The Things We Leave Behind (Gravity Falls Fic)

Chapter 26: She Dreamt Upon a Midnight Clear

#ChristmasSpecial #Swag #Hashtag #Yolo2014 #Twerk #ImSoSorryIDontKnowHowThisHappened

---

Saige's POV:

        I sighed in contentment, closing my book, then turned my attention to the clock by my bed. Holy cannoli, was it really midnight? I mean, I guess I did read to the end of On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness and then moved on to re-read Splintered. Both of those books are pretty long... I enjoyed every second of it, but sacred cow of India, how did it get so late without me noticing? I had spent the entire day avoiding my house guests, the craziness of my cabin, Bill and his riddles, and basically the daily natural order of disorder that is Gravity Falls.

        I placed Splintered back on the stack and leaned over to flick off my light. Asha was probably downstairs watching anime on Netflix or something, and who knows what the Ooolanders were doing. I contemplated on getting something to eat before going to sleep, as I hadn't had anything since... yesterday before the date, believe it or not. I begin to realize how hungry I actually was. Alright, a quick bowl of bachelor pad ramen, and then sleep.

A [quick] BOWL OF BACHELOR PAD RAMEN LATER...

        I swiftly changed into some clean pajamas and climbed into bed, clicking off the light, for good this time. I turned over, pulling the blankets up to my chin and closing my eyes. It was nice to finally have a day of peace for once. My last thought before I slipped into a sound slumber... 

        I bet that mac and cheese from Noodles and Company was twenty times better than that cheap bowl of bachelor pad ramen...

---

        I kneel down on the edge of a vast silver-hued pool. There was a sharp bank, a border, if you will, between the ground and the pool. It's as if the ground just drops away to make room for the shimmering liquid. There seemed to be no bottom to the pool. The water is clear and still, and the barren, dry land of sparse brown grass and few trees was a lot less desirable than the sea before me. The sun is bright above me, and it beats down on my back like a hammer of heat. More to escape from the sweltering temperatures of the bank than anything else, I leaned forward and slipped into the water.

        I kicked and floated and drifted through the sea, the only noise that of a music box in the background, its eerily peaceful song distorted and disturbed in the water around me.

        When I came back up, I reached my hand out. Pushing through the surface of the pool was like breaking through elastic glass. It was like it was brittle and shattered under my fingertips, but also sticky and somehow stretched before cracking. I pulled myself out of the water and sat on the bank for a few seconds.

        I close my eyes and take a breath.

        When I open them again, I'm standing in some sort of... Christmas town? Isn't it like... July?

        There was snow everywhere. I look down and saw that I was wearing a black coat and a fluffy red and white striped scarf. The buildings and shops of this village were decorated with wreaths and holly, colorful lights, mistletoe and tinsel, strings of glittering paper snowflakes, and deep green Christmas trees heavy with ornaments. The town was aglow with Christmas spirit. In July. Wait, isn't there a thing called Christmas in July? If there is, I've never participated. Where was I, anyway?

        I walked down the freshly-shoveled cobblestone streets, piles of snow on the curbs on either side of me. My feet clicked on the stone. I was approaching a giant Christmas tree. In front of it was a throne in silver and gold with red velvet seats. There was velvet cord roping off the area. It looked like a meet-and-greet Santa thing you would see at the mall. As I got closer, I noticed that there was, in fact, a Santa Clause sitting in the throne. I walked to the side to get a better look. Lo and behold, in a cheap Santa costume, Stan Pines was posing as a popular Christmas figure to con kids and their families.