The cicadas chirped their familiar summer song, as a young man lay in the grass, an old, beat-up banjo and a backpack lying beside him, looking up at the sunset above. Most of the darkening sky was obscured by a few towering pine trees, only leaving a sliver of it visible. However, that didn't change the fact that it looked truly fantastic. And yet, Fiddleford couldn't really see the appeal.
It had been four days into his independent field study, and he hadn't found a single thing his fellow researcher would call "noteworthy". As of late, Stanford had been extremely picky with the remarkable and not. And after exploring a vast expanse of the Gravity Falls wilderness, Fiddleford McGucket...had found nothing. It was as if all supernatural activity had vanished into thin air.
"Guess I should be getting back by now..." He mumbled, sitting up on the grass.
It was nice exploring the wild out on his own, but he had to go back to Stanford. He was probably worried sick about him. Fiddleford hoped that Ford actually got sleep, like he asked, he had a tendency not to. He also pondered over how frustrated his colleague was about to be when he came back empty-handed.
He stood up, brushing off any possible bugs or dirt. The sun had now fully dipped past the horizon, submerging Fiddleford into darkness. The silver light of the full moon bathed him, the only source of light in the thick forest.
He didn't think he was going to be out here for so long... the fact that he had to set camp somewhere for the night had completely slipped his mind. He reached down to pick up his banjo.
Wait.
...His banjo. It was gone. The spot on the grass where it was resting just mere seconds ago was empty. He looked around hastily, squinting in the dim light, trying to see anything.
"Ah gosh darn it, where-"
His fingers instinctively drummed against his leg, a nervous habit of his, as he kept trying to see anything in the pale, silvery light. It couldn't just disappear into thin air. Except...Except maybe...
He wasn't alone.
Snap.
The sound the twig breaking behind him shattered the silence, confirming his suspicions. Fiddleford froze. His fingers went limp beside him. He whirled around to the source of the sound.
Nothing but the darkness behind him. He felt a chill run up his spine. It felt like a million eyes were on him. Was he being watched? Was he just being delusional? Ford did always say he was "too paranoid for this line of work." All he could see was a smattering of some pine and birch trees, maybe some others. Nothing wrong... right?
He picked up his backpack cautiously, slinging it over his shoulder. If there actually was something out there, he at least had to find camp. Fiddleford sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for the long trek through the moonlit forest that awaited him.
To Fiddleford's surprise (and delight), the walk wasn't as long as he had expected. He had found some caves, not too far from the forest, and they seemed to be unoccupied. He took out some matches, striking one against the box, lighting it. He slowly treaded into the cave, a particularly spacious one, the small flame of his match flickering.
He had brought a flashlight along, but halfway into his expedition, the batteries had died, and the replacement ones vanished without a trace. Ford had told him to bring a lantern, but he hadn't listened. Fiddleford felt a pang of regret as he wandered deeper into the cave.
"What kind of assistant am I if I can't even follow some simple advice? "Oh, relax Stanford, I'll be fine." How stupid. I should've listened."
F was so lost in his own rambling and complaining, he didn't even notice the dead end of the cave until it was too late, ramming into the cave wall. He fell backwards, dropping his match, the flame going out. Clutching his head and hissing in pain, he adjusted his now askew spectacles. He hoisted himself up from the cold, limestone floor of the cave, feeling around for the matches, and striking a new one.
Yep, it was a dead end. Just a wall...with...drawings on it? He moved closer, inspecting it. A mural. Dozens of human-like figures, bowing to...a triangle shaped deity, with one eye?
"What the devil?" Fiddleford says softly running his fingers over the ancient art. This could be important, hell, maybe even the thing him and Ford were looking for. But a triangle? That seemed absurd, even for a town full of weirdness.
Under the faded drawings, there was a worn-out inscription carved out into the limestone wall.
"There is a being of knowledge and power who watches over this land. Although it may seem helpful at first, beware its tricks. It will try to deceive you to get what it wants. Do not summon it at all costs."
A being of knowledge? This could be the very thing that they were missing! But...it could be dangerous. It said so right there. Fiddleford wasn't an idiot, sure, but he and Stanford still needed that information to progress. To do...anything. He felt around the wall, his hands stumbling upon more text engraved into the limestone. He brought up a new match to it.
"To summon, chant this incantation three times. When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye."
F took a deep breath. There were infinitely many risks. So many things that could go wrong. What if this supposed "creature" really could bring along some unprecedented chaos or hazard?
No. He had to do this. He was being paranoid again, the very thing Stanford hated.
For Stanford. For me.
"When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye. When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye. When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, FEAR THE BEAST WITH JUST ONE EYE!"
He finished, his voice echoing throughout the cave. He braced for anything, anything at all.
...
Nothing.
"This is so dumb. 'Course nothing happened. It's just some myth...there's no easy path to knowledge, and the damn world is rubbing it into mine and Stanford's face." he seethes, pacing around the cave. He extinguishes the match, just like his hopes.
Tomorrow, he would go back to Ford's cabin. And face Ford's disappointment in him. What a waste of a lab partner...
Fiddleford frustratedly takes out his sleeping bag, rolling it out on the cold, rock-hard ground. Climbing into it, he glares at the mural and incantation one last time, unable to see it clearly in the dark.
He didn't need to. The whole thing was pointless.
Hope was lost.
YOU ARE READING
The Triangle's Deception...
FanfictionStanford Pines and his assistant, Fiddleford McGucket, have hit a roadblock in their research of the mysterious town of Gravity Falls. The situation seems to be hopeless...until Fiddleford discovers a mysterious, yet helpful, entity. However, does...