I.
It © Stephen King
It: Chapter One and Chapter Two © Andres Muschietti
Demon in the Deadlights© Hurlstien
EDIT: I've merged the two chapters into one as they were both pretty short. And I've combed through and tweaked a couple of things here and there. Just thought I'd let people know so there's no confusion! [12/10/19]
A/N: so I think I'm in love with Bill Skarsgård…
In other news; this fic is not to be taken seriously. I'm writing this purely for my own amusement and general skill building. But if people enjoy it, then all the better. I thought it would be a fun challenge to see how badly I can pull off a romance with an evil clown alien that eats worlds and kills children. And also because Bill Skarsgård is hot, so… y'know. Guilty as charged.
I've been a fan of IT's story since I was seven when I first watched the film and it scared the crap out of me. I read the book at fifteen and loved it, and now IT has finally been remade, I'm freaking ecstatic! So I'll be incorporating info from all three films and the book, as well as from interviews with Bill Skarsgård and director Andres Muschietti, just to keep things as canon as possible. Personally I feel Pennywise is perfect the way It is without me trying to force any human attributes onto It, such as morals or emotion. So I'll be keeping that to a minimum as much as I can.
This fic will not be a long one, probably around 10-12 chapters.
With that said, enjoy!
WARNING: This story will include horror, violence and gore, possible sexual scenes and will explore dark themes… Oh! And swearing! Can't forget the swearing!
you woke me out of my secret grave
you let your pretty world in
CHAPTER ONE
Derry, April 2016.
"Help."
The tiny voice squeaked from between the trees. Its high pitched innocence interrupting the couple's convocation. Chatter that two people having met in a backstreet bar twenty minutes ago might talk about.
"Hey," the man tugged at her arm, "H-Hey, c'mon, its really a kid," he said, dragging her from the bridge and down into the shadows.
Nicole had forgotten his name already and his beer breath was giving her a headache. But with a roll of her eyes, she followed him into the forest. The crunch of undergrowth shivered after them, along with the lazy ripple of the river to their right. A river that led down to the Barrens, an overgrown wilderness of trees clogged with bogs and weeds.
"Help." It squeaked again.
"Hey!" The man- she thought his name was Darren, called as he continued to follow the voice. "Hey, lil'kid? I got some sweets-" he sang and patted his jacket pocket. "Oh… well I- I did anyways."
"You ate them already," Nicole said, squinting into the darkness, "And most of them went on the floor." Caution rose in her gut and she fought to push it back down. She didn't know why any kid would be out here all alone. Not at night.
"Help."
This time, it was followed by a childish giggle and the hairs of Nicole's arms flared to attention. 'Something's not right.'
Stepping into a narrow clearing, the pair stopped.
"It came from here, didn't it?" Nicole whispered.
"Lil' kid!" Darren called. "Where the Hells'e gone, huh?" He asked as he stumbled then righted himself using Nicole's shoulder.
With a frown she watched him, before rolling her eyes, regret gnawing at her stomach. She turned away and let her gaze flicker through the trees for any sign of movement.
"C'mon kid, jus' come out already- … Hey, whats…?" Darren's drunken slur faded. His arm rose to point at something ahead of them. "What's a freakin' clown doin' down here, man?"
Nicole sighed and turned back to him. "What?" But following his gaze, she swallowed and felt her heart skip. There, in the line of the trees, stood a clown, pom-poms and all. A bone white face and blood red smile sneered at them under the light of the moon and sent goosebumps erupting up her arms. Her hair prickled on the back of her neck as she noticed his stooped figure and spaced out gaze.
"Aww man, I fuckin' hay-hate clownies," Darren said, hiccuped, then staggered past Nicole. She glanced after him as he went, her frown deepening. "I gotta… Gotta go shake the snay-snakie, boy," he said, before disappearing between the trunks.
Moments passed as the girl and the clown watched each other, neither moving. But a yell and a splash broke the silence coming from the path Darren had stumbled. Nicole blinked and sighed, but otherwise didn't react as her attention remained fixed on the weird-o spacing out in a clown costume.
"Dude, seriously?" She spread her hands, green eyes flashing. "I'm sure you're havin' a great time out here, high as shit, but geez, way to kill the mood."
From between the trees, the clown's golden eyes focused on her. A mad glower half covered in shadow. His mouth quivered, an unnatural smile splitting his face. It grew wider and wider, before a low growl rumbled across the space between them. A gloved finger rose from the shadows and shook at her.
"You owe me… a meal."
His voice was rough but childish, like an eight-year-old on forty a day.
Nicole huffed a smile and shook her head as she lit up a smoke. "Look," she took a drag and puffed. "Burger King's still open, but I ain't giving you no mon-"
She froze. A heavy pulse rippled through the air and violent goosebumps erupted across her flesh. Her hair trembled at the horrifying power that throbbed through her bones and her heart thundered against her ribs. The cigarette dropped from her lips as unbridled adrenaline flooded her veins. The clown's smile was gone, replaced with a deep frown, eyes glowing bright pumpkin in the dark.
She couldn't move. She couldn't think. She couldn't even breathe.
A high pitched chuckle pierced the air, before dropping into a guttural growl. The clown's face drooped into an exaggerated snarl, then with a POP he was gone. Like his body had burst out of existence.
Feeling the weight vanish from her chest, Nicole sucked in lungfuls of air. Her knees trembled and she fell to the ground, head spinning. She felt as though she'd just finished a marathon, only there was no runner's high, just a horrid, clenching of nerves. She knew what that pop was, what it meant; it was the sound of air rushing in to fill a vacated space, which meant what she'd seen had been real. All too real.
Dragging a hand through sweat dampened hair, her eyes searched the spot where the clown had stood. Sweat beaded down her face, and when she wiped her lip she found blood smeared across the back of her hand.
"What the fuck was that?" She whispered.
She sat there in the dark, watching, listening, waiting. Only when she was sure the clown was gone, did she move. Pushing herself to a stand, she sniffed and wiped again at her nose, resigning to the fact that the night was over.
"Guess I'm going hungry, too..."
Montpelier, August 1981.
She hadn't seen the kid. Sat on his little trike in a striped top and red shorts, he was out of her line of sight. But when Nicole kicked the wheel, she heard him cry out and looked down. A chubby boy, no older than six, sat there. And the look on his face as he tried to stop his ice cream from toppling onto the side-walk tickled her and she laughed.
I should stop, this looks bad, she thought, and cleared her throat, the ghost of a smile still on her face as she knelt down. "Hey kid, sorry about that, I didn't see yuh-" She froze, staring into the boys face. "…Archie?"
Satisfied his ice-cream wasn't going anywhere, the boy shook his head at her. "Ben. My names Ben." His voice was quiet as he corrected her and she swallowed.
"Of course, Ben. Sorry," she said. "It's just… you look exactly like my baby brother, Archie."
The summer heat beat down on them as they remained frozen, staring at each other. All around them, people hurried about their business, many making a beeline for the park to relax in shade and enjoy the mini fair that had set up a week ago. No one seemed to notice the boy and the woman and Nicole vaguely wondered where the boy's parents were.
Breaking their staring contest, Ben frowned at her. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not."
"Yes you are," he said, and careful not to drop his melting treat, he reached out a pudgy hand and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
Upon contact, a jolt passed between them, like lightening. Nicole sucked in a breath. In her minds eye, an older Ben ran down the hallway of a school, chased by three of his peers. In his fear, the boy slipped and smacked the floor, and they fell upon him, like wolves to a kill, slapping him and laughing.
Oink! Oink!
Whatcha gunna do, piggy? Huh? Whatcha gunna do, y'fat fuck?
They howled with laughter as tears beaded down Ben's round cheeks. Their smacks echoed in her ears as they left fat welts across his skin. Then the memory skipped and they were gone. The face of an older man appeared and sneered down at the boy where he lay, helpless and alone. Lips curling back over yellowed teeth alongside heavy wrinkles and a receding hairline. The school coach.
Look at you. Fuckin' disgusting…
Her stomach burned as she blinked back to the present.
Ben snapped his hand back and stared at her, sensing something was wrong, but unsure what. "You okay, lady?"
She paused. "Yeah… I, uh, just remembered something, is all," she said and watched as he refocused his attention on his ice-cream; a Mr Whippy with strawberry and chocolate sauce, hundreds and thousands and a flake to boot. A smile twitched at her and she pointed to it. "What you got there?"
"Whippy, with all the trimmins," he said, white cream coating his lips.
"You like ice-cream, huh?"
"Uh-huh!" Ben nodded.
She smiled. "Me too."
"My dad used to get it me all the time, but he's with the army now."
Nicole's smile faltered. From his touch of her cheek, she knew the boys father would die. She felt the anger and sadness that would one day sour him. The frustration and loneliness. She knew the feeling. But he wouldn't know it himself for another three years.
"Ben? Benny?!"
The boy looked over his shoulder at the woman's call and Nicole followed his gaze, guessing the portly woman hurrying over to them to be his mother.
Ben looked back to the creamy snack, then to the woman and back again. "You want some?"
Nicole smiled. "That's okay, you eat it. I gotta go, anyway." She stood and ruffled his hair as he lapped up dribbles of cream before they splattered on his shorts. "Be good, Kid."
Derry, April 2016
'She doesn't know your name, and your heart beats like a subway train.'
The leather of the steering wheel was warm under Nicole's hands as she drummed her fingers on it, the Lorry providing the base as it hummed beneath her. She nodded her head along to the radio as her headlights lit up the sign that read: Derry, 2 miles.
"Almost there," she sighed.
The road rolled under her wheels, lit by her beams and the full moon. Trees lined the tarmac and sped past as she closed in on her final stop for the night. Red lines read 03:04 from the radio, but sleeping had never been her strong suit. The night shift was perfect. Ferrying goods to and from Derry and its surrounding neighbours suited her. No traffic and not a soul in sight to impede her journey. Just her, a radio and the eighteen-wheeler.
'Ooo, don't you wanna break her?'
Nicole batted the wheel in time with the beat, wiggling in her seat and feeling the music throb through her skin.
'Ooo, don't you wanna take her home?'
"Maria! You gotta see her!" She bellowed, tossing her head. The wind from the open window billowing her hair about the cabin. "Go in-sane and out of your m-AAHHHHH!"
She slammed on the brake. Her scream drowning in the screech of wheels. Upon impact the entire vehicle shuddered and rocked, and Nicole bounced around in her seat, the belt stopping her from being thrown around the cabin. The smell of burnt rubber wafted in through the window as she slowed down, let the vehicle roll forwards another meter or so, then stopped. The lorry heaved a sigh of relief. Her grip on the wheel was iron as she looked in the wing mirror to see nothing of the man who had lumbered into the road.
'Latina! Ave Ma-'
She smacked the radio off. Her heart thundered as she unclipped her seatbelt, refusing to address the fact that what she'd hit had looked an awful lot like her late father.
"There's no fucking way," she muttered, throwing open the door and jumping down into the road.
Walking the length of the vehicle, she scanned the tarmac with her phone's torch. Sweeping the beam back and forth, she found nothing. No blood. No body. Only black, smoking tyre tracks. Her frown deepened and standing by the rear of the truck she knelt down, casting light under the trailer. Still nothing.
"Maybe I missed him," she said.
But it felt like I hit a freaking bear or something… not a human.
Annoyance bubbling in her stomach, Nicole marched around to the front of the truck and threw her phones light onto the bonnet. Her heart sank; there was no damage at all… Her pulse picked up, breaths deepening as her brain wracked itself to find a rational explanation. Only then did she realise it was far too quiet. No chirping of crickets. No sighing of the wind. It was as though the very earth was holding its breath.
She turned, eyes searching the gloom for any semblance of life, but she came up empty. Stood in the blinding light of her truck, she was alone on that dark stretch of highway. And though she'd tried her best to ignore it, her nape hairs had been stood stiffly on end ever since she opened the cabin door.
Uneasy frown never leaving her face, Nicole turned back to the truck and climbed in. Switching on the engine she let its steady rumble calm her and sighed, running a palm down her face.
"Hey there, Nicky."
With a sharp breath, her eyes snapped open to see a white, grinning face in the reflection of the windscreen. A hot hand gripped her throat and she froze. Her eyes followed the reflection of the arm as it curled around the seat and into the dark behind her. Claws found her jugular and with every beat seemed to dig deeper. Her lips thinned and jaw set.
"You…" It growled and from the back of the cabin a black mist seeped forth, thickening into a body that materialised before her. "Owe me a meal." The mist evaporated and in its place was a clown, crouching, one huge foot on either side of her thighs. "The last one got a little s-s-soggy." A wet laugh broke from the depths of its throat. It's orange eyes glowed like molten rings and she was mesmerised. It leaned closer to her neck and breathed deep. And when it exhaled its chest emitted a rumbling hum.
Looking into its eyes was like staring into fire. Nicole swallowed and the hand around her throat squeezed tighter while her own hands gripped the sides of the seat. He was huge, easily seven foot, and she could see nothing but him as he bared his teeth, the prominent sharpness of them not lost on her.
"Perhaps… you?" Its grin widened and it paused for a moment... then bit down on the woman's shoulder.
Dagger-like teeth sunk into flesh and blood burst forth, soaking the checked shirt his victim wore. The smell was intoxicating, filling it's nose like it was drowning. Such thick and vibrant flavour! It reeled back, ripping meat and breaking bone as it tried to comprehend the intensity… the complexity… The chunk of flesh almost fell from it's jaws in awe, before it threw it further back into its trembling throat and swallowed. Blood trickled down painted lips, landing on and staining the woman's jeans. It didn't move as it let the juices dance their flavour over it's tongue. One gloved hand rested on it's victim's head while the other gripped her arm, anchoring it to reality as it's eyes swam with ecstasy. A shiver rippled through muscles and it purred.
The woman beneath It was still. Her chest no longer moving and her head pushed awkwardly onto her un-mutilated shoulder by It's hand. From the gaping wound the blood flow slowed, reflecting the nonexistence of a heartbeat. A splintered collar bone poked through flesh, threads of torn shirt caught on its point.
The clown sucked blood from it's lips, before it bent its head to lick at the exposed flesh, hot and wet, finding a tendon and twanging it with the tip of its tongue. A chuckle rippled through It, before it dug its tongue further and deeper through knotted muscle and sinew, almost reaching the chest cavity before withdrawing, rolling its head back and taking the time to ponder on the taste that fascinated it so.
Nothing It had ever eaten had felt quite like this.
Blinded with distraction and intrigue, the clown failed to notice the woman's shoulder reforming, silken flesh knitting itself back together.
Nicole's cheek spasmed, a finger followed suit, and her blank eyes sparked back to clarity in the dark. Then, a deep growl rumbled up from the pits of her chest, so loud it filled the cabin, like a wild animal's. Black smoke curled from between her teeth and her eyes, once green, were now red. Hot coals burning in the dark, staring right at It.
The clown froze, it's eyes shimmering with mirth before it snickered. It pointed a quivering finger at her as the broken collar sunk back into place, growing new bone through the freshly woven flesh.
She gave no warning. Her hand grabbed It's silver collar, and with a merry jingle of bells the clown was heaved through the open window.
Nicole threw the truck into first gear and stomped on the gas. The vehicle lurched and pulled away, wheels screeching before finding purchase and picking up speed. Pain burned at her shoulder and through the window she heard the clown's manic cackles. Laughter that shivered through her bones and she switched to second gear, building power and speed.
"NICKY! OH NICKY! YOU ARE PUZZLING! PUZZLING! YES! YES! YES YOU ARE!" It laughed, almost choking in its glee. Then the voice changed into a gutteral, monstrous cry: "AND SOOOOO TASTY!"
But looking in her wing mirror, Nicole saw nothing of the clown as it's voice faded into the depths of the night.
Derry, May 1989
Maybe it was the sun blinding her or how short he was or the complete obliviousness with which she moved, but the next time she met Ben she very nearly fell over him. A curse and a lazy apology fell from her mouth before realising the kid looked about ready to shit himself.
"It's you!" he said. His round face slackened with awe and he almost dropped the books he held. "From the sewer…"
She frowned at him, cigarette bobbing in her mouth as she spoke. "What?" Of all her long years, she'd never once been in a sewer.
The boy stuttered, blushing, and he shook his head. "No its… It's nothing." He turned away and attempted to shuffle off before she caught his shoulder.
"Ben?" It came out as a whisper before the overwhelming urge to hug him seized her. She could still see her little brother in him. And refraining from scaring the boy with her emotions, she instead took a desperate drag on her cigarette. "Montpelier… back in eighty-one. You remember me?" She sounded amazed. After all, the boy had only been around five or six at the time. And their meeting had lasted all of five minutes. But Ben still smiled and gave a nod.
"Yeah, I remember you."
"I remember you, too - and your ice cream." She couldn't help the grin that fought through.
"With all the trimmin's." They said together and laughed.
"So, what's this about a sewer?" She asked and gestured to a nearby bench. They walked over and sat down, Ben placing the books stuffed under his arm on the hot wood between them. "From what I remember it was a clear day and we were in the street close to the park." She said as her eyes scanned the titles of the tomes: 'Treasure Island', 'Derry, Maine: a History' and 'The World's Tallest Buildings'. All of which had faded pink and orange library stickers on their spines.
"Uh." The boy's face faltered and his round cheeks flushed. "Well its… when I bumped you just now… this might sound crazy, but I've always had this vision in my head of a woman- of you, stood in a sewer, like a cistern. But I could never see her face, because of the lights."
"Lights?" Nicole cocked an eyebrow. "In a sewer?"
"Yeah, there's always been these bright, orange lights coming from behind her so I could never see her face."
"Well if you can't see her face, why do you think it's me?"
"'Cause it feels like you." He said, so simply. "Warm and… safe." His cheeks burned brighter. And though he'd never be able to describe or even understand it, the same jolt of something that had passed through them the first day they'd ever met as he'd wiped away her tear, had passed through them again just now. And he knew it was her. Just knew.
Nicole smirked and puffed on her cigarette.
"You must think I'm crazy," Ben said, shaking his head and forcing a smile.
"Oh yeah, you're a regular loon." She said, staring off across the street and the boy looked dejected. "But I know exactly what you mean."
Ben looked up. "You do?"
She nodded, her eyes losing focus. "I get visions, too," she sighed. The image of a slightly older Ben being bullied in the middle of a school corridor flickered behind her eyes. All alone. Tears streaming down his hot, red face. No one to help. No one to care. Her heart clenched and she sucked on her cigarette. "Listen…" she paused, desperate to help him, to impart some wisdom to this kid that would help. "Just… be who you want to be, yeah?" She fought a cringe at how cliché that came out. Ben looked confused. "And… don't take any shit from people. Promise?"
The boy nodded. "Sure."
Nicole glanced at the cigarette in her hand and gestured with it. "And don't smoke. It's bad for you."
The boy laughed. "Okay."
"Pinky swear?" She offered her other hand, little finger curling out.
Seeing her brows pinched and her eyes hopeful, Ben knew this was some serious shit; no adult had ever pinky sworn with him before. And so he hooked his finger with hers and they shook once. "You're pretty cool for a grown-up," he said and Nicole laughed.
"You know, that's the best compliment I've had all year, kid."
Derry, April 2016
Seeing flashes of memories, past, present or future, was something Nicole had been able to do since the night her brother died. All it took was a light brush of skin on skin and more often than not a vision, sometimes two or three, would appear in her mind. Memories of the person she'd touched.
And so, when the image of a naked girl tied to a bed post, tears streaming down her bruised face entered her thoughts, she sucked in a breath and almost threw her hot chocolate over the counter. Her jaw clenched. Eyes wide. The man whose hand she'd brushed gave her an odd look before turning to prepare the next drink.
The coffee shop was rammed and she hurried over to the condiments area, taking her time to grab a napkin and two sugars before a lady approached from behind. Exchanging a quick 'sorry' as she stepped out of her way and into a prime position to observe, Nicole took the man in. Caucasian, short black hair, brown eyes. Young. Clean shaven. Tall, around six foot. And even at this distance her unnatural eyesight read the name Aiden from his badge.
Satisfied, she left.
The usual five o'clock traffic rolled by as she walked down the road, hot chocolate burning her hand even through the napkin as she turned on to Jackson street, making her way towards the intersection. Her apartment was halfway down Witcham and a steal at a measly two-hundred bucks a month. The bills didn't add much to her overall outgoings, and she found over the two months since she returned to Derry she was saving a hefty sum of money. But it wasn't the cheap house prices that had lured her back.
Derry was a quiet, unassuming town. Small and pleasant, if a little dull. But beneath it all was a roaring energy. It was like the entire town was on fire, and she had to know why.
Opening the door to her flat, she tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, took a teaspoon from the drawer and entered the living room.
"Alexa, play Talk is Cheap by Chet Faker," she said and flopped onto the couch. The smooth crooning of saxophones soon filled the apartment and she felt her muscles relax. Dumping the two sugars into her drink, she set it on the coffee table and stirred as her eyes caught the front page of the local paper.
MISSING MAN'S BODY FOUND IN BARRENS
Darren Burbridge; the man she'd picked up in a bar three nights ago. His body had washed up downstream after falling in while drunk and drowning. Her brow twitched and she took a sip of the steaming hot chocolate. It hadn't been her fault he'd died, like she'd intended. And she certainly hadn't expected the reason why to turn up in the back of her truck last night.
Goosebumps erupted down her arms as she recalled the burning orange of the clown's eyes. And even though he'd tried to kill her - well, succeeded - she felt drawn to him, or rather, something about him felt… good, felt… delicious. She scoffed at the thought. But she'd never felt anything like it before in her life, and she'd lived a long one.
You're a mouthful, that amounts for, another week on my own.
Her hand found a pen and began to sketch on the back of a bill envelope. She took another sip of hot chocolate and went over the brow lines again, making them bold and heavy set. She sat back and the clown's eyes gazed back at her, the pupils spaced out further than was considered normal.
She thought back to the night before. Cleaning her blood from the cabin's upholstery had been a bitch, not to mention her shirt was ruined. She may owe him a meal but he owed her more; he had taken her shoulder with him after all.
'Wanker.' She thought and sipped again.
She knew he wasn't human. That, she decided, was pretty fucking clear. But it only fuelled her curiosity.
She checked her phone for the time, noting she had another three hours before her shift started. Her job would take her to Bangor tonight, not a particularly long journey, but with the stench of bleach and underlying scent of blood, it could end up being a miserable one with a banging headache at the end of it.
She sighed, looked at the pair of eyes again and whispered: "... What are you?"
Thank you for reading.
This is just a pilot chapter to test the waters.
So please, let me know what you think!
I'm really excited; I've got a storyline planned out for this thing already!
The song Nicole is singing along to in the truck is Maria by Blondie if anyone is interested.