A catchy song played on the radio, making the young pair of twins in the back bob their heads and jump in their seats to the music. Ford smiled, looking back with his near-view mirror, and his smile stayed even when he had to focus back on the road. His hands and body weren't used to driving the red Diablo, but he managed it okay, mostly because he was with his family.
Driving through the backwood-roads in the dark forest, the car was operating fine, but then the radio was glitching and the car was sputtering to a stop. The eight-year-olds in the back braced themselves as they slowed down, Ford listening carefully for an indication as to what was wrong with the Stanmobile.
"Grunkle Ford, what's wrong?" Dipper asked, the boy who often felt like a ghost.
"I'm not sure." Said the man who knew the most. "It sounds like the battery…"
"Maybe it has something to do with that." Mabel suggested, looking outside and pointing to a structure they were coming up on.
The car came to a stop in front of a very large, rich-looking, antique cabin. With many levels and even a tower, this grand old-styled building seemed to be beating with life, like a giant wooden heart, and a faint reddish glow came from within. The Diablo refused to move any further, so Ford and the kids got out. The aged scientist popped the hood with Dipper by his side and they both saw the red bolts of lightning sparking around the battery and engine, freezing everything.
"Looks like somebody doesn't want us to leave." Ford theorized and looked up at the large house, but he gasped with horror seeing his little niece skip to the door. "Mabel!" He hissed.
Dipper turned and ran after his sister, holding his lucky pinetree hat down to keep it from blowing off his Pines' fluffy brown hair. "Mabel, wait for me!"
The little girl stood on tippy-toes in her black flats and white socks and rang the doorbell. It sang a surprisingly joyful tune, and then the door opened. The children entered and the door remained open. Ford ran inside after his children; he knew they were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but given recent circumstances, he'd rather not take the risk.
The second Ford stepped inside the dwelling, however, the door closed by itself. The guardian wrapped an arm around each child, with Dipper on his left and Mabel on his right, and they were entertained by a small performance of bright red fire dancing in the suffocating darkness, until the flames landed on tall candles by the wall, and everything was highlighted with reds, oranges, and yellows.
Mabel's eyes dazzled with excitement, as well as Dipper's while he did sweat a bit on the forehead, and Ford was even more on guard. Three small goat-resembling blobs of red soul appeared from the floor and swarmed the small family. Mabel reached to pet one, but Dipper grabbed her hand and ran, and Ford ran after them.
The red fire brought life to the painting of Natives and lumberjacks. While the live humans ran down the hallways of the large wooden manor, many different ghosts flew around the air; little child-like spirits were being chased by punk ghosts, keys and keyhole were floating aimlessly, a soul-sucker landed on Ford's shoulder, but he flicked it away like it was an annoying bug.
"This place is amazing!" Dipper cheered. "Look how many categories, Grunkle Ford!"
"Yes, it is impressive," Ford huffed, half excited, half worried for the children's safety. "But let's hope we don't meet a Level- AAAAAAAHH!" A trap door suddenly appeared beneath him and the old scientist fell, the hole quickly covered before the kids could see what had happened.
Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, shrugged, and ran down the hall to the shining room ahead of them.
Ford fell harshly on a cold, concrete floor and rubbed the base of his back; he would be feeling that later. He looked around. He was in some kind of cellar, a room in the basement for storage, possibly food in the olden days. Ford looked ahead, and highlighted with glowing red energy, was a casket with a square skull on the door. As Ford stood and braced himself, the door opened to find a smartly dressed skeleton inside.
A skull missing it's bottom jaw glared at the old man, who was far too used to it to be too shaken, but he was on edge and ready to fight or flight; whichever would ensure he would make it out of the cellar alive. The skeleton had sharp cheekbones and jagged cracks. His skull levitated an inch above the collar of his suit, the lines sharp and smart, the lines and the tie coated in red, though the suit was black. His ribs were outside his jacket and his hands were an odd bland of glove and bone. But what was most peculiar was not the fact that a fancy-dressed skeleton was alive and glaring daggers at the meat-puppet before him. No, what conjured Ford's curiosity was the golden heart beating on the skeleton's right chest, like a badge of honor.
The ghost stepped out of the coffin, his heeled shoes clicking on the concrete floor, and he stopped right in front of Ford and pointed harshly at him. Ford glared back, hand in his trenchcoat, ready to shoot and by himself some time, but there was no guarantee if it would even have time for an attack.
It didn't matter. Suddenly the pupil-less eyes of the skeleton were lit up with red pupils, red fire encased more candles, and with an upward tilt of the skulls, a red block of fire appeared on his head. Ford, as quick as light, whipped out his special ray gun, shot, and ran for the exit. The ghost dodged the bolt of cold blue light with a lazy motion of his head, and then started to fly after his target.
Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel were helping themselves to big towers of warm pancakes in the kitchen, about to dig in when they heard the commotion. They poked their heads out of the kitchen and gasped to find their uncle cornered by a big ghost, definitely a Level 10, his back to the wall and his gun pointed at the angry spirit, but the kids knew they could help.
Just before the ghost could touch Ford, the pair of kids stood in front of their grunkle, both flinching and ready for the impact, their arms outstretched to try to shield their guardian, but they opened their eyes cautiously when no attack came.
The ghost had stopped, standing a few feet in front of the tiny family. His red eyes were on the children, and appeared to be… not angry. Almost sad. Mabel took a step forward. Maybe she could help Mr. Ghost feel better so he could go back to sleep. Maybe something hurt. She could kiss it better.
Dipper was right by Mabel's side, a hand on his chin, studying the ghost curiously, his brown eyes sparkling with wonder. Mabel grinned at the ghost and waved. "Hi, I'm Mabel!"
Instantly, the ghost seemed to smile. Kind eyes and a general aura that swore no harm. The young pair of twins noticed the golden heart floating towards them. Dipper's mouth was open slightly, while Mabel held her hands patiently for it, waiting for the heart to land on her, rather than harshly grab it and risk frightening the kind soul.
But then Ford scooped up the kids in his arms and ran for the door, leaving the kids to look back at the skeleton and for the skeleton to reach out longingly, only for the golden heart to fall to the floor and crack, now a cold, lonely, icy blue.
At once, the ghost was engulfed in rage and fire, his arms trembling with anger, and he had his red fire swallow the entire hall, with Ford jumping out, through the door, at the last second, with his kids in his arms. He piled them into the red Diablo and thankfully the ghost was too distracted to have the car deactivate again, and they sped away into the woods.
Inside the large cabin, the skeleton watched them go through a window. He picked up the cracked blue heart, tapping it so the locket opened. Inside, a picture of Stan holding his children in his arms, smiling and laughing and having a good time, haunted him. The broken spirit could only shed a single tear as he growled to himself and floated out of the manor, causing it to fade back into its tiny, pitiful, abandoned cabin once more.