New chapter is here! Woot woot! I hope you like it.
Mystery, danger, and intrigue intertwine with the shadows of the night more often than not. The unknown thrives when it cannot be seen or heard, and preys on those foolish enough to wander within its grasp. It slinks into homes and hides where children fear the most: in the closets and under the beds. It patiently waits for the moment when adults convince themselves and their children that there is nothing to fear. Then it strikes, smothering the illusion of safety and comfort that they have built around themselves as if that alone will keep out the dangers lurking in the dark.
No one is safe when the lights go out.
...
A floorboard shrieked as it was crushed underfoot, causing Dipper to wince slightly. He had decided to keep a mental list of every squeaky spot in his and Mabel's new bedroom so he would never have to step on them again. That didn't stop him from cringing every time one groaned underfoot, loud enough to alert almost the whole town that the Pines twins had finally arrived at the Mystery Shack.
Dipper was wholly unimpressed at the state of the building, with its sagging roof and decrepit sign that was shedding paint and even whole letters at an alarming rate. The whole thing looked like it was on the verge of collapse, but their Grunkle was adamant that it was the ultimate tool for conning the unsuspecting masses.
Stan Pines was... interesting. Dipper couldn't quite figure him out. The man wore an eyepatch that switched sides an alarming amount of times even within the first few hours of their visit. He acted like some massive con artist who swindled vast amounts of money from anyone and everyone, but he chose to live in an out of the way, sleepy town in a rundown old shack. He was a confusing mix of completely oblivious and extremely observant, and he made Dipper inexplicably nervous around him. Then again, Dipper was nervous around everyone, so he couldn't understand how this felt different. It just did.
Mabel didn't seem bothered by any of this. She was currently too busy bouncing on her bed and giggling excitedly as the rusty bed springs squeaked beneath her weight. The bare, wooden walls next to her were now an explosion of color and belongings that was headache-inducing when stared at for too long. It was a physical representation of her personality: bright, cheerful, loud, and unique. Dipper's side of the room was still taking shape, but it was much more subdued. Clothes that had yet to find a home were scattered about in various unlikely places, and stacks of novels had been placed at the foot of his bed. It was his haven in unfamiliar territory, a place where nothing changed when everything else had.
Satisfied with his mental map of any and all squeakiness, he crawled into the mess of blankets thrown haphazardly on his bed and bundled himself into a comfortable cocoon. Even if he wasn't totally sold on the idea of this trip being fun, he had to admit it would be nice to fall asleep with the odd, triangle-shaped window above his head cracked open, allowing a calming breeze and the sound of crickets to sweep through the room. From where his bed was, he had a fantastic view of the stars that balanced on the tops of the pine trees that flanked the Shack. He snuggled further into the warm embrace of the blankets as he gazed at the sky. It felt so nice, and he was exhausted from the bus ride. Mabel's loudness soon faded to background noise as he slipped from the overbearing grasp of reality into the dark.
Run.
The whisper glides along the wind, urging him to move faster, faster. He's already sprinting, his heaving lungs protesting painfully, calling out for him to slow his crazed pace. Still, the whispers panic matches his own, and he knows he can't stop. If he stops, this is all over.
Run. He's coming.
The stars above are blocked by the towering pines that surround him, but there are no obstacles that trip him up on his mad dash through the forest. Each step is sure and steady, the tread of someone who could walk along the path with their eyes closed and come out unscathed. He can only hope that will still hold true for him now.
He's coming. Keep going.
His birthmark burns across his forehead, warning him of the energy building up within him, demanding to be let out, almost at a breaking point. He ignores it for the moment, totally focused on escaping. He can't afford to be distracted, not now. Even if he did let it out, it couldn't save him at this point.
Keep going. Run.
So he keeps running, faster than he ever thought he could go, but not fast enough. He would never be fast enough. He knew that, yet he still ran. Maybe he would get lucky. Maybe things would be okay.
Run. He's here.
After running for so long without any snags, it was a shock to feel something wrap around his ankle, sending him sprawling into the dirt. He only has a moment to realize he has lost. Nothing can save him now. Everything ends here.
Tears begin to form in his eyes as he flips himself onto his back in order to face his doom head on. Might as well go down defiantly, since all his other options had been torn so callously from his grasp. He would be defiant because it was the last thing he could do for them, for her. This was his pitiful swan song, and it was all his fault. I'm so sorry, Mabel...
The sounds of the forest and the frantic whispering of the wind died abruptly, signaling the end of his final peaceful moment. He was here, and there was nowhere to run.
Something brushed past his ear gently, almost tenderly in a way. He tried to move his head away, failing to hold back a small yelp of alarm. In response, laughter echoes through the silent wood, filled with amusement, glee, and a smidge of maniacal intentions that is not at all reassuring. It has just barely faded off into the distance when the playful whisper tickles his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.
I found you, Pine Tree.
The world spinned alarmingly when he struggled to drive away his slumber, and Dipper arrived at a full state of consciousness as a heap of limbs and blankets tangled on the floor. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but a small snort and bit of sleepy mumbling from the other side of the room is enough to remind him. Mabel continued to sleep soundly, wrapped up in her own happy dream world. He sighed and quietly slipped back into his own bed, hoping not to bother her. He stayed awake for the rest of the night, and held his breath every time there was a lull in the noise coming through the cracked triangle window above his head.