Book of Billford

Observer

   "Uh, Ford?" A hoarse voice called from the doorway of the boat cuddy, his brother looking up from his mess of papers and ink.
   "How's it goin'?"
   "You know the answer to that, Stanley. Nowhere. It's going nowhere." Ford ran a six fingered hand through his mullet that was contrary to Stan's hair. Despite them residing in the ocean for a few months with no access to a barbershop, Stan has refused to let his hair grow to a mullet. They'd had a heart to heart where Stan had confided that it reminds him of his all time low, something he knew was hard to admit for a guy like him.
   "Then, what's the plan? We can't just turn around now, this is what I've been waiting for!"
   "I'm sorry, Stanley. But look at this!" Ford referred to the scattered trash on the desk in front of him, pushing his chair back and standing up.
   "Giant monsters with no found origin, of all different species, of all different continents! I'm not finding a connection!"

   The twins fell into a sullen silence. Ford hated dead ends, if he couldn't dig himself out of a scientific ditch like this, if he was reaching the limits of his mind.. his mind. Finally, the first lightbulb that he's lit since he's sat at the desk. No, how immature. He's older now, wiser, he could never make that mistake again.
   "I'll be on the deck..corn beef for dinner again! Don't miss out." Stan pathetically joked, heading up and leaving Ford in his own thoughts. His stupid, ridiculous, utterly irresponsible thoughts. He'd watch that.. thing.. turn the sky into a ripped seam, vomiting weirdness!

"What's wrong Sixer? Don't you know you can't work on an empty stomach?"
Ford jumped from his stance, his eyes frantically scanning the room as he backed himself against the wall. No, how could he? Did he manifest it? Dream it? Hallucinate it??
"Don't act so unhappy to see me again."
It can't be.. he recognizes that voice. The voice that haunts him in his dreams, the voice that yelps a crooked laugh.. one that echoes through his mind.
"Ford? What's all the noise about?" Stan called from the deck, snapping his brother back into reality.. if it wasn't before.

"Oh- Nothing! I'm fine!.." he reassured, though he wasn't so assured himself. He pushed his frames up on the bridge of his nose, they tend to slip down when he sweats. Was he sweating? He stripped his trench coat off and let the sea breeze hit him, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"I must be going crazy again.. I just need to sleep." He muttered to himself, pitifully crawling to the bed in cold sweats and tugging the blanket over him.. shuddering himself to sleep.

Ford shot up from his bunk with a gasp, promptly slamming his head again the ceiling of his bunk. He groaned in pain as he slowly slumped back against his pillow, holding his red forehead.
Luckily, he didn't wake up Stanley as was evident of his dreadful snoring. But this.. this was impossible. They defeated him! They defeated him in the most solid way they knew how, in the most solid way that was perhaps possible! They caught him in his weak spot, where he was vulnerable.
Ford scurried up to the deck for some fresh air, letting the morning sun hit him. It was a nice refresher from the dark bunk he'd been stumped in for the past few days. He stretched as the wind blew his hair back, craving his back and letting out a groan. Hunching over a desk for hours will do this to you. But throughout all this, he couldn't shake the feeling there were eyes on him. Or rather.. eye on him. He'd brought up this sentiment to Stan before, very early on in there trip, but was always shut down with something about him just being paranoid. And for a while, Ford bought it. It was natural for his thoughts and dreams to be haunted by Bill for months, even years after these things happen.
"You're up early Poindexter." Stan muttered from behind him, climbing up the rickety steps.
"Stanley!.. it's just you." Ford let out a sigh of relief as he attempted to settle his pounding heart, to no avail.
"Of course it's just me, what's up with you?" He raised an eyebrow, Ford sitting down by the edge of the boat and Stan following suit.

"It's.. Bill."
"This again? I told you, we deleted him! Get your mind out of the gutter!"
"No, you don't understand! It might have been paranoia at first, but it's more than that now. He's watching me. Of all the times I've faced him, I know how it feels when he's observing us!" He raised his hands to his hair in peril.
"Even if he's watching us, What do you want us to do about it?!" Stan exclaimed, referring to large ocean surrounding them. Ford sat in silence, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He stood from the edge of the boat and returned to the cuddy, leaving his brother in the thick tension of the deck. While he sat at his desk, he watched the pages of the new journal in front of him. His eyes squinted, scrutinizing the content of the pages. Useless collections of monsters, not amounting to anything bigger.
"So bigger is what you want?" The pages of the journal began to frantically flap and flip, slamming the book shut. The brown cabin cuddy around him had turned monochromatic grey, he knew this. Time had stopped. He knew what this was.

"So you have been watching me." Ford grumbled,
"Smart as always Sixer! Glad to see you haven't forgotten how I make you feel!" Bill let out a maniacal laugh. So this is how it begins.. again.