Zombie Falls (A Gravity Falls Fan Fic)

Waddles

My shaky breath, alongside with the grandfather clock by the staircase, was all that was heard. I didn't get any sleep last night. All I could do was lay down on my back and stare up at the ceiling. I hadn't even gotten out of bed. Lucky for Mabel, she had enough energy to make it all the way downstairs unlike me.

I kept my knees close to my chest and wrapped them with my arms so tight that I was squeezing myself. I curled up and turned on my side, not wanting to even move anymore.

Heck, it was even a massive battle to lift my head off of the pillow this morning. I couldn't tell if I was still exhausted or my lack of carelessness to be energetic but I couldn't do anything. Trying to brush off the feeling of high sensitivity was like trying to forget about the nightmare. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't do anything.

The demons at my ankles were getting more and more difficult to ignore. They would claw and cling to me with their nails deep in my skin, injecting me with their poisonous venom. With them hanging onto me like parasites, I could hardly walk. It was their screams that made me vulnerable to feeling like this everyday. Maybe one day I'll finally shut them up.

For the whole day, Ford had neglected me. It was Stan that was hard to shake off. He wouldn't leave my side. He smothered me, giving me blankets and letting me rest on the couch with a collection of dusty and old comics he used to read as a kid. Hardly anything interesting happens around here so the highlight of my day was getting a bunch of dumb comics to read.

The only thing that proved me wrong was when I heard a ruckus from the gift shop’s door. Getting up and leaving the comfort of the couch, I decided to investigate for myself. Surprisingly, I wasn't the only one to hear it. Ford had already reloaded his shotgun with a strong two clicks. Stan and Ford stood in front of the front door to the gift shop, wondering what was on the other side.

It sounded as if something was scratching at the door nonstop. The noise of squealing was muffled from the porch.

“What’s going on?” My sister questioned from by my side.

“It can't be an infected person. It sounds too frantic.” Ford claimed. By the looks of it, he was eager to shoot something down. “Open the door.” He ordered to his brother, Stan. He motioned with his gun to Stan and then the door. Stan did as Ford had instructed. Unlatching off all of the nailed boards, he paused before opening the door.

When he finally brought up the courage to do so, a filthy pink blob came waddling in frightfully. Its four feet clattered on the wooden floor with strength as it flew past all of us and headed to the tight corner of the room. It didn't stop squealing until it had reached a safe spot, huddling into the corner with fear still shaking in its own body.

“Oh my gosh, Dipper!” Mabel exclaimed with hushed excitement, careful not to scare it. “It's a pig!”

“Oh, great. Just what we need.” Stan began with sarcasm. “A pig.”

Mabel was already attempting to approach the pig with a gentle hand reached out toward it. She sat next to the frightened farm animal and squatted. “It's okay.” She reassured it with a soothing tone of voice. “C’mere.”

It wasn't long until she earned the pig’s trust. The fat pink plump blob waddled over to her and sat in front of her. She let out a slight screech of joy and picked him up. “Did you see the way he waddled?!” She wailed.

It was then that she decided to name the pig Waddles.