Prologue
Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. Editing out mistakes of entire story on 1/25/16.
The Mystery Shack was eerily silent.
Mabel hated it. She loved when the sun shone pleasantly through the windows, revealing the dancing particles of dust in the air. She loved the ignorant tourist's constant chatter, as they listened to the weaved tales concocted by "Mr. Mystery" and bought the tawdry gift shop products. She loved the conversations made with her devoted family and friends. Mabel passionately hated this side of the Shack though. It was pitch dark. Deathly silent. She obviously knew the layout of the building, but none the less the dark Shack produced a perturbed feeling, that progressively welled up in her heart. Usually it wasn't quite that bad. She didn't wake often in the dead of the night and if she did, she was too sluggish to properly feel perturbed about a thing. But, this was one of those eerie nights that gave her those feelings. She simply wished to return to her nice, comfy room, reassured by the light breathing from her twin brother. Mabel was a preteen on a mission though; She needed water.
She softly creaked open the oak door of their bedroom, stepping out onto the the room where the stairs where located. Mabel slowly slunk down them, flinching at bit at the first creak produced by the floorboards beneath her fuzzy slippers. She would simply go to the kitchen, get a glass of water, and return to bed. No big deal. Not a thing to worry about. Mabel glided confidently down the hallway, feeling stupid about worrying in the first place. The brunette was able to successfully get her water, using the sink to fill her glass jar up. She took a sip, eyes adjusting to the dark. The outlines of the house were coming to her vision. Everything was fine. She had no idea why she worried. There wasn't any need to. Sure, there were dangerous things out in the forest, but the Shack was completely and totally safe from that danger. Mabel smirked to herself. No monsters out there could get her! And, there was nothing in the house that coul-
Except for that shadow.
By the luminance of the moon outside, she saw the barest outline of someone by the back door. Her cup froze in place, barely kissing her lips. After a moment, she screeched in fear and dropped her half full jar. Glass exploded everywhere, water gushing smoothly across the tile floor. Mabel stumbled back, as the shadow began to advance towards her. Oh, god, she was going to be killed by some robber or murderer. She was about to screech again, for help this time, but the light in the kitchen suddenly flickered on. Her eyes adjusted to the lighting, seeing a few dark spots in her vision. It was only her Grunkle Stan who was standing by the back door, hand on the switch next to it.
"Jesus, Mabel! What the heck are ya doing?" Stan exclaimed as he saw what had broken.
"Grunkle Stan!" She placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. "Uh, what are you doing?"
He narrowed his eyes, as she avoided the question. "I ain't stupid, kiddo. I invented the 'answer-a-question-with-a-question' trick. Used to use it all the time as a kid. And if you really wanna know what I was up to, I was just chasing off those darn raccoons. They were freakin' digging through the trash, again..." Stan trailed off, mumbling about what gruesome things he would do the next time the raccoons returned. Mabel, still trying to calm her heart, decided not the comment this time on his cruel torture towards animals.
"Oh...I was just getting s-some water."
"Well, I can see that. You broke the glass and spilled it everywhere!"
Mabel cringed at this. "Sorry Grunkle Stan...you just...s-surprised me...I'll clean it up."
Stan released a sigh when he noticed how, uncharacteristically, fretful she was. "Never mind that, I'll clean it up myself. Now, get to bed."
Mabel nodded as her great-uncle reached into the kitchen pantry for a broom. She shuffled around the remains of the glass jar, intending to head to the darkened hall. She simply desired to go back to her bed, cuddling up against Waddles, until she drifted off to a peaceful slumber. She just wanted to forget that her imagination had decided to run wild and make her believe Stan was some random stranger that broke into the Shack. Mabel didn't even want to think about what would happen if that truly did happen. She was nearly to the hall, when Stan gently called her back over. She halted her walking and turned back around, standing in the entryway. He appeared to be somewhat concerned, eyebrows furrowed together. Why was that? "You ok, kiddo?"
Mabel jerkily nodded. There was no point in telling her great-uncle what she had foolishly seen, as that would only cause him to believe she was crazy. Stan wouldn't believe her anyway; she was never serious, about anything. No one ever did believe her. Stan went back to sweeping up the shambled mess on the tile. The preteen gulped as she studied the glass. The shattered remains glistened menacingly, clinking when Stan swept at them. She knew what she hated more than a dark Shack. Mabel hated the fragmented leftovers of glass. Glass was fragile and fragile things broke. Broken things reminded her of other things she didn't wish to think on. Things connected to that night. That night. The night she witnessed the near de- She abruptly halted that thought, forcefully looking away from the mess, swallowing down her nausea. Mabel slipped herself out into the darkness of the hall. For whatever reason though, she glanced over her shoulder, ceasing movement as she did so. The darkness, and glass, and that night were immediately forgotten. From the eerie glow of the dimmed kitchen light, an unknown shadow loomed over her great-uncle's.
~!14-9-14-5-20-5-5-14/19-5-22-5-14-20-25-6-9-22-5!~
The Mystery Shack was eerily silent.
Dipper hated it. Last night, Mabel had gone to have one of her rambunctious sleepovers at Candy's house, along with her other friend, Grenda. No Waddles either. Mabel decided to introduce him to Candy's cat, Yaong. He felt bad for Mr. and Mrs. Chiu, knowing they were in for one crazy night. Here though, that usually (and thankfully) meant a whole lot less noise, as his twin sister was the boisterous one of the family. Dipper and Stan were appreciative that they could finally get a break from her and her noise. To be honest, the quiet tended to make him nervous, but usually the noise of his Grunkle Stan scamming the rowdy and ignorant tourists, Soos doing Grunkle Stan's slave work, or Wendy making causal conversation with the customers was enough to simply make the worry melt away. There was none of that this morning though. No Grunkle Stan scamming, no Soos doing slave work, and no Wendy making causal conversation. He had woken to silence.
Dipper stood, in a daze, in the brightly lit hall. The outside sun dazzlingly beated onto his, already warm, skin. He had been observing the dust particles dance and swirl before his vision. Dipper snapped out of his mindless gaping and looked out the window. The vast, never ending, forest of Gravity Falls was illuminated by the rising sun. Shadows stretched out across the lawn and into the hall. He took in the beauty of the wild Oregon landscape. It was truly a breathtaking sight, and he wished, for not the first time, that he could live here, instead of near the Pacific ocean. Mabel claimed she believed California was the most beautiful place on the planet (though Dipper wasn't sure how she could claim such a thing, when the only other place the two had been was D.C. when their mother had gone for a business trip). Dipper though, thought this was the most beautiful place he had traveled to. If only it wasn't so quiet.
"Hello? Mabel? Grunkle Stan?" He voiced into the kitchen, as he entered. He received the sound of silence as his answer. Dipper frowned. The brunet was never here alone and it was unusual for it to be so. This provoked his heart to flutter with nerves. Dipper continued on to the living room, pushing down the panic welling in his heart. No one there either. His hands began to get clammy and trembly. He finally decided to make his way to the store, praying that everyone was already there. That was empty of people as well though. And it was a Saturday. Those were the usually some of the busiest days of the week and not a soul was to be seen. Dipper gulped, feeling full-on anxious now. He made his way back to the living area on shaky legs, wondering what could be going on and why no one was around the Shack. Dipper was struck with the need to get to safety. He stepped into the hall, intending to head back to the safety of his room. The house still had that sort of silence that happened before dawn. When there wasn't any sound he would just abou-
Except there was an uncanny murmur behind him.
Dipper whirled around in the hall he now stood in, fear flaring. He calmed when he realized he was completely alone. He released a breath in relief and wiped at his sweaty forehead. Dipper frowned, as he realized it was chilly, not hot in anyway. It was the middle of the summer. Why did he feel like this? Strangely breaking out into a cold sweat was not a good sign. His breathing sped up. His thoughts became apprehensive as he realized something was about to occur. What? How did he know something was about to occur? The brunet slowly turned around, staring at the far away staircase. Dipper needed to return to his room immediately. How did he know though? His thoughts were all jumbled and tangled right now. A phrase was beginning to infinitely repeat itself. What did that mean? What did that mean? What did that mean? WHAT DID THAT MEAN? WHAT-
A word was murmured by his ear. "...sick..."
Dipper fearfully stumbled back from where he stood, chocolate eyes blown wide with horror and distress. Panic, that hadn't grasped him quite this strongly in awhile, seized him with its vicious claws. He needed to release. Release its claws? Release his panic? Release what? He couldn't even think! Both. He needed to do both. Dipper's lips moved, scream beginning to form, before it could release though, he tripped over his own two-feet. The back of his head painfully smacked into Stan's door. When he steadied himself, Dipper groaned aloud and rubbed the damaged area. The panic had been ebbed away, and the need to release a scream had vanished. His body was a separate story though. Suddenly, the door behind him swung open, causing him to startle.
A somewhat swaying Stan stood in the doorway. Dipper's hands dropped from his bruised head. His erratic breathing was audible as he toke in the maroon sleeping robe, watering eyes, and apparent flush on his great-uncle's face. Stan wiped at his nose with a bundled up tissue in his hand and sniffled loudly. He then produced the best glare that he seemed to be capable of at the moment, before speaking in a nasally tone. "What the heck are you doing, kid?"
"Uhhh...I was just...looking for s-something...um, are you ok?"
Stan scowled at the preteen. "Do I look ok to you, kid?"
"Right, sorry," Dipper was embarrassed at the obvious answer. "You're sick."
"No, really?" He sniffled, again, as he sarcastically replied. Stan then took in his great-nephew's appearance, noting the inconsistent breathing and tense appearance. "...You ok?"
Dipper hastily bobbed his head up and down. Satisfied, Stan moved on."Well, I'm gonna go back to bed. And you're gonna stop running into things and making all that darn ruckus this early in the morning!"
Stan slammed the door, with an grumpier look than usual on his face, right as Dipper opened his mouth to reply. He rolled his eyes at his great-uncle's typical behavior. Even when he was sick, he was still the same irritable old man. Waking him up wasn't even Dipper's fault. It was tha-The brunet cautiously observed his surroundings, searching for what could of made that ominous mutter. There was nothing though. What? His blank stare returned, set on the door of Stan's room, wondering what had even happened just a mere minute ago. Was there even a sound? Was he just imagining things? He would of easily been able to pass it off as his imagination, if it wasn't for one factor; This wasn't the first time. After what seemed to be years, Dipper decided to retreat to the attic. Just go to bed, all alone, and pretend this morning had not occurred. Dipper thought it sounded like a decent plan. As he was climbing the stairs though, he ignored the whisper he heard say his great-uncle's name.
End Prologue
EDIT: For any new readers of this story, Grunkle Stan is Stanford and Grunkle Ford is Stanley. At the time this was created, the theory that Stanley Pines was the author's name was what everyone thought to be true. I decided to keep this the same, as a reminder of what could of been. Grunkle Stan is their great-uncle and Stanley is their grandfather, since Shermy Pines doesn't exist in this. The Mystery Trio was considered the real deal, though it may not be canon any longer. The Mystery Trio is canon in this fic though, so there are discussions of them in later chapters.