Chapter Text
Ah, the sweet, lovely summer sky. Perfectly blue in color, peacefully meshing into a brilliant orange. Even the world’s best artists and their paintings wouldn’t stand a chance against this sight.
There’s no doubt about it, the sunset was magnificent. No. Extraordinary. The people say that the sunsets here are the ninth wonders of the natural world. There’s no spectacle quite like it, and that’s an odd thing to say, considering this scene is from the perspective of the fifteenth-biggest city in Oregon.
A sleepy little city called Gravity Falls, Oregon. Tucked away between a valley of mighty pine trees, masking the bare forest floor. A beautiful sea of green, perfectly complimenting the oranges and blues of the sky. Fluffy, white clouds float in the sky, looking almost like popcorn.
Birds fly close in proximity, enjoying a firsthand experience of the skyline in its majestic magnificence. However, those aren’t normal birds flying over the small city, as Gravity Falls boasts the only region in the world with chickens capable of flight. Yes, chickens that can fly.
Most of the townsfolk have egg insurance, for… obvious reasons.
The chickens cooed, almost like pigeons, silently bucking as they traverse their journey. A strange, but peaceful journey.
The peaceful journey would soon come to an end, as Gravity Falls is just as chaotic as it is breathtaking.
Something, or someone fell down from the stratosphere, missing the chicken flock by mere inches. Behind whatever it was, it left behind a thin, black trail of smoke, as if it was, or still is, on fire.
The chickens obviously stopped their course and hovered for a few seconds, analyzing what just happened in front of their noses, or beaks for that matter. Each of them had come to the same conclusion in their tiny little chicken brains.
What the cluck?
Then, just as fast as that thought entered their minds, it left them, and they continued on their way, flying around the thin jet of smoke that left the trail of whatever that was.
The chickens were used to it, just like every other creature in Gravity Falls Oregon. A strange occurrence like that happened daily, to the point that it wasn’t strange. They didn’t know any better.
Not a thought traced those chickens’ heads about the projectile. Why should they? They’re not capable of logical reasoning. They barely have enough mental capacity to make chicken-related quips to situations, even if those thoughts weren’t shared with the others.
What was that projectile anyway? Was it some sort of meteorite? Debris from spacecraft? Was it another larger (and probably cooked) bird making a dramatic descent?
No. It was none of these things. It was a…
No way.
Is that… a human? On fire ? Falling down towards the unforgiving ground? How did it even get this high off the ground?
Now that’s a sight you don’t see every day, even in Gravity Falls, Oregon.
This mysterious person, previously motionless, suddenly started flailing around, like a dog that is sneezing while getting its tummy rubbed. A humorous, but equally grim sight.
The human finally spoke after a few more seconds of free falling. It was a scream of terror, filled to the brim with voice cracks, horror, and insecurity. An adolescent male. That much is certain.
Soon enough the smoke emanating from the boy dies down, his only accomplice leaving him in a black wisp.
As the boy falls closer to the ground, the screaming, the shrieking , only gets louder. In this predicament, there is almost no shame in doing that.
Almost.
In one last stitch effort, the boy crossed his arms in front of his face, making some sort of attempt at protecting it, despite the action itself being futile.
A loud THUMP echoed in the dense forest, a decently sized crater left in the boy’s wake. The dust eventually settles, the boy unfortunately returns to motionlessness again, as the forest returns to peace.
Or at least the forest returns to the closest thing possible to peace, as this is no ordinary forest, just like this is no ordinary place.
This is Gravity Falls, Oregon, a place where the abnormal is normal.
As dangerous as it is scenic, and just as chaotic as it is breathtaking.