Nope, I don't own Gravity Falls.
This takes place maybe a few days after the events of the episode "Sock Opera".
And for this little one-shot, I'm experimenting with a new writing style. I might write more stories in this style, but for now, it's just this one.
Static
It was the dead of night. If you were to listen closely, you might've been able to hear the call of an owl, or the howl of the wolf. Maybe you could hear the rattle of the tree branches as the wind weaved in-between them.
But in a shack, partially concealed by pine trees and the blanket of the dark night, you could hear something else.
Static.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
It was coming from the television. Gray static, speckled with white snow-like spots. Its noise filled the room of the shack, and the light coming off of the screen illuminated the room in a pale gray glow.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
The hissing static was deafening. But he who sat in front of the television couldn't be bothered to turn the device off. Though his eyes were seared by the bright light and he could feel his eyes burning... he would not turn it off. He could not turn it off.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
The sound was fixed into his head, so that he could not hear anything else. The static in the television continued on. And he sat with crossed legs and his arms wrapped around himself on the wooden floor as he stared at it. He stared... But he could not, he would not turn it off.
He wouldn't turn it off. He needed it to stay on. He needed it on.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
He felt his eyelids grow heavy, and slowly, they began to close. But he sat upright with a jolt. He could not let himself fall asleep. Not again. He knew what would happen if he did. He focused his attention onto the gray static, shivering slightly. But not from the chill of night.
From his fear.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
He focused on the static. Nothing else. He needed the static... It helped him stay awake. He needed to stay awake. If he turned the static off, if he silenced it, he would fall asleep...
And then...
He shook his head. He couldn't think about that. He told himself to focus on the static. And he did.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
He drew in a shaky breath and unfurled his arms. He reached out with one of them and ran his hand along the smooth screen of the television. The gray static continued on the screen, and his gaze never strayed from the gray-and-white. He removed his hand from the screen and crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forwards slightly.
Hiss.
Hiss.
Hiss.
He tried, oh, how he tried to keep his eyes open. He tried to stay awake. But like a moth to a flame, he was pulled into sleep. It was the lack of it that drew him in; he hadn't had any in... how long? He was deprived of it. Steadily, his eyelids shut, and with a shudder, he fell backwards onto the wood.
His vision grew dark as sleep pulled him further in, and slowly, the sound of the gray static faded away...
Hiss.
Hiss...
Hisssssss...
There was silence as the inky blackness of sleep surrounded him. Everything around him was dark, and somehow it grew darker with each passing second. He opened his eyes, but he was trapped in the dream now. Now, until his panic overtook him enough to pull him out of it.
"Pine Tree..."
He felt a chill run up his spine. That voice... He should've never closed his eyes. He should've never fallen asleep. It was going to happen again... again...
"Pine Tree..."
But the darkness around him... He couldn't escape from it. Was he still asleep? No, no, no, no, he had to wake up! He had to wake up!
He shut his eyes tightly and clutched his head with his hands, as if he could block out the feeling of dread and fear that was washing over him as the voice kept calling him.
"Pine Tree..."
He opened his eyes wide with terror, bloodshot even in his dream. No, not a dream, a nightmare. If he was here, then it had to be a nightmare. He fell forwards onto his knees, shuddering and shivering with his whole body shaking... shaking with fear.
"Pine Tree... I'm the one who controls the puppet-strings... You can't hide from me..."
He felt his vision grow blurred and foggy as water gathered in his eyes. A single tear slipped down his cheek like a raindrop, and a few more followed. The voice... It wouldn't leave him alone. It haunted him, it followed him like a shadow, like his own shadow, like he couldn't get rid of it.
When the voice spoke again, he could hear venom dripping into its tone.
"Pine Tree... You won't ever be free... You're still my puppet... You can try to hide, but you can't escape your puppet-strings..."
He gasped for breath. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his breathing was ragged and shallow. He was shaking harder, and he placed one hand over his heart. It was beating faster and faster, until he thought it would explode in his rib-cage. He willed the voice to stop, to leave him alone...
But it didn't...
"Pine Tree... You're just my toy, you're just my puppet... You're nothing else, you never will be. Now it's time to pull the puppet-strings."
He felt something coil around his arms, pulling him up onto his feet. His eyes darted to the side. It looked like a thin, glowing blue string. It pressed into his skin, and as he looked down, more of the strings wrapped around his ankles. His eyes flashed with panic, and he shook his head to himself.
This wasn't real, this wasn't real, this wasn't real. He was just playing games with him... It was all just a game to him!
He felt the strings tighten around him, before each pulled in a separate direction. His arms were raised over his head, and his legs splayed out so that his whole body was locked into almost a star shape. He tried tugging on the strings, but they were too tight for him to do anything...
He suddenly felt the ground disappear from below him, so that he was suspended in the air. His heart hammered in his chest as the strings tightened further.
His eyes flickered to the blue strings, and he felt his breathing speed up. Slowly, the blue was fading to red, and the fiery color was creeping towards him on the strings. When the color touched him, a searing pain coursed through him.
It was like fire. He felt the agony spread through him, overwhelming his senses. He felt like his own blood was boiling inside of him. He could hear somebody's twisted, sadistic laughter... enjoying his pain, his suffering.
He struggled against his restraints, but the pain only grew. Darkness began to form at the edges of his vision, spreading further throughout him. His senses dulled, and he felt a jolt of panic. He couldn't die in his sleep, could he?
"Pine Tree... My fun has only just begun."
Another wave of pain crashed over him, and with tears slipping down his face, he opened his mouth.
In the dead of night, you could hear the chitter of the crickets and the whistle of the breeze. But if you only listened closer, you could hear an agonized cry of sheer pain, before everything in the night went silent.