First Summerween (one-shot)
Adding a needlessly fancy flourish to his final pen stroke, the young researcher finished the latest entry in his journal. A giddy excitement lightened his features as he proofread his work, an entry on a species of bioluminescent wildflowers that he caught migrating from clearing to clearing in the dead of night. He spent last night following their bluish-green glow and observing the way in which the organisms interacted with each other. Fascinatingly, the flowers’ roots behaved much like appendages when they upended themselves from the soil. A part of him still suspected a capacity for intelligent conversation within the precise way the flowers waltzed around each other, but he needed more time to observe before he could pull any assumptions.
(The silly comparison that tickled his mind was of the dancing broomsticks in that old children’s cartoon about the mouse and the magician.)
Overall it was an illuminating and magical experience, pun entirely intended. The discovery of this species was also exactly what he needed to keep his morale up and his curiosity burning.
Since arriving here in Gravity Falls two months ago, not enough mystery had knocked at his doorstep. Sure, there was that massive tree ent that utterly demolished his car on his first day in town- “Steve,” as he affectionately called him- but past that incident, the woods remained suspiciously silent. Day after day he trekked under the evergreens’ thick boughs and returned with not even a page of notes. He swore the forest was messing with him… flashing shadows on underbrush when his back was turned, all its creatures falling silent when he settled in a clearing to wait and observe. He almost wondered if- if whatever weird creatures that lived in the woods were studying him. Perhaps they were probing for weaknesses, or determining whether they found him to be a threat. Conducting their own research on humanity in parallel to his…
If there was one thing he knew for certain the forest was teeming with life, its heartbeat pulsing with a avid tempo. However, precisely when its denizens would accept his presence in their habitat and reveal themselves was knowledge he’d yet to glean.
Ford leaned close to his journal and blew over the pages, wanting the ink dry before he moved on to other business. Satisfied that it wouldn’t smudge, he gently closed the thick hardbound book and crossed into the kitchen. An orange tinted glow filtered through the window blinds, bathing the room in the sunset’s calming ambiance.
He swung open a cupboard, a sudden craving for a hearty soup gnawing at his stomach. Hunger clawed at his innards with a ferocity he hadn’t experienced since that one week in college he lived off nothing but stale tortillas and canned beans. Had he really not eaten since last night’s dinner again? Stanford sighed, running a hand through the hair behind his ear. Damn. That was a devilishly bad habit he’d better nip in the bud. He grabbed the first canned soup he saw and a small pot to cook it in. The young man had just turned on the stove when he heard something knock against the exterior of his house.
Ford stiffened, and shut everything off. Did… did he really hear what he thought he heard?
