The Woman with the Cipher Tattoo

CHAPTER 4: What Grunkle Ford Said

From the Journals of Dipper Pines:

Wednesday, June 19: It's pretty late at night, and I'm continuing to write this as I sit up in bed with a flashlight focused on the page. Mabel is asleep and snoring on the other side of the curtain, though she swears she never snores, and since the noise alone would keep me from sleeping, I might as well finish the entry for today.

I'd never heard of anything called the Gack of Doom, or Creepy Hollow for that matter. Shmebulock clammed up when Mabel and I asked questions, and Jeff refused to answer, claiming that we'd had our dozen pies worth already. Once we got back to the Shack I dived into the Journals but found no references to either of the two terms.

Meanwhile this afternoon, Grunkle Stan came over to visit for an hour or so, and right away Mabel hit him up for some money, then after Stan had left, Mabel called Greasy's Diner and ordered the pies from Lazy Susan, who was thrilled with the order. She does make good pies, but I think SHE thought they were for Grunkle Stan, whom she still sort of wants to marry. After she hung up, Mabel said Susan had told her the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, although Mabel added, "I'd think it would be right through the sternum. 'Course, you'd need an axe." Anyhow, once the call was made, Mabel got out her yarn and needles and started knitting a sweater. I knew that would keep her busy for the rest of the day.

So at about four I borrowed Wendy's old bicycle, which she keeps here at the Shack, and rode over to the McGucket mansion. I found Grunkles Stan and Ford out back, both of them wearing Hawaiian shirts and lounging beside the pool, arguing about something or other. I used to worry about all the quarreling they do until I realized that's just their way of kidding. It's what they do instead of awkward sibling hugs. Fiddleford was nowhere to be seen. Grunkle Stan said he mostly stays in his lab these days.

For a while I just sat between my Grunkles, staring into the rippling blue water, smelling its chlorine aroma, and thinking. Finally, Grunkle Stan got up, stretched, and said it was too hot and he was going inside for a nap. That gave me a chance to talk to Ford about what we'd learned without Stan getting all protective.

"Grunkle Ford," I started, "what do you know about Creepy Hollow?"

He shrugged. "Just the name, really. That's one of the places I always meant to investigate, but somehow I never quite got around to it. It's a small bowl-shaped valley, and it runs from Breaker's Ridge right up to the base of the bluffs west of town. That is unfortunately just about all I know for sure. The townspeople shun it because they have a silly superstition that visiting it brings bad luck. I gather there's some supernatural activity of a low order that's common in the Hollow."

"Low order? What's that?"

He shifted his weight in the sun chair. "Well, merely illusions and the like, nothing as real and solid as a gremlobin or a unicorn. You know what a Will o' the Wisp is?"

"Kind of a light phenomenon, isn't it? Like, in the Middle Ages in Europe, travelers at night would see dim lights and think they were lanterns held by other people, but when they tried to approach the lights, the glows would flitter off farther and farther until the travelers got completely lost?"

"Something like that, yes," Grunkle Ford said. "Mischievous, you see, but not actually dangerous. Well, in Creepy Hollow people say you see shapes around you—nothing with a definite physical body, just vague shapes, shadowy and strange. But you can only glimpse them in your peripheral vision. When you look directly at them, they're just not there. And these visions are supposed to make those who see them jumpy and prone to bad decisions. However, as I told you, I've never witnessed any of that myself. What with our discovery of the crashed and buried alien ship and our work on the Portal, Fiddleford and I never found time to look into the Creepy Hollow phenomena. Why? Are you thinking of exploring?"

"Well, yeah, sort of," I confessed.

"Hmm. I'd say you'd be safe enough if you went during daylight and got out of there before sunset. You'd have to remember to pay no attention to anything you might think you see or hear in there. Illusions can't really harm you, but they might cause you to bring harm on yourself by, oh, accidentally walking off a cliff while being distracted, for instance."

"Would you want to go with me?"

He chuckled. "If I were twenty years younger, I'd jump at the chance, Dipper. However, I've come to dislike strenuous long hikes with no definite goal in mind. And at the moment, I'm very busy writing up an account of our voyage in the Stan O' War and my analysis of the Pacific Anomalies we discovered. I'm afraid I'll have to take a pass this time. Hey, look at that! You know, you see those only in Gravity Falls?"

I looked where he was pointing. One of the orange butterflies was surfing the breezes a few feet overhead, bobbing along as it rose and fell. "There's a lot of them around this year. We saw some in the Gnome Grove," I told him.

"Yes, they're fond of wooded areas. They're not Monarchs, you know," Ford said, "though they superficially resemble them. That's a kind of butterfly called a—"

"A fritillary," I said, watching the butterfly swoop away over the privacy fence and out of sight.

Ford chuckled. "You're quite a reader! It always surprises me that you know so much about so many things! You remind me of me when I was your age. Dipper, anytime you want to reconsider being my apprentice, let me know. I may have slowed down, but I have no plans to retire."

"Thanks," I said.

After a moment, he murmured, "Creepy Hollow. Funny. It's been over thirty years since I've even thought about the name. How did you even hear about that place, anyway?"

I told him that Mabel and I had talked to the Gnomes.

He threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Yes, I investigated the Gnomes and got to know several of them pretty well. Dipper, a word of advice: Gnomes really aren't too bright. They have a sort of hive mind, if you know what that is. Like bees. Most of them have to be told what to do and when to do it. The few brighter ones control all the others, and like bees they have a central ruler who keeps them all focused. Any individual Gnome will invariably mislead you, not by intentionally lying exactly, but by telling you things that he or she mistakenly believes to be true."

"I sort of know that. Anyway, if Mabel and I want to explore Creepy Hollow, that would be all right?"

Grunkle Ford thought for a few minutes. "I believe so. But please don't tell Stanley. You know how he frets about these things. Of course, he'd blame me if he knew you were going—as if I could stop you if you're really determined. So just be careful. And remember what I said: If you go at all, get there in the morning after the sun is well up, and make sure you return at least an hour before it sets. Illusionary phenomena always seem stronger and realer at night."

I promised that I would follow his advice, and that if Mabel and I went exploring, I'd report back to him. Before I left, Grunkle Ford thanked me for giving him copies of his three Journals. "Now that Bill Cipher's gone for good, I don't really need them," he told me, "but it's good to have them again. When you told me Bill had incinerated the originals, I thought they were gone forever. One day you and Mabel are going to have to sit down and tell me the whole story of how this Blendin Blandin character and the Time Baby were able to rescue them from the past."

I told him I would and then got up to leave. So I rode back to the Shack with a lot to think about. I suppose Grunkle Ford's right. Whatever it is that scares a Gnome shouldn't bother a normal human at all.

But when I think about "normal human," I also have to think, "and then there's Mabel."