Amelia -2016

Amelia, a short stocky woman in her early forties, stumbled along the road, her dark brown hair stringy and obscuring her face as she kept her eyes on her phone. The moonlight reflected the glass bottle of Bob Gray beer she clutched as she madly texted her friend Jennifer. She was wearing a red and white striped sweater a few sizes too big, the edges falling over her fingers as she typed and ripped jeans. Both stained with some unidentified substance. Jennifer had left the party early and was pissed off with her. Apologies would need to be made the next day, no doubt. Since being all over your friend's boyfriend wasn't acceptable behavior. But hey, she was wasted. Jennifer had to know at this point Amelia was unpredictable when intoxicated.

'Fuck u.' was the last exchange from Jennifer.

Amelia kicks a tin can out of her path with her red heel, observing her surroundings. She was coherent enough to see where she was now; on Neibolt Street.

Aw, yes. The haunted street.

At least that's what they say. They being the good townsfolk of Derry. Boring ol' Derry. Boring until you scratch the surface. The myths surrounding the dilapidated old house that loomed over the neighborhood like a bad smell had been around since at least the 1700s. The well house, it was called. Her parents, who had been cultists, had told her the tales. They had been obsessed with the place. Along with a strange church with oddly angular architecture that had been built not far away.

The one with that fairy door that lead down into the sewers.

After they had suddenly decided to leave the town and took her, moving clear across the country, there had been no more mention of the house or the church. After they both passed, she'd returned to live with the her mother's parents. Although when they were still alive, they had been against her returning to the sleepy little town. But, no other relatives were around, all dead or moved to unknown locations.

The only other option was to come to come back to Derry.

It had been an adjustment. She didn't know them. At all. But they had been so kind, she wondered why her mother had cut herself off from them. Personality differences maybe. But she was happy, even if their house had reeked of moth balls and they listened to old jazz records. John Coltrane and Miles Davis being their favorites.

Making friends had been even harder. Her friendship with Jennifer was strained at best. They's been best friends since high school, they were bonded. Both had had cultists for parents, and there was an understanding between them. Nobody else really understood what they had gone through.

Of course, this latest stunt at the party would need patching over.

She came to a stop in front of the well house's old wrought iron fence. Sunflowers spurted out of the ground around the place, giving it the only touch of lightness in a blanket of rotting wood and grass clearly starved for water. She cocked her head at the door. She had heard, from only a select few, mainly other children of cult members that there was a clown. A clown that was sometimes seen at Neibolt. Always seen at times of disaster, kind of like mothman.

An idea occurred to her, a completely insane idea. She was buzzed and feeling a little reckless.

Fuck it. Let's see if it's true.

She marches towards the front door, tossing aside her bottle of booze. It hits the ground with a clink as she stands before the door. Charily, she reaches for the knob and turns it, the aged metal squeaking.

Let's find out what's here. I'm not afraid of some clown.

She makes her way inside, hitting the flashlight app on her phone. When the light flickers on, she sees the inside matched the out; creepy as Hell. Spiderwebs spread throughout every crevice, a fireplace emblazoned with 'Good Friends, Good Cheer' and the creaky old staircase leading up to the second floor. Dare she walk up them? They don't look stable. The place also had a weird odor, musty mixed with dirt and leaves. She lets out a sharp yelp as she spots an abnormally large spider crawling along the railing.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she starts. "If there is something in this house. A spirit...or whatever….what the fuck ever..." she declares, pausing to cough into her forearm. "Hey, come out. Come on man. I wanna know if you're real." she slurs.

Fuck this is stupid. What am I doing?

Bam!

"What the Hell?" she jumps up, almost falling over as she untangles her legs. "What is that?"

"Helloooo Amelia." came a deep voice from nowhere.

Her mouth gapes, her breath visible as a cold chill envelopes her. It was a hot summer night, such a thing shouldn't happen. She fumbles with the light on her phone. "Oh, God, oh God,"

"Your God can't help." came that same disembodied voice. Mocking, menacing.

"Wha-" Her eyes darted around the room. "Who's there? Who are you?"

"You knoooow."

Her flashlight now goes out completely. "No!" she yells, as she manages to flick it on again. Just as she did, she saw it, the light illuminating the features of a clown. Standing right across from her. A neutral look on his face.

Amelia stumbles back, terror creeping through her bones."W-Who…" she stutters. Just then, her light goes out again, with a shake of her phone it's shining once more. Lifting it up to where the clown was standing, she lets out a scream.

No clown, this time, instead her father.

A man who was dead and buried was standing before her.

He's holding up a bloodied knife, pieces of skin falling off his face, a maniacal grin stretching across his features.

"Milly, don't scream! Don't you wanna play?" he laughs, charging at her, knife waving. She backs up shrieking, trying to dodge the blade. Just then, she feels hands grab her from behind. Cold, callused hands. She whirls around and sees her mother, only she's looking like she did the last time she'd seen her; in her casket, same soft pink dress with the white pearls. Others proceed to come out of the various dark corners of the room, familiar faces from a past long ago, both adult and children alike. Zombies, with dead listless eyes and pale gray skin. Their moans drowning out Amelia's hysterical screaming.

She dashes for the door, only to see it's blocked by more of them, swaying, limping, reaching out for her and grasping her sweater.

Tying her down to a table with old ropes, they stand circling her as tears stream down her cheeks, dripping onto the tabletop as she turns her head in the direction of a figure, much taller than the others, his abnormally large head topped with blazing orange locks.

The clown again. He stands silent, his yellow-red eyes boring through her. "Amelia," his voice is rasping. "Welcome. You wanted to see me. Here I am," he gives a little chuckle. "You weren't expecting it, were you?"

Amelia shakes her head languidly, the clown becoming a blur through her stinging watering eyes. "No, no, no…" she wails, as she squirms, gaining her composure long enough to focus her gaze on the clown. He smiles as if sensing her emotions. She closes her eyes, hoping this is a nightmare that will end. However, when she opens them...

It's Jennifer. Standing there, giving a disgusted head shake. "You treat your friends like shit. Or rather friend. I have been nothing but good to you."

Amelia sucks in her lips, holding back a sob. "I'm sorry."

And in the blink of an eye, the clown is back."Beautiful fear…" he whispers as he calmly watches as his minions tear her to shreds, her screams cut off as her mother tears into her neck.

It feasts. The girl's terror had flavored her flesh delectably. The best It had had in a long time. Truth is, It had seen her passing by, and had influenced her to come to the house. It recognized her as one of the Offerings; children sacrificed to It by the human cultists who viewed It as a God. Aware of Its presence, the'd built a church in honor of It and regularly sent children down to their deaths. However, this girl's parents balked at her being chosen to be sacrificed and had instead fled from town.

But now It has claimed what It was promised.

The fact that so many, however, were willing to offer up their own offspring was amusing to It. Humans had a thirst for both power and answers to the unknown. That usually lead to their own demise. Their feeble minds would be unable to comprehend what lies beyond. One of the reasons that Its natural form left them either dead, or completely mad.

As It ate, It hears tiny 'pinging' sounds. It stands and approaches a light in the center of the room, the bells of Its suit jingling. It's the girl's phone. Its golden eyes scanning the incoming texts from the one named Jennifer.

'Where r u?' I'm worried.'

Pennywise, mouth smeared with blood, grins as It types a response.

'at neibolt. come and get me.'