Books Gravity Falls Journal 1 Novels & Stories

His scent still lingers on it which makes my heart beat faster, it feels like he is here with me. I let my fingers run along the edges of his table, touching everything that once belonged to him. A journal sticking out of his cabinet catches my attention and I pick it up. It’s black and leather bound, just like Don. A voice at the back of my head warns me to keep it back but I don’t listen. The first page is blank, not even his name written on it. I keep turning the pages until I see his first entry. It’s on my supposed death anniversary.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle another yawn. Despite being incredibly tired, I decide to jot down the recent events in my personal journal, my confidant that I made myself. The design is beautiful, the cover is a velvety hardcover with an image of a butterfly, in gradient colors of pink, blue, and yellow. The journal is completely covered, giving it the appearance of a small bag with a zipper. I end up falling asleep, and as I shift to my side, the journal slips from my lap.

Placing the journal back on the desk, I picked up the one placed beside it. It was a rather peculiar one. It's cover felt as if it was made of tree roots as there was green moss on them. I opened it as my eyes scanned the contents. My soul felt a strange connection to the journal. The handwriting was so similar to mine. I didn't realize but a smile had made its way to my face as I flipped the pages of the journal without reading. But, then my eyes stopped at that one page as the journal dropped from my hand and fell to the floor.

The "Chronological-Borehole" didn't collapse with a bang; it dissolved into the sound of Rain on Asphalt. Avery Vane-Thorne opened her eyes and felt something she hadn't felt in fifty years: Weight. Not the "Basalt-Weight" of the Earth's core or the "Gold-Weight" of the Vanguard, but the simple, heavy pull of a 2024 gravity on a 2024 body. She was standing on a balcony in Geneva, the air smelling of ozone and expensive coffee instead of "Amethyst-Spores."

Sometimes the library was four people in a room all working in the same quiet, which was a different thing from loneliness and the opposite of it. One Sunday morning Edmund looked up from the floor and said: "Dad. Why do things fall down instead of up?" “Gravity," I said. “Yes, but why does gravity go down?" he said. “It goes toward mass," I said. "The Earth is very heavy. Gravity pulls toward it." He considered this. "So if there was something heavier than the Earth above us things would fall up?" “In theory," I said. He wrote something in his notebook. Eleanor looked up from her desk. "That is not practically achievable in our current situation," she said.

The weight of three years of being unwanted? I turned away from the closet. My eyes landed on something else. A small writing desk in the corner, pushed against the wall like an afterthought. On it sat a lamp, a pen holder, and a leather-bound journal. My heart skipped. I walked toward it. Dax didn't stop me. The journal was old. The leather was cracked, the pages yellowed at the edges. I picked it up. It was heavy. Not from weight—from words. "Whose is this?" I asked.

My body dropped instantly, just like a kite that had lost its string. The wind screamed in my ears as I fell. Faintly, I could still hear the manic laughter coming from the twelfth floor. The overwhelming weightlessness wiped out every thought in my mind. Then, my body crashed into the ground with a violent impact. It felt like every bone in me shattered at once. Pain shot through me like sharp knives, spreading from my right leg throughout my entire body. I could feel the bone in my right leg break. The agony was so intense that I couldn’t stop myself from groaning. Sweat and tears poured out uncontrollably, soaking my clothes in seconds.

It’s heavier than I expect. When I open it, my heart nearly stops. Inside are scraps of paper, folded notes, and a journal with a worn black cover. The sight of it alone brings tears to my eyes. Jaden’s handwriting covers the pages, messy, uneven, sometimes smudged as if from tears. I press my palm against the book, my throat tightening. I whisper into the stillness, “Oh, Jaden…” I sit on the edge of his bed and open the journal. The words hit me like waves. Some pages are filled with anger, sharp strokes of the pen carving out his frustration.

Back then, there was no pain, no heartbreak, no grief… just pure, simple happiness. Suddenly, I realized I could no longer feel the rain hitting my body, even though it was still pouring down. I looked up and saw a black umbrella shielding me from the downpour. I turned around to see who was holding it. Standing there was a man dressed entirely in black. I stared into his eyes—deep, coal-black eyes that looked dull and lifeless. He stared back at me just as intensely. There was something mesmerizing about them, like a black diamond that held a strange kind of beauty despite its dullness.

This Left no blind spots for pollution to hide in, the mana usually went towards the nearest one, At sunset, Ari and her parents stood on a balcony at the top of the magic tower. Her papa had just turned on his new magic tower system and she could see snow falling down and covering the forests and grasslands below. Cheers burst out on the lower floors of the magic tower. The recruits were looking out the mana glass windows at the falling snowflakes with excitement in their eyes. They were all proud of what they accomplished, reinforcing their excitement in being a part of something bigger than themselves.