The nightmare vanished like smoke on the wind as Dipper's eyes bolted open. Already adjusted to the twilight, he peered around his room, searching for the source of the overwhelming dread he'd felt – someone in the room someone right beside me – but in a mere instant that too was gone, and he was left only with the silence of the house in the darkness, and the sense that something was wrong. His heartbeat, having been an intense staccato, began to wind down to a normal rate.
He looked over at Mabel in the other bed. Somehow she'd managed to fall asleep on her stomach, the right side of her face resting on the pages of some magazine. Her eyes were still closed, and her mouth was slightly open. Glancing at the floor, he saw Waddles nestled in some old shirts near the foot of Mabel's bed. Everything else was at it should be; all seemed right with the world.
As the first rays of the morning sun started to creep in through the picture window, Dipper suddenly became very aware of his pulse, of a slight twitch in his neck. He breathed deeply and tried to focus on the intake and exhalation of air. The sense that something was wrong wouldn't leave.
That morning continued remarkably like the one before it. The twins' great-uncle Stan knocked on their door shortly after dawn to tell them breakfast was nearly ready, and Mabel had gotten up and staggered to the bathroom to shower in a fog. Dipper hadn't been able to return to sleep for the past hour, and took the time that Mabel was out of the room to do a more thorough inspection of it, to see if there was anything physically wrong that might account for his unease. The search was futile. The room was in about the same state of disarray that it usually was. Waddles peered at him as he checked under the bed and inside the closet, tensing up every time he turned his head. Eventually he realized that there was nothing he could see that he shouldn't be seeing. Mabel returned from the bathroom and mumbled something that was probably a "good morning."
Mabel had been sleeping poorly for the past week or so. A few times she'd gotten up just to fall back asleep again the moment she put her head down. "Hey, you feeling okay?" he asked.
Mabel nodded and yawned in response. "Yeah, yeah, 'm fine. Just need some juice or something..." she started to drift towards her bed again, so Dipper got in between the two.
"Uh huh, and juice is that way, downstairs, remember? Along with pancakes?"
For a second, Dipper forgot his nerves as his twin's face lit up. "Pancakes?! Alright, Calorie City, here we come!" He smiled as Mabel grabbed Waddles and flung him over her shoulder before rushing out the door. Waddles, for his part, seemed content with being a shoulder-mounted anti-aircraft pig.
Alone in the room, Dipper grabbed his clothes for the day and made his way to the shower.
"Alright, kids, listen, uh, I've got an important meeting with the town council today. Something about 'safety standards.'" Stan Pines made no effort to hide his disdain for anything the local government had to say, although he did appear to have shaved more evenly than usual that morning. "So I'm leaving you two in charge of the shop til I get back. It'll probably be pretty slow, so just don't break anything and don't let Wendy or Soos slack off, got it?"
"Got it Gruncle Stan," said Dipper as he took Stan's plate and utensils from Mabel and lowered them into the warm, soapy water in the sink.
"You don't have to worry about a thing!" said Mabel, grinning, "We've got everything totes under control!" She grabbed her own plate, but stifled a yawn with her forearm before grabbing her other dishes.
Stan raised an eyebrow at her. "You sure you're good, kiddo? You been acting a little under the weather lately." Mabel swallowed another yawn and waved him off as she shook her head. "Well, alright, but try to take it easy today. Last thing I need is you kids working yourselves into the same early grave as me. Anyway, I'll be back, eh, eventually." With that, he grabbed his coat from a nearby stand and left the room.
Mabel resumed gathering the dirty ceramic dishes. "Psh, it's not like I'm that tired. Us teenagers don't need as much sleep as old guys like him, right bro-bro?"
Dipper turned to face her. "Actually, Mabel, Gruncle Stan has a point. You don't have your normal Mabel-esque energy. Maybe you're coming down with something?"
As he asked this, Mabel handed him an armful of dishes. He took the weight into his hands, it wasn't that much, when he felt a strange, quick tug at his right arm. All at once, his hand jerked open, and the plates began to fall as he tried frantically to get a grip on them again. He managed to snatch one of them, but the second dropped to the floor edge-first, shattering on impact.
Bits of off-white ceramic flew around the floor, skittering under chairs and the fridge. Dipper groaned in dismay as he set the unbroken plate in the sink and knelt down to try and grab the larger pieces of the plate off the ground. He grimaced at the shards, cursing his clumsiness. "You okay?" he asked, not looking at Mabel, asking almost out of reflex.
There was a brief pause, which was all Dipper needed to ascertain that Mabel was likely not okay. To further confirm, he heard Mabel utter "Damn." He turned to see that Mabel was feeling her face with the back of her hand, wiping away fresh blood. A small cut had been opened on her cheek, and even though she was bleeding, she looked more stunned than hurt.
"Damn," he echoed, and stood up, ignoring the remains of the plate. "Mabel, I'm so sorry! I didn't-"
"No, no," she said, "I shouldn't have given you all of it at once." She grabbed a napkin off the table and held it against her face, where it quickly turned a vivid scarlet. "I guess I'm not as awake as I thought."
"No, it was my fault," he insisted, "I, like, twitched or something, and dropped it. C'mon, let's go get the first-aid stuff. We can ask Soos to pick up the broken bits when he gets here."
"Yeah," she said distractedly. They walked back upstairs to the bathroom, neither noticing that blood from Mabel's cut dripped occasionally to the floor, making small but noticeable stains on the carpeting.
About ten minutes later, Mabel was back in bed, persuaded to take the day off. Dipper was in the storefront, behind the counter and waiting for Wendy to arrive. He'd had a crush on Wendy from the day they'd met, and although he knew that as a high-schooler she most likely had no particular desire to date someone three years younger, a guy could always dream. Of course, he hadn't worked up the nerve to really ask her about herself. She probably already had a boyfriend, being so cool and beautiful. It just wasn't fair.
As his thoughts started to turn sour, Dipper felt another tug at his right arm. This time the sensation became a little clearer. It was like someone was pulling at his arm up and towards his body, not away from it like someone pulling at his sleeve. It lasted for maybe a tenth of a second. He jerked his sleeve up to inspect his arm.
It looked very much the same as he expected it to. A bit pale, despite his exposure to the summer sun. He could see the pale blue of veins near the crook of his elbow. He wondered, briefly, about the dark red color of unoxygenated blood and wondered if it was much like Gruncle Stan's good red pen. A noise from the front of the store drew his attention, and he realized he'd been staring intently at his upraised arm. He quickly put it at his side.
The door hadn't opened yet, but someone was definitely on the other side. From the sound of jingling metal, Dipper guessed they were looking for a key. He opened his mouth to say the door was open, but before he could get the words out, the door opened. There was Wendy, stuffing her keys back into her pocket and shutting the door behind her. She stared at the floor until the door had clicked behind her.
"Morning," said Dipper, trying to meet her eyes. Fortunately, she looked up at him, and smiled. It was such a pretty smile that he almost believed it. "You don't have to worry, Gruncle Stan's not around."
She laughed, and he forgot what had been troubling him that morning so far. "That's the best news I've heard for a couple days now, Dipper! Shove over, I think I can handle the mob scene in here."
He cheerfully left the high seat and gestured to it theatrically. "It shouldn't be too busy today. Mabel's not feeling well, she's resting upstairs."
Wendy's face fell as she took her usual seat. "Aww, poor Mabel! What's wrong?"
Dipper looked away sheepishly. "Well, she's been tired lately. And earlier I, ah, I dropped a plate, and it kinda broke, and a piece of it gave Mabel a cut on her cheek..."
Now Wendy looked terrified. "Oh man, that's messed up!"
"D-don't worry! It's only a little one, she said it didn't even hurt that much!"
"Dude, you don't understand: as cool as scars are, a girl can't have one on her face! It just doesn't work!"
He walked towards the front door, keeping his gaze away from Wendy. "I guess I hadn't thought about that. But it really wasn't that bad," he said as opened the door and took in the warm summer breeze. "We put a little band-aid on it and went to bed. It was a pig band-aid."
Wendy sighed and looked sadly up at the ceiling to where she assumed the twins' room was. "Poor Mabel," she repeated. As her face was turned upward, Dipper looked at her face and saw for the first time dark lines under Wendy's eyes. She lowered her gaze to meet his. "Uh, dude, listen, I know this isn't a great time, but I might have to bail early today. I was going to tell Mr. Pines, but-"
Dipper frowned. Stan probably wouldn't have let Wendy out of work early, but he wasn't too concerned about that. "I mean, I guess it should be okay, but I don't know if Soos and me can hold down the whole shop on our own..."
Wendy put her hands up in innocence. "Oh, hey, I know this is bad timing, but, it's a family thing, y'know? I mean, it might not come up at all."
"Is everything okay?"
Wendy's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, yeah, totally, it's just my youngest brother's been having these nauseous fits the past few days, puking all over everything. My dad's got to work, and I might need to run to the store and pick up some medicine. Like, it wouldn't take more than a half hour tops! If I had to go." Dipper was still on the fence, when Wendy put her hands together and implored him with the most pathetic look he'd ever seen on her. "Please?"
"I mean," he started, knowing he'd lost, "I guess if you have to, you have to. A-and it shouldn't be busy anyway..."
She beamed at him. "Thanks, Dipper! You're the best!" She leaned back in her chair, balancing it precariously on its back legs. "Man, I hope I- we don't wind up getting sick too. Better make sure to wash our hands!"
They laughed, and Dipper started blocking the merchandise on the shelves. "So, how was that concert last night?" Wendy had told him of her excitement to see her favorite punk rock band, Asherah, two days ago, and had called in sick yesterday to go to Medford for the show. During the day his phone had been blown up with pictures of Wendy and her friends loading up a cooler with sodas, Lee and Nate drawing on Thompson with Tambry's lipstick, everybody drinking from suspicious styrofoam cups with disgusted expressions, Robbie hunched over looking ill, it looked like everyone was having a great time. The pictures stopped coming when around dusk, when the show started.
So Dipper was surprised when Wendy simply replied, "Oh, it was cool," and buried her head in a magazine.
Quiet.
"Was Asherah as great live?"
"Way better."
"Cool."
Quiet.
A noise outside. Both turned their heads to the door to see Soos strolling into the Shack, a big smile on his face. "Morning, dudes!"
After Soos had gone into the kitchen to clean up the plate fragments on the floor, Wendy and Dipper had started talking about old monster movies they'd both seen, and for a little while things were calm between them. The day's unlucky events had started to fade from Dipper's memory, and he was enjoying just hearing Wendy's voice. After an hour or so, they heard another person coming up the front walk.
"Hey, Tambry!" Wendy called out to her friend, who looked up from her phone and smiled back.
"Hey yourself," she said as she stepped inside. She waved perfunctorily to Dipper and crossed the room to Wendy's counter. "You got a minute?" she asked quietly as she tucked her phone into her pocket.
Wendy glanced past her at Dipper. "Hey, Dipper, would you mind giving us a second? Girl talk, you know?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," he said, grabbing a broom from a corner and taking it outside. "Gotta sweep the porch anyway."
"Thanks, dude!" she called after him just before he shut the front door. "So," she said, leaning on the counter, trying to seem unconcerned, "what's up?"
Tambry raised an eyebrow at her. "Wendy, look, none of the others are around. You don't have to pretend around me. How are you doing?" She put a hand on Wendy's own, and to Wendy's surprise, she didn't feel like pushing it away.
"I mean, I feel kinda weird. But I don't really know why." She looked into Tambry's eyes sadly. "Is that normal?"
Tambry shrugged. "Probably?"
"I just worry that...that people are going to treat me differently, y'know?"
"Hey, it's not like it was on the news, we're the only ones that know," Tambry said, forcing a smile. Wendy frowned, and she realized her mistake. "Well, the only ones around here, I mean, everything...nothing went wrong, right?"
Wendy shook her head. "No, thank god."
"Well, then, it's not the end of the world. Hell, it's not even that bad. Or bad at all, depending on how you look at it. It's not like you've lost friends or anything. I'm always here for you, and that kid out there still worships the ground you walk on."
"Would he if-"
"But he doesn't. But I bet he would. Why do-" she lightly punched Wendy in the arm. "Ooh, I think I get it now!"
"Tambers!" Wendy chided, but laughed and punched her back. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, smiling softly. "Thanks, Tambry. It means a lot to me to know you've got my back."
"Always, Wendy."
Dipper resisted the urge to eavesdrop on the girls' conversation, trying to focus on sweeping the dirt and leaves off the slatted wooden porch. He looked out at the treeline and couldn't help but grin. Gravity Falls was an unbelievably beautiful place when one really looked at it.
The mid-morning sunlight lit up the grounds of the Mystery Shack giving everything a golden hue. The grass, the dirt, everything seemed to shimmer in the
twitch
his grip on the broom loosened and it clattered to the floor, falling off the porch entirely. He groaned, momentarily too annoyed to be concerned about how his body was behaving today. He got down on the ground and picked up the broom. As he straightened up, he saw another flash of gold in the woods, sprinting straight for him.
She came out of the woods, panting heavily. Her hair had come undone from the style it had been in, and her shoes and pants were flecked with dirt. She had bent over to catch her breath, but Dipper could recognize Pacifica Northwest anywhere.
"Can I help you with something?" he said.
She had been standing about twenty feet away, but as soon as he had spoken, she ran until she was standing right next to him. She spun around wildly, her eyes scanning the area. Dipper found himself looking around with her. "Is there something you need?"
"I-" she started, before she doubled over panting again. "I – need – ugh – water!"
About a week ago, he might have relished the chance to see the rich girl out of breath and practically on the ground with exhaustion. But since showing her an old and very unflattering news article about her family, his desire for revenge had been sated somewhat. "Okay, okay, you can have some water." Suddenly, he heard the voice of his Gruncle Stan in his head, pressuring him to take whatever sale he could get. "Bottles are a dollar inside."
She glared at him. "S-seriously?!" she finally straightened up, and now that he saw her up close, her clothes looked terrible, like she'd run through a briar patch.
"Are you okay?" he finally asked, almost hating that he had to say it.
Pacifica turned all around, checking out her surroundings again. He waited patiently while she ascertained whatever it was she wanted to know and then brushed herself off. "Look, you're a nerd..."
"Oh, did you really run all the way here just to insult me?!"
"No!" she said, putting up her hands in a placating gesture. "I-I'm sorry, that just...look. Pines," She stood close to him, staring deeply into his eyes. Two things struck him about her. The first was that she was really very pretty when you looked past how bourgeois she was. The second was that she looked absolutely terrified. "Do you know anything about..." she glanced around one last time, and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "...witches?"
To stymie predictable questions, yes, you're right, not a lot happened. I like my horror like I like my gin: slow. Updates may not be terribly frequent, what with exam season upcoming and all. There are three films that served as the inspiration for this story, which will become more apparent as it continues. You might already be able to guess one of them. Rating may increase.