Okay so after this one, it'll take maybe a week or so to get the next one out, so keep an eye out for it. But in the meantime here's episode three, hope you enjoy!
Episode 3: Ghost Harassers: Booker's Lodge
Saturday afternoon. Cricket strode into the Dusk to Dawn corner store, walking on tired and sore feet. For a second she thought that she would stand out in the small store, hair a windblown and ratty mess, face red from the whipping wind, jet black long coat draped around her shoulders but not through her arms. But if she was being honest, the people who frequented corner stores were weird enough already and she was no different than them.
She plopped two Pitt 20 oz sodas, two large bags of chips, one sour cream and onion and one chili lemon, and a pack of redvines on the checkout counter. She unfolded the twenty dollar bill and handed it to the cashier.
Holding a paper bag hanging from her elbow and pocketing the change, Cricket exited the store and happily walked down the sidewalk back to their apartment, a skip in her step. Today had been a very successful day. She and her sister had been on their third excursion through the woods. Cricket had collected 58 samples including insect wings, grasshoppers, ants, a number of other insects, and dirt and plant samples. They'd just gotten home and Cricket had gone out to get some snacks before she examined the samples.
She walked past a store window. Inside were mannequins in inhuman positions as usual wearing the latest fall look. Even though it wasn't her style, she admired the pretty clothes. The next store was a pawn shop. In contrast to the clothes store, it was older and less colorful. But she saw that people were still inside, either looking to buy something or sell something. An orange flyer with a ghost on it was taped to the outside of the door. The end was cut into strips with phone numbers on each strip. Cricket stopped to examine the paper.
Ghost Harassers pay to stay a FULL night in a haunted house!
20 contestants
One prize
500 $!
It red in big colorful letters. All of the less interesting information was written underneath, such as who to contact if you want to enter and where the contestants will be staying. The Booker's Lodge.
Cricket took out her phone and snapped a quick picture of the flyer, then delicately ripped one of the strips of paper off of the orange sheet and pocketed it. This could be a major find if she was able to catch it! The Journal had written in it that ghosts were a very real phenomenon and valuable research could be done in a haunted house.
...
Bea had gotten bored being by herself in the apartment, so she had come down and found Joel sweeping the floor and Uncle Cisco drinking Pitt soda and being boring. Bea didn't realize Joel had a job right then, and held up a jar with a praying mantis to him. All he did was stare at it, but Bea didn't notice and blabbered on about the insect. She didn't know very much about it since it was always Cricket who actually studied them. Bea was more of her walking radio.
It was just like what they did back home. Cricket examined the samples, Bea played with them and strummed her guitar.
Bea opened the jar and stuck her hand inside, and the mantis crawled on her finger. She side stepped to get in close to Cisco and soon it was only inches from his face. He stopped munching on his granola bar, taking in the sight of the four inch green insect. He scrunched up his face.
"Look Uncle Cisco, isn't it cute?" Bea asked him.
"…It's creepy." Cisco replied, frowning. He scooted back in his chair.
Bea didn't register his disapproving glare, and kept going. "The girls are pink and eat the boy's head. Isn't that cool? This little guy is gonna have his head ripped off his body at some point."
Cisco peeped his head over the green bug. "Lucky bug. Where's your sister? Go bother her."
Bea retracted her hand and patted the mantis, stroking its tiny soon-to-be-gone head with a gentle finger. "She's out getting snacks. We're spending all day today sorting out her samples."
The door opened with a loud creek, and Cricket walked in.
Cisco breathed in a sigh of relief. "Finally. Take brat number 2 with you."
"Bea! You'll never believe what I found while I was out! Look!" Cricket set the groceries down on Cisco's desk and pulled out the orange strip of paper.
"Orange numbers! Swanky." Bea put the praying mantis on her shoulder and grabbed the paper.
"No, no, it's a competition. To stay in a supposedly haunted house for a night! This is their confirmation call. You wanna do it?" Cricket was already picking up the phone.
"Hmm." Bea thought, and turned her head to the bug perched on her shoulder. He looked back at her. Cricket added the last bit of information.
"Whoever stays the whole night gets a cash prize."
"Let's do it!" Bea jabbed a finger into the air, and the insect wobbled. Everything was quiet for a second as Cricket dialed the number. Bea stayed in her pose. Uncle Cisco shook his head, disgusted by their enthusiasm. The agape jar caught his eye.
"Is that our jar of grape jelly? That thing was half full yesterday!" He objected, confused.
Bea looked at the jar, then patted her stomach, shivering at the implied task she had undertaken just the day before of "emptying" the jelly jar.
Cricket heard a voice on the other end of the line and smiled.
...
The two girls rushed into their apartment, giggling and lightly shoving each other out of excitement. They were accepted! The guidelines stated that they had to go in pairs, and each could choose one object of their desire to bring with them. Cricket readjusted her black gloves she'd used to collect samples and checked she still had the Journal in her jacket's inner pocket. A corner stuck out of the cloth, and she knew what object she wanted to bring.
"What are you gonna bring?" She asked Bea, who was rummaging through her room. She emerged from the mess with her guitar and held it out in front of her.
"Really?" Cricket cocked her head. Not annoyed, just confused.
Bea shrugged and played a short lick, then tuning the A string which was a little flat. Crick opened the Journal and motioned for her sister to join her. She pointed to the page on poltergeists. A sketch of a skull shrouded in mist covered most of the first page. Claw- like misty hands were outstretched in front of it as if it was about to grab something. The other page had a few paragraphs and endless hastily scribbled notes.
"These things are real, Bea." Cricket marveled.
Bea's eyes combed the page. She broke the tension. "… Do you think they'll like guitar music?"
"I dunno, maybe. Look right here, it says that to trap one all you need is a mirror. And it says that if you think you might be near one, one of the telltale signs is that the room will smell like rotten eggs."
"Why rotten eggs? Why not something nice like cake? The specter demographic is such a negative one, but they're just adding to it by smelling bad." Bea gestured to the ghost on the page.
Cricket closed the book and tucked it back in her jacket.
As they left, Bea placed her praying mantis friend back in its jar. But she didn't close it tight enough, because as soon as they left the apartment, the mantis reached up with one of its claws and began undoing the lid.
...
The girls trotted through the woods to the location. Bea held the picture of the orange flyer on Cricket's phone and was reading the entire thing, guitar case on her back. Crick took the lead.
"Hey I've heard of Ghost Harassers before!" Bea exclaimed. "They were always on TV back home-" She did a face plant on the floor, having tripped on a branch. The phone rolled out of her hand. It rolled to a stop at the feet of someone wearing Mike running shoes.
"Nice trip. See ya next fall, Buzzy." An annoying voice made Bea's blood boil. Zanderick. He picked up the phone and shook the soil off of it.
There was a kid next to him, wearing an orange hat and a neon green shirt. He was one of the tallest high schoolers Cricket had ever seen, at least 6'6. He was rubbing his hands together
She spit out the dirt in her mouth. "Dirt. That's dirt."
Cricket had never met this kid, and didn't know what to make of him. But Bea dusted off her shoulders and refused to look at him in the eye, giving her a clue as to who he was.
"Looks like this bee likes to stay close to the ground, huh?" Zanderick got another high five from Orange Hat. Bea crossed her arms and focused on a high branch. "Nice one." She said in a hushed tone and grabbed Cricket's arm, intent on removing themselves from the situation.
The boy snickered and pushed the phone into Cricket's stomach and let go. She caught it in her hands after fumbling with it for a second. Zanderick's friend high fived him. "See you at Booker's Lodge, losers." He sneered.
Bea started dragging her sister away. Zanderick smirked and he and his friend kept walking.
"Who was that? One of your friends?" Cricket and Bea entered a clearing and Bea slapped her hand with her forehead.
"Hardly. He's some guy from school. Ugh, I can't believe he got into the competition too. Now we have to spend a whole night with a total jerk." Bea rubbed her temples. "Didn't even talk to him for thirty seconds and I already have a headache. He's messing with my vibe."
"But no one has been able to mess with your vibe since grade school!"
Bea put her sister's hand on her forehead. Cricket gasped. Bea's spunk radiation levels had been greatly reduced. "I'm not feeling the urge to dance!"
"See I told you!" Bea threw her arms in the air.
All of this was very new to Cricket. As far as she knew, her sister hadn't ever had a single bully. Everyone loved her, she was so likable. She didn't have a clue what to do, usually mean comments and cruel jokes were directed at her.
"Hey don't worry about him. We're here to win a contest, and remember: We have a leg up already." Cricket slipped the journal a quarter of the way out to cheer her up. Bea cracked a small smile.
"Maybe you're right. And this way he won't be able to make fun of me anymore!" Bea rubbed her hands together. "Suck on that, Zanderick."
The two left the clearing.
...
A news van was parked outside a dusty and worn out house. The house was the kind of white that may have been new when it was built, but now resembled the same color as a middle aged man who'd never heard of a tooth brush. The roof stood atop a three story structure and was a maroon tint. Uniform square somewhat-shattered windows, an old door with a rusty doorknob, the works of a generic haunted house. The grass around it was brown and partially covering the steps leading to the porch, as well as a good two feet of the walls around the perimeter. A sign hung over the door that read "Booker's Lodge."
A news crew stepped out of the blue and white van (an enormous contrast to the Lodge), led by a short woman with sunflower-blonde hair that curled at the ends just above her shoulders, and a light blue pantsuit. She was beaming at the house, then turned to the camera and cleared her throat. The camera guy, a tall and lanky young man with a red flannel shirt, brown hair, and a goatee signaled 3… 2… and then pointed at her. She remained like a statue for a solid ten seconds before beginning her report.
"This is Gina Catalyst reporting to you live from the Booker's Lodge where twenty contestants have been announced to be staying an entire night in one of the most haunted areas in Gravity Falls. Thought to have been destroyed nearly fifty years ago, the Lodge was rediscovered six years ago today, and the Ghost Harassers are looking to shake up their dynamic by holding a contest and rewarding the winning team with five hundred dollars!"
Bea and Cricket entered the frame when they climbed the steps to the porch. Bea stopped walking and waved to the camera. It was only when Cricket pulled her inside the door with her that she left the frame. But not a second later, Cricket herself reopened the door and gave a quick wave to the camera. The reporter continued.
"The catch? You have to remain in the house for the entire night. Will they be able to do it? Find out tonight. This is Gina Catalyst, and we'll have more at nine, stay tooned." She winked and the cameraman called that they were off air.
...
Cricket walked into the living room where another eighteen people, all her age or younger, were milling around, talking to each other and other groups. One pair sat criss cross on the floor, another two were admiring an old painting. Zanderick pushed through the small crowd and drew a curly moustache on the woman in the painting. He snickered and got yet another high five from Orange Hat. Cricket huffed, and her eyes scanned the rest of the room for her sister. She was greeting her dark haired friend from Videogame Night.
"Conman, what's up!? You got in too?" Bea fist bumped him and turned to his partner. "Lolo, what's good?" The small girl next to Connor was his best friend. She wore a long jacket that went past her waist, and her thick black hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She curled a fist at Bea.
"Nothing major, worthy adversary. However, we will be victorious and our triumph over the lesser will be awesome!" She replied in an over exaggerated tone. "You don't stand a chance against us, Bea. Not with my EVP monitor."
"Your what?" Bea stifled a laugh. Lolo pulled out a gadget from her jacket pocket and waved it.
"This doohickey can detect ghosts." Conner explained. "We're gonna communicate with it and make friends with it and hang out with it all night."
"That's an oversimplification, but generally yes, that is our plan." Lolo nodded. She and Connor wiggled their fingers together.
"And what did you bring, Connor?" Bea asked him. He pulled out a burrito half wrapped in tin foil and took a bite out of it.
"Genius." Bea admired with wide eyes.
"Can't befriend ghosts on an empty stomach. I am wise beyond my years." He said, mouth full.
Cricket put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Hey Bea, they're calling everyone into the other room to do a briefing."
The four headed in the direction of the others.
...
Cisco was into the second bag of chips. He had his feet propped up on the front desk and was leaned back in his chair. His hand scrolled down the Chattr feed on his phone. He clicked on a short video:
A novice cameraman had taken a series of short videos and linked them together. He shot vertically and stuck a finger out at a guy walking down the street in his late teens.
"Dang, Damien!" The cameraman exclaimed at Damien's socks, which were a stylish shade of pink.
Each video, Damien was admired by the cameraman for wearing a certain kind of sock.
"This is what passes for entertainment these days? I could easily do better than this buffalo cheese, what with my extensive knowledge of-" A small green limb poked up from behind Cisco's phone. He flinched and brought his phone to his chest. Standing on his desk was Bea's praying mantis. It had tried to crawl up on him. Cisco eyed him uncertainly. He carefully resumed his relaxed position and tried to bat it away.
"Shoo. Go on." He told it. The mantis stayed still. "Go, go on, the door is right over there, get lost." The mantis crawled an inch closer to him. "No, I said- oh what am I doing? This bug might not speak English." He drew a pamphlet out of a stack and put it down in front of the green insect, hoping it would crawl on it. It took a few steps back. "Why do bugs always do this, just get on the paper. I'm gonna throw you out a window."
The mantis snapped at his closest finger with one of its claws and Cisco dropped the pamphlet, pulling his hand away. He narrowed his eyes at the bug. Bringing the bag of chips back out from under his desk, he ate a handful. The bag disappeared back under the desk. Neither Cisco nor the praying mantis stirred. Then without warning, the green bug took flight in the direction of Cisco's face. He yelped in panic and dove underneath the desk. He hated bugs, especially the bigger ones. The bug landed at the edge of the table, and it cast a shadow on the wall. The shadow was huge compared to its actual size, and its tiny movements seemed ferocious. Its jaws snapped open and closed multiple times, and Cisco's eyes widened.
"It's out for blood." He hissed to himself in an urgent tone.
...
"This concludes the briefing. Are there any questions before the challenge starts?" A woman with one side of her head shaved and a nose ring asked the group of contestants. A hand flew up. It was Orange Hat. He'd been prodded hard by Zanderick to ask the question for him.
"Is pushing someone out of the house allowed?"
The woman dully flipped through the note cards she was given. She made the "more or less" motion with her hand. Zanderick smirked at one of the less tough partnerships, one of Bea's classmates named Douglas, and pounded his fist with his palm. The woman did not see any other hands up, so she threw the cards behind her and walked away. "And begin." She closed the front door behind her.
The twenty contestants murmured excitedly amongst each other. Douglas and his partner, an equally nerdy girl, dashed out of sight to get away from Zanderick's intimidating fists.
Cricket got to work right away. The two girls left the room, hoping to find a quiet room to begin their investigation. Back in the briefing room, there were no eyes on the painting Zanderick had defaced. The eyes on the girl moved eerily to the right.
"First thing to do is set up a base." From inside the same pocket that the Journal was tucked away, Cricket fished out a bag of salt.
Bea gasped. "They said you could only bring one thing?"
"I haven't broken the rules, see?" She had tied the opening of the bag closed and attached the string to the bookmark of the Journal. "Technically-" her voice took on an 'iffy' edge to it and was raised an octave. "-this is totally still one object."
"Oh. Swanky." Bea nodded. "Man I love loopholes." She proceeded to unzip her guitar case and pull the strap over her shoulder. Then she played a few chords together. "I'll play while we're not doing anything. So what's the first step in… whatever it is that you wanted to do?"
Cricket undid the tie on the salt bag and thought about it for a second. She'd run into this contest without thinking about what it was that she had planned to do while in the house. She didn't want to only study the ghost from afar and make notes, and she didn't want to necessarily drive it away. What did she want to do with it?
"Uhh…Hmm. I at least want to get a sample of its ectoplasm. And… if it's verbal, I'd like to record a conversation in the Journal." She started pouring salt on the doorway. "Just in case Mr. Ghost isn't friendly."
...
Back in the other room, most of the other contestants remained sitting or standing around. One group walked around the third floor hallways. Three groups sat around in a circle in a bedroom on the second floor, hands clasped together while one chanted a rehearsed ritual. They were dressed in dark clothing and had clearly entered the contest to make contact with any ghosts in the vicinity.
Zanderick and Orange Hat had a contestant by the collar of his shirt and the belt of his shorts. Together, they tossed him out of the house and onto the dirty ground below through the nearest window. Zanderick grasped one of his wrists and rotated it, popping a small bone back into place in the process.
He paced around the living room. "This house is so stupid. Looks like my grandma's place, all ancient and stone age-y."
Orange Hat pricked up at this. "Remember the last time we went to you grandma's? She made those custard- filled croissants and she let you lick the spoon-"
"Shut it, Alan!" He punched Alan in the stomach, but it barely did anything to him, him being the size he was. Zanderick kicked the old coffee table, wanting to watch the dust fly everywhere. He looked out of the window. A thin, pearly white smile of a moon made the window frame cast a shadow on his face. It was late in the night.
"Let's look for more dweebs to dump out of this dump." Zanderick found the staircase and raced up it. The boards under his feet creaked with age. The dust in the living room settled, and everything was silent.
Some of the dust particles rose from the floor. There was a disturbance in the air. A powerful force sent thousands of specs of dust soaring like waves, and something smacked against the coffee table. A perfect hand print marked its surface.
...
A cloud of dust was dislodged from the boards on the ceiling, and a layer of dirt and filth landed right on Bea's hair and in her eyes. She shook herself vigorously. "Out of all the rooms we had to pick the one under the staircase." She exclaimed. The floorboards above creaked as two sets of feet ran up them. Cricket was busy setting up their base of operations.
...
Zanderick wandered around the hall of the house's second floor. From inside of one of the rooms, he heard someone whispering. He jumped at first. Then, with a shove, he pushed Alan in front of him to open the door first. Alan hesitated, but with one single movement he threw open the door and flinched. Inside were the circle of 6 kids dressed all in black.
Zanderick's skin crawled, but he stood his ground. The one reciting the ritual spotted him and stood still. The rest looked at him with disdain; he'd interrupted them.
"What's going on here?" He asked, resuming his cocky and rude air.
"We wish to summon Misty." The chanter said after a moment, a girl with black hair covering one eye, the other traced in black eye liner. Her skin was pale white, and she wore a black dress with spikey bracelets covering her arms.
"Misty?" He said.
"You haven't heard of Misty, the ghost of Booker's Lodge?" She shook her head and sat down and blew out the largest of the candles. The smoke slithered like snakes through the room. She breathed in, and then out.
"Fifty years ago, when Gravity Falls was still a small, relatively unknown town, Misty Booker ran an inn called the Booker's Lodge." The smoke revealed a flashback. "Travelers seeking their fortune would stay there for a few nights on their way westward."
Misty was shown to be a beautiful woman with long, bleach- blonde curly hair and a blue dress. She talked with one of the travelers, a miner with a long beard. In another scene, she served breakfast to the guests. In the communal living room, a small boy drew on her walls with a red crayon. "She was very well-liked. But the miners soon cleared so many rocks and trees from the area around the town that one stormy night, the ground around the Lodge became muddy with rain, and washed it away. That night, the miners were all out-" Misty said goodbye to the last miner and closed her door. "All except Misty." The giant mudslide crashed against the outer wall of the Lodge, and Misty was flung backwards. A bookcase was launched in her direction, and she screamed. The house was carried away with the sludge. "Word got out that it had been crushed in the mud, others thought it had just been lost in the storm. Until six years ago today." The flashback ended and Zanderick was left stunned. "Sources tell that Misty does not like visitors staying in her inn anymore. She'll go after anyone who dares try to stay the night."
Bea and Cricket heard the whole thing, heads pressed up against one of the walls. They looked at each other.
"It's a good thing these walls are so worn out." Bea patted a part of the wooden ramshackle of a wall and part of it came away. Roaches spilled out from inside. "Do you think it's real?" Asked Bea.
"I don't know. Could be. If so, it'll be a great find for the Journal."
From behind them, a foggy and murky blue figure floated across the doorway. Neither one saw it, but Cricket's spine tingled and a tremor shook her body.
"Y'know, when you shake like that for no reason, it means someone in the future just walked over your grave." Bea offered.
...
Back in the apartment, Cisco cowered under his desk. The mantis's jaws snapped together twice more. He grabbed the open bag of chips next to him and crunched another in his mouth. The bug's head turned in his direction, and he shrunk further.
"I have to make a run for it." He whispered, and gathered himself. The door to the lounge was only a few yards away. With a burst of speed, he leapt out from under his desk and made for the door, bag of chips in hand. He was about to grab the handle, but the insect landed on the copper knob. He screeched to a halt and dashed in the other direction. There was a hallway with apartment doors on either side, and he tried the first one. Open! He slammed the door behind him. A tiny bump on the other side of the door indicated that the mantis had hit it. It buzzed around. Cisco locked the door.
"Arthur! You're here." An old woman behind him said. She was sat on an old fashioned couch, kitting what looked like a scarf in a muted pink color. Taking a good look around, the apartment was all old fashioned. The walls were done in floral print, wooden framed pictures decorated them. A china cabinet displayed porcelain plates, bowls, and cups. A grandfather clock ticked the seconds by. There was even a gold chandelier on the ceiling. The tiny woman got up from the couch and set her knitting materials down. She headed for the kitchen.
Cisco peered through the peephole. "Where are you you six- legged menace?"
"It's been so long since you've visited, Arthur!" The old lady's voice was next to him.
"I'm not Arthur, I'm-" He was going to correct her, but she held out a tray of cookies.
"I saved these just for you!" She smiled sweetly. It was clear that her head was gone. Cisco shrugged and tried one. He choked. They must have been a decade old! The lady put the tray down on the end table next to the couch and sat back down. He stared at her for a second longer, and then focused back on the peep hole. The mantis's head was covering the entire lens and Cisco jumped back.
"What does he want?!" He pounded his fist on the door.
"You always did like those peanut butter cookies." The lady called from her needlework.
He needed to get the taste of those centurion cookies out of his mouth, and opened his bag of chips. But idea floated into his mind.
He handled a chip between two of his fingers. Then he looked back at the bug on the other side.
...
"You'll regret this mistake!" The chanter yelled from the grass. Zanderick and Alan had thrown them all out of the house. The group disappeared behind the trees.
"I regret nothing!" He replied. "Alan? How many more losers do we have left? I promised myself in the seventh grade I would never solve another math problem again."
Alan counted on his fingers. "… Ten."
"I can work with that number." Zanderick nodded and turned to face the door.
In front of him was a soaking wet woman of about thirty years old. Her hair was a tangled, ratty mess, but under the mud it was a shimmering white- blonde. Her dead eyes sunk into her skull, creating dark rings around them. Her blue dress tattered and dull, stuck to her body by the water. She was dripping all over. He wanted to scream, but his throat wouldn't work.
Alan was frozen in place, but then he relaxed and laughed. "Bet you regret it now, huh?"
"Red paint." Misty seethed.
Zanderick's brow furrowed and he snapped out of his terrorized trance. "Move you idiot!" He swatted at the ghost, and it evaporated. He stepped back, and then ran out of the room, Alan in tow.
Misty phased through each of the rooms, terrifying all of the other contestants who remained in the lodge. "Red paint." She repeated over and over again, searching for something. Or someone.
...
Connor and Lolo had found themselves a nice room to start an EVP session with Lolo's device.
Connor swung his legs around on an old table while Lolo set up the monitor. It buzzed to life, and her little face brightened.
"It's ready." She raised her eyebrows.
"Awesome! What should we ask it first?" Connor hopped off the table.
Lolo raised a finger and held down the talk button. "Is there anyone here with us?" They waited a few seconds and played back the recording. Something had answered:
Yeah I'm here.
"Did you hear that?!" Connor jumped up and down. "A ghost!"
"Shhh! I heard something. It was coming from the cabinet over there." Their eyes rested on the cupboard on the far wall. Lolo pushed Connor toward it, and he tip toed to it. He grabbed the handle, and stared back at his friend. She nodded excitedly and did the signal for 'go on'. He gulped and threw open the door. Crammed inside was… Douglas and his partner.
"Don't tell Zanderick we're in here!" Douglas's voice cracked, as it often did in class.
"We'll have to conduct our investigation somewhere else." Lolo said, giving Douglas a glare of disappointment. But Douglas swooned at the sight of her.
"Hi, Lolo."
"Hello, Douglas." Lolo slammed the cabinet door closed and walked out.
Now in a different room, they tried again.
"Is anyone in here with us?" She asked, more clearly this time. After a few seconds, she played the recording over.
[Static] leave my [static] lodge.
Connor became worried. But Lolo kept going. "Why do you want us to leave? We mean you no harm."
"Dude," He said nervously. "Isn't it a given that if a supernatural entity tells you to do something, you do it?"
"Don't worry, it's only a ghost." Lolo reassured him. Turning away from him and fiddling with the controls of the monitor. Connor could see his own breath, and he rubbed his arms together. She flicked it with her finger to get it working properly. "What harm could it really do?"
Fog surrounded the room. Lolo didn't notice, but Connor shook from the cold. He prodded her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "I've almost figured out how to put the settings on high." A shadow formed on the floor, a silhouette of a woman with long tangly hair. Connor shook her again.
"Dude, I almost have it! Do you want to have a conversation with this ghost or not?" Connor's hand pointed at the foggy shadow on the ground, jaw dropped. Lolo dropped her EVP monitor on the floor, startled. The shadow peeled itself from the ground and formed the dripping wet form of Misty. "Red paint." She said menacingly. She spit out an ear piercing shriek, and the two friends booked it out of Booker's Lodge without a second thought, screaming the entire way out.
...
"Did you hear that?" Cricket heard screaming.
"Misty?" Bea took the neck of the guitar in her hands and gave it a few practice swings.
"Maybe. The Journal gives ghosts a rating from one to ten, ten being the worst. I didn't think Misty would be that high up there, but it looks like I could be wrong." Cricket flipped through the Journal's entries on specters while Bea took a peek outside the room.
"What did you need to catch a ghost again?" She asked, fear creeping inside of her.
"You'd need a manmade mirror or highly reflective surface. Why?" Crick didn't look up from the Journal. Bea backed away from the doorway, guitar dragging on the ground.
"We're gonna need one right about now." Bea held on tight to her sister's jacket sleeve. Misty Booker stood as clear as if she was a real person with flesh and blood on the other side of the doorway. She touched the invisible barrier the salt created, and gazed at it for a while. "Red paint." She whispered eerily. Cricket rummaged around the room, but there was no mirror in sight. Her hands shook with sheer terror. There's a ghost, there's a ghost, my gosh there's an actual ghost actually here with us.
"Do you have the mirror?" Cricket asked her sister, frantic.
"I thought you were going to get it!"
"Bea, there's no mirror in this room. We're trapped!"
As if on cue, Zanderick and his friend hauled it through the room Misty was in. Alan ran right passed but Zanderick screeched to a halt, having spotted the line of salt. He ran inside the room, carelessly barreling into Cricket. Bea shoved him off. Cricket noticed that Misty was following Alan and had disregarded Zanderick in full. The three watched as Alan ran off through the living room and into a hallway.
"I knew some day he'd be useful." Zanderick said in a huff, leaning against the doorway.
"Wait, you're just going to leave him?" Cricket was actually not surprised by this, but still felt the need to ask anyway.
"Of course I am! I'm not an idiot." He retorted.
"Debatable." Bea muttered.
But Zanderick continued. "I'm staying right here behind that white line where it's-" All three turned to the salt line that Zanderick had destroyed with his unanticipated entry. Cricket jumped at this and immediately got on her hands and knees to repair the various breaks in the lines.
"Safe." He finished, less sure this time.
"Fantastic." Bea slow clapped, and his face turned red with anger.
Cricket spoke up. "Oh no. Most of the salt is either too scattered to recollect, or it's all gone in between the floorboards." She hurriedly dashed to the open Journal on a counter and paged through it, making sure to keep it hidden from their unwelcome guest.
"You two seem to know a lot about ghosts. What's going on?" Zanderick pried annoyingly.
Cricket was barely listening so Bea covered for them. "We're just big fans of Ghost Harassers."
"Pshh. Nerd."
"What was that?" Bea raised her fists.
"Stop it you two. We're gonna get your friend and then find a mirror." Cricket pocketed the Journal.
"Going after the ghost? Count me out." Zanderick waved his hands around in the 'no way' motion.
"Good. Leave. We don't want you in our fan club." Bea said curtly.
Zanderick left the room and started for the exit. A floorboard creaked underneath him, and he jolted. He took another step, but the horrendous sight of green goo seeping out of the walls made him cringe. Ominous music played in the background, and deep laughter could be heard coming from underground.
Cricket and Bea readied themselves to go out. Zanderick fast- walked back inside. "Never mind, where're we going?"
...
"Do you like Cable?" Cisco asked his new buddy, who snapped his mandibles in response. He turned the tv on and an episode of a show called Kidchen was airing. It showed babies attempting to make dishes. One had jam smothered all over its head, and the other one was just playing with a dead fish.
"They don't make 'em like they used to, aye?" Cisco shook his head. He popped a chip into his mouth. The mantis snapped its jaws, and Uncle Cisco tossed him a chip. The bug chomped down on the tasty treat.
...
Zanderick and the girls wandered through the first floor of the lodge. Zanderick was snapping his fingers expectantly. One in particular was louder than the rest, and Cricket gave.
"Why are you doing that?" She asked.
"Usually works. Alan!" He called, and snapped his fingers another three times.
"There!" Bea pointed to a hallway were Alan was cowering in the corner. "Hey! Alan! Over here."
Alan shook his head and rocked back and forth.
"It's kinda nice seeing Alan like this." Bea admitted, giddy.
"Bea." Cricket scolded.
"Oh I'll get him. You two are obviously too scared to." Zanderick pushed passed the girls and made his way toward his friend. Bea composed herself and tapped her foot angrily, and Crick readjusted her glasses and looked on anxiously.
Zanderick got to his friend and bumped him with his foot. "C'mon. Get up, you're making me look bad." Alan shook his head. He peeked out from under his arms, saw something behind Zanderick, and shrunk back. "What's wrong, it's just a dumb old house." The marker was on the floor next to him and Zanderick picked it up. A murky figure cast a shadow over them both.
Zanderick turned around and froze, dropping the marker. Misty Booker floated above him. Cricket looked around for some iron object. Propped up next to the fireplace were a few tools, made out of cast iron! Cricket grabbed one and threw it to him. "Catch!" She yelled. He was a football player and caught it without problem.
"Thanks! See ya later!" Zanderick bashed open the window just above Alan, dropped the iron bar, and climbed out. Alan followed.
"Ooh, when I find him I'm gonna-" Bea rolled up the sleeves of her jersey and started toward the window. But Cricket stopped her.
Meanwhile, Misty was trying with all of her might to escape the house. She forced her hand through the open window, and the air around it wavered and distorted the image of trees on the other side, almost like a force field. Cricket gasped. The image of Zanderick's red marker flashed in her mind. Red paint!
"Zanderick!" Was all she could think to get out.
"Yeah, I know. He left us here." Bea huffed.
"No no no, Zanderick! That's who Misty's been after this whole time! Remember before when he 'painted' a 'red' moustache on Misty Booker's picture? That's what she's angry about. But her eyesight is almost gone-" Misty's eyes were shown to indeed be mostly gone. "-and she can't see anything, save the red on Zanderick's marker! Whoever has it, she thinks is him."
"Oh, that's easy then." Bea sauntered over to the ghost trying to force its way out of the lodge, and swiped the marker from the floor. Misty's eyes (or lack thereof) locked onto it. Bea returned to Crick.
"Why on earth did you pick it up and bring it here?!" Cricket asked loudly, incredulous.
Bea looked at the marker in her hand, and then had a realization. "I… I don't know. Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Red paint." Fog filled every inch of the hall. Misty started toward them.
Bea squinted, and then laughed. "OH! There's a joke here. She's a ghost, and her name is Misty! Now's that's a prime example of cruel irony right there."
"Drop the marker and run!" Cricket and Bea made for the exit, and Bea did as told. The two tore past the front door, and then past the news anchor Gina Catalyst who stood perfectly still, eyes glassy and smile plastered on her face. The camera man had been rolling for a considerable amount of time, and face palmed.
...
[From Misty's obscured point of view]
She saw the 'red paint' in the form of a moustache on her beautiful portrait. She touched her own face, and growled. Then she heard voices outside of the house.
"Home is this way!" One shouted from a distance. Misty arrived at the front door and held out a hand. It touched the force field, and it had a ripple effect on the supernatural force. She saw a hint of red in the distance. It bobbed up and down a top a person. Red paint, she thought. They would pay for what they did to her painting. With all of her willpower, she smashed against the force field keeping her inside. It didn't give. She hit it again. Half of her body was out. She put her hands on one of the beams supporting the roof of the porch and pulled with all of her might. The beam chipped under the immense pressure. Misty was jarred forward. She'd escaped the confines of the Lodge. Red paint, she thought again.
...
"There go our five hundred dollars!" Bea said breathlessly. They'd stopped for a rest.
"Small price to pay to stay alive." Cricket wiped the sleeve of her jacket on her forehead.
Fog surrounded them in a second. "Woah!" Cricket exclaimed. The sisters glanced at each other before being encased in the mist. Cricket could no longer see anyone or anything around her.
In another section of the mist, Bea held her guitar ready to swing.
Cricket blinked rapidly, trying to get her bearings. "Why the heck is it still following us?! We got rid of the red marker."
"Red paint." Misty's voice echoed off the trees to her right.
"Crick? Our ghost likes my head a lot." Bea's disembodied voice stammered.
"Think! Think of something! If not a mirror, what else can trap it?" The ground at Cricket's feet turned to mush. She slipped. The mud had a thin film of water on top of it, and in it she could see her reflection.
… Reflection! That was it! Larger bodies of water were reflective on the surface. And on a clear night like this (save the fog Misty was conjuring), lakes were like a perfect mirror. All she had to do was lead it to a pond or lake.
"I've got it." It was very hard to stand back up, but Cricket managed. "Bea! Where are you?! Bea!" She yelled out.
"You don't have to scream, I'm right here." Bea emerged from the right of the wall of fog.
"Oh. I thought-"
"We were right next to each other a second ago, and I'm still-
"Right."
"-five feet away. Yeah."
The mist between them cleared, and the spot Bea had been a second ago was still unobstructed by fog. She had indeed been only five feet away.
"Yeah. Anyways, I know what to do. Follow me."
They decided on heading in a single direction, as it was a sure way out. Cricket hid Bea's vibrant red hair in her jacket for the rest of the way out.
"We passed a lake a while back, that's where we're headed." Cricket located the lake in the Journal. It was known for being crystal clear, thus dubbed "Crystal Lake" by the author of the Journal.
"And you'll need to take this off." Crick took her black jacket back. Misty emerged from the sea of clouds and followed them. The girls dashed off.
Now at the edge of the lake, Cricket placed her sister out in the open. She took her guitar off of her back and leaned it against a nearby tree.
"Crick? I'm not so sure about this."
"Don't worry, you'll do fine." Cricket ruffled Bea's hair and took a step away. Bea stared out into the dark abyss of a forest. Cricket watched intently as well, clenching and unclenching her fists and bending her knees slightly. The billowing murk burst through the tree line. The ground underneath became muddy. Bea's legs wobbled, but this time Cricket was ready.
Misty phased through a pine and hovered toward her sister. "You. Red paint. Face."
"You need a vision check, lady, it's not me!" Bea tried retreating, but the lake was behind her. Cricket's eyes moved from her sister to the ghost, back and forth. She took her jacket off and laid it on the floor. Misty was a meter away from Bea, and Cricket dove forward, catching her sister and pulling them both into the freezing water.
Bea broke the surface first, and Misty gazed out at her. Then, at her own reflection. The two dark holes that were supposed to be her eyes widened, and she back tracked. But a supernatural pull latched firmly onto her. Misty fell to the ground, kicking up sloshy gravel. She screeched and wailed, but her form dissolved and she appeared once more in the reflection of Crystal Lake.
Cricket broke the surface slowly so as to not cause a significant break in the reflection, squirting water out of her mouth like a fountain. The girls carefully swam to the edge of the lake and climbed out. Bea admired Cricket's work and the mastermind herself retrieved her signature jacket. The specter wrenched her body forward, but this time there was no force field to break. She was stuck for good this time.
...
Cricket, Bea, and Uncle Cisco were jolted awake by the TV turning on. When the girls had finally gotten home the night before, they'd found Cisco with Bea's praying mantis on the couch watching reruns of an old black and white TV show. Neither of them wanting to sleep, they settled on watching the show until the early hours of the morning, sharing any remaining snacks; Bea texting Connor and Lolo, and Cricket writing in the Journal.
Bea was upright in a second, revealing her tangled rat's nest of hair that had a potato chip stuck in it. Cricket yawned from her position on the floor, having used her black jacket as a pillow. Cisco fell off of the couch, scaring the mantis away and out of an open window nearby. He scowled.
"I thought we had something special." He said to himself.
Joel walked in the room TV remote in hand, and settled himself on the couch. He had gotten a full night's sleep and had his signature bowl of cold cereal in his arm. He flipped through a few channels until he found the one concerning the Ghost Harassers and Booker's Lodge, and Cisco dozed off again. The reporter on the other side of the screen smiled happily and sipped a warm cup of coffee.
"After spending a full night in the famed Booker's Lodge of Gravity Falls, it is now time to see who has stayed."
Cricket scratched her head groggily. "No one stayed, that place was horrifying."
But in fact, someone had managed to stay the whole night. Douglas and his nerdy partner emerged from the Lodge, disoriented and squinting from the direct sunlight. His partner stretched her arms and legs out, an indicator that they'd spent the whole night hidden in the cupboard. Douglas was almost blind and stumbled onto the grass, almost tripping. The reporter put an arm around him and he looked into the camera that was shoved in his face, bewildered.
"You have just won five hundred dollars! Tell us, lucky winner; how do you feel?" Gina leaned in close.
His partner answered. "Cramped." She clutched her stomach, clenching her hands.
"We… we won?" Douglas rubbed his eyes. "Yes! My cowardice was good for something for once!"
"That blows! We should've won the contest, we were the ones who put away the ghost!" Bea pouted.
"We did, but we also didn't stipulate to the parameters of the contest. I hate to say it, but Douglas won fair and square." Cricket bunched up the jacket and rested her head on it. "What I hate more is that we didn't get any good samples."
"That's okay, we'll get 'em next time." Bea's comment lifted Crick's spirits. "Man, so many things I could've done with two hundred and fifty dollars."
Joel perked up at this and reached into his wallet. While he did that, Cricket focused on the collar of her jacket. Something glowed from underneath it. It was ectoplasm. Her face brightened at the find.
Joel pulled out a crumpled up bill and put it on Bea's lap. It was a currency that Bea didn't recognize.