly out into the rain.

"Please," Mabel whispered.

Dipper looked carefully at his twin sister. Her hair had gone straight from the rain and mud was splattered all over her white dress. He looked into her pleading brown eyes. Rain streaked down her face like tears. Dipper blew out a breath, "Okay, here's an idea. We drop a hint…a hint that we're, you know, inhuman, and if anyone catches on and accepts that, we can stay."

Mabel couldn't help but squeal. She squeezed Dipper tightly. "It's gonna work! It's gotta work!" she sang happily.

"Don't get your hopes up," Dipper said softly.

"I am getting my hopes up," Mabel said, hugging him tighter, "Because I know that it's gonna work! Someone will accept us!"

Dipper looked out through the fog in the direction of the little town of Gravity Falls and prayed that somehow, Mabel was right.