What is this? I'm supposed to be working on my Nano project but this would not leave my head. Take it. It's unedited.
In the small town of Night Vale it is very hard to keep track of facts. Reality had a startling tendency to change at the flip of switch, almost literally, and what was true one day might not be true the next. City laws and the laws of physics tended to change so rapidly that it was quite difficult for even the most clever minds to keep up. So, Dipper liked to just keep a few facts as undeniably true in his head.
He, Dipper Pines, was not a native Night Valean. He couldn't really be sure where he came from originally as his brain usually answered that question with a few different locations, but he was not born and raised in Night Vale. Like so many others, the town had drawn him there from his very normal life to fulfill some purpose that was beyond his understanding. Or possibly because it needed to boost its population numbers what with the frequent and gruesome deaths that occurred in the city. Either way, his life was now in Night Vale.
Dipper Pines was a nickname; he was as sure of that as he was that he had a twin. No matter the horrors or pleasantries that he faced in this town, Night Vale could not take his twin from him (and he was half certain it had tried). In his old life he might not have been aware of it, but there was a bond that existed between them that could not be broken without serious consequences- he had researched it thoroughly on a whim that had felt like a burning compulsion. He would have died for Mabel, and he might have already done so. That might be how Night Vale originally sank its claws into him, but the details are rather blurry.
At this point he would welcome death (possibly, maybe) but he could not die for the same reason he could not leave Night Vale; he had not fulfilled his purpose for being there yet. It itched at him at the back of his mind, tasting of something that burned at his tongue, and colored his dreams with shrieking moans. He invested in one of those soothing rainforest cds to fall asleep to.
He probably could escape the town if he actually took the time to seek out this purpose given to him, but there were so many dangers in being curious in Night Vale. Being observant and aware was just as bad- the event with Sherrif's Secret Police that he did not recall had been a rather terrifying event where they had tried to figure out if he had been some kind of spy, or possibly recruit him… he's not sure because he did not take time to think about it.
So, if the town or whatever else entities wanted him to do something they would have to learn to be more direct with their demands. He wanted to remain as unmutilated as he possibly could be, thank you very much.
Adjusting to Night Vale had been difficult. Mostly because it had been fascinating and there were quite a few things that enjoyed using fascination to lure the unsuspecting to them. Dipper had learned to not listen to voices asking him to bring lobster bisque to certain sections of the city rather quickly.
(A part of Dipper whispered about how scared it was that he didn't know how he escaped so many things; the memories blurred and distorted from more than the SSP's reeducation attempts. Something had a vested interest in Dipper and that was somehow more frightening than anything else in Night Vale because it had proven stronger than anything else that had attempted to claim him.)
His neighbor had been very kind in teaching him how things worked in Night Vale after Dipper had stopped shrieking and sobbing for the hour after he had seen the woman's burned out eyes. She was very kind even after he had been so rude; twice a month she baked him sugar cookies and left them outside his door for him. He did his best to ignore that they were on a ceremonial offering a plate and how she shrieked and moaned prayers outside his door for twenty minutes when she did. (Something about the woman's eyes made him feel like she was staring directly at his soul and that these offerings had something to do with what she saw).
He had managed a good run of keeping his mind vacant and keeping his head down until one morning he woke up strapped to an altar, stripped naked and someone or something's blood painted on his skin. Hooded figures huddled and wailed around the altar, luckily not being the same hooded figures that haunted the Dog Park but still being a clear and present danger. Dipper rattled his chains to find they were of good quality, possibly new, and were not likely to break.
It took Dipper a few minutes before he realized that the hooded figures were chanting something backwards, increasing in speed and pitch until it was a sharp, continuous noise- a rising Shepard's tone. The mental shield he had raised, the vacancy of his mind, disappeared in an instant and fear flooded him in a massive, black wave.
He screamed and screamed because he should never have stopped, not from the first moment he ended up in this town until this very second. The chains pinched at his arms as he thrashed and struggled, but it was futile and a waste of energy.
The cultists began to topple over- fainted or possibly dead, Dipper couldn't tell- but still the Shepard's tone continued to pierce his ears. Then everything came to a stop, sound ceasing with a pop of his ears that left them aching, and it appeared hovering above him. The thing that had called him- that had laid its claim across his soul so vividly that everyone in this town could see- had returned to this world, using Dipper as a vessel to call him across dimensions.
"You sure are stubborn, Pine Tree," the thing- demon, cooed, hovering as a golden triangle above Dipper's prone body. It's single eye gleamed with sadistic delight. "That's just what makes you so cute."
The human trembled in his chains, tears spilling from his eyes as frightening certainty overwhelmed him. He was caught.