It had been a few days since you had given Bill your trust. And he really did mean it when he said was gonna stick around. Then again, you were also scared to leave Bill alone with your shed. You didn't want him getting into stuff he shouldn't be getting into.

Though, admittedly, he was a big help when he wanted to be. Bill didn't seem to show any of the powers that he had shown you in your- what he called- "mind scape." Which seemed odd to you. However, you were willing to overlook that fact in favor of Bill's willingness to help you.

Bill was in your lab with you, scribbling equations on a piece of paper. He looked around and picked up a pair of rather steampunk-looking goggles and examined them for a moment. "Hey, (Y/N)!" Bill called. "Look over here!"

You glanced over from a flower you were testing a growth serum on. Bill smiled at you with the goggles on, making him look rather ridiculous. You laughed a little and rolled your eyes. "Cute," you responded.

Bill looked back down to the piece of paper he was scribbling on. You looked back to your flower. Which seemed to have died instantly from the single drop of serum. You got a funny feeling, looking at the brown, shriveled up carcass of what used to be something beautiful. It reminded you of your ex. He was once an amazing man, well, you thought he was. He gave you flowers every week just out of the blue. He seemed to enjoy your company. He would also watch (favorite movie) with you all the time, especially when you were feeling low with the Oregon Sickness (I don't know if this is a term or not. So don't go searching it up .3.)

Oh, the Oregon Sickness. You had almost forgot about it! It was pretty deep into winter, but the days had been mostly clear lately so there was plenty of sunshine to go around.

"What's the Oregon Sickness?" Bill asked curiously, walking over.

You jumped a little, forgetting about the one thing Bill seemed to do outside of the mind scape; read minds. "The Oregon Sickness? Well... It's not a real term. But the people around Zigzag and Government Camp and the likes know about it. It's like a version of cabin fever, but instead of getting jittery from being inside forever, you get kind of depressed due to the lack of sunlight and Vitamin D during the winter," you answered, absent-mindedly scribbling a little diagram on the nearby whiteboard.

"How do you get depressed from no sunlight? Where I come from, there isn't even a sun. There's no need for it. And I'm still as chipper as ever!" Bill said, gaining a boyish and innocent tone to his voice. "Besides, it's been sunny for forever."

"Vitamin D deficiency. Sunlight provides the majority of Vitamin D if you're not taking pills or eating oranges every minute of the day. Vitamin D sorta... keeps you happy, I guess. I didn't pay much attention to human biology in high school. But vitamin D deficiency isn't really all that horrible, but sometimes people get it so bad they turn yellow."

"Yellow's a nice color."

"Not when your skin is supposed to be various pigments of pink and brown. Or you're really pale."

Suddenly your phone buzzed in your pocket, playing a long, obnoxious beep. You pulled it of of your back pocket, and flipped it around. You opened it with your thumb print and looked at the notification that had awoken the sleeping device.

"ALERT: LARGEST SNOW STORM IN RECORDED OREGON HISTORY HEADING FOR ELEVATIONS ABOVE 1,000 FEET. REMAIN INSIDE. IF YOU ARE OUTSIDE, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. WATER PIPES MAY FREEZE. POWER MAY GO OUT. THOSE WITH ELECTRICITY GENERATORS MUST BE CAREFUL. GAS USE MAY BE RESTRICTED FOR THE PREDICTED WEEK-LONG SNOW STORM," the robotic voice rang through the bluetooth speakers set up around the lab. As soon as the alert had ended, a deafening silence settled thickly into the lab's atmosphere. Not a word was spoken as you processed what was said by the robotic voice.

Suddenly, the door was torn from its closed position with a loud SLAM! that echoed through the lab. The winds howled outside, the doorframe whistled a high-pitched whine as air passed by it. The windows shook and shuddered violently. Papers flew around the room in some sickly elegant dance as they spiraled from wall to wall. The roof groaned and squeaked as the snow quickly began to pile up around the doorframe, moving into the room.

You stood silently.

Memories of the past flew through your mind. The TV alert sounded. It brought you and your father into the house from the garage, where you both were working on a machine set to move indefinitely- a perpetual motion machine. It was sure to impress your fifth grade teachers in the science fair.

"THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. TYPHOON APPROACHING THE TILLAMOOK-SEASIDE COAST LINE OF OREGON. SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. POWER WILL MOST LIKELY BE DOWN. GAS PIPES WILL BE SHUT OFF. THIS IS NOT A DRILL," and as quickly as the alert sounded, it shut off.

"(Y/N)! Go get yourself and your mother into the basement! I'm going to tape up the windows!" your father instructed.

"But dad-!" you exclaimed.

"No buts just do it!"

You nodded and ran to get your mother. After finding her taking a nap in your parents' room, you shook her awake and dragged her to the basement. "(Y/N)..." she mumbled groggily. "I can't play Disaster with you.... get your father..."

"I'm not playing Disaster! A typhoon is coming! Dad told me to come get you!" you yelled in a panic.

Your mother immediately perked up at the sound of your voice. "A typhoon?! Where's your father?!"

Unable to say anything more, you pointed up, indicating where he was in a general sense.

Your mother rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That man... he'd go down with the ants to be a hero if he could..." she muttered. "I'll go upstairs and get him."

Your mother began to walk up the stairs, but was stopped by a loud crashing sound.

The storm had hit.

Your mother ran back downstairs, pulling you into her grasp and the wind outside howled in agony. As if it were mourning. Bone chilling snaps sounded above you, as if the house were being torn in half. Loud, muffled thwumps made their presence known. You thought if it was rocks or hail.

After what seemed like days, the storm subsided. You ran out of your mother's grip and bolted up the stairs, throwing open the door with enough force to tear it off of its hinges. You looked around. "Dad?!" you called. "Dad?! Daddy?! DAD!?"

You scrambled around in the rubble, listening closely for a groan. A pained groan may have been painful for some to hear. Many people would much rather hear an "I'm okay!" than a groan.

But the silence... the silence you heard... the nothingness... that was far, far worse. You listened for the subtle sound of life. But nothing. Death loomed over you. You could imagine it all. A tall, cloaked figure. It walked past you, the skeletal face giving you a sympathetic look as it passed by. It pulled out its weapon. The scythe used to separate a soul from its body. The figure pushed away some rubble, revealing a bloody body in an impossible position. Death swooped down upon the man, pulling him free from the ties of life. The man's burden was lifted, Death's job was done. As Death passed by you, carrying the man's soul, something shimmered in front of your eyes.

You walked over to the pile of rubble. You pushed away some rubble and revealed the man... no, your father... beneath in a twisted position. Something shined in his shirt pocket. Slowly, as not to disturb the sleeping form of death, you reached into the shirt pocket and pulled out a quill with a small note attached. "For my daughter, one of the few human beings on this planet to truly understand me. Happy birthday."

Your birthday. Today was your birthday. He was going to give this to you. He was going to give you the quill his grandfather had given him.

"(Y/N)?!" your mother called. But in a... different voice. "(Y/N)! Wake up! Come on!"

You bolted awake, smacking your forehead into someone's face. "OW!" Bill shrieked, followed by his signature laugh. "Are you okay?"

You looked around. "Wh-where am I...?" you asked, confusion spreading through you.

"Back in your house. As soon as the speakers turned off you just... shut down. You weren't responding to anything. I even gave you a couple of bruises and you still didn't say anything!" Bill exclaimed.

You looked at your arms, which seemed to have been punched multiple times. You winced.

"What even happened to you? Why'd you turn off like that?"

Your father's corpse flashed through your mind. You looked down, "N-no reason... I just got... scared..."

Bill sighed, "Well... you should get some rest. I'll start doing stuff that needs to be done."

"Y-you sure...?" you asked quietly.

Bill nodded. "Yes. I'll do this."

You lay back down on the bed, curling up under a blanket. You fell asleep rather quickly for having just woken up from a nightmare.

A/N: Sorry once again for the long wait. But this storm at my house just gave me the perfect inspiration! I hope you enjoy this and have a good day!