Christie, Liam and Josh-1988
"C'mon, get these," Liam orders as he tosses a bundle of white taper candles and holders at Josh, who fumbles as he catches them. "These will have to do. I ain't driving down to Bangor now. And these are the only ones they got."
They were in the candles and fragrance section of Rite-Aid. Standing beside them is Josh's younger sister Christie, decked out in a dark green crop top, denim jacket and skirt, chewing loudly on Skittles candies she boldly ripped open in front of a store employee sweeping the floor. The gangly young man had simply shrugged and kept moving along the aisle, pushing the wrinkled scraps of wrappers and dirt crumbs along the stained and scratched cream tiles.
It was Halloween night, and everyone else was out trick or treating or partying, so the store was almost empty.
"Shouldn't we use black candles? That's what they usually use, right?" Christie pipes up, tucking a tendril of wavy blonde behind her ear.
"They don't have them here, and I don't think we need them." Josh replies as a spiked-haired young man with a septum piercing and cartoonish-looking tattoos emerges from the snacks aisle with three bags of pretzels piled high in his arms.
"Someone's gettin' high tonight." Liam mutters, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his leather jacket as they watch the young man pay the cashier and exit.
"Hey where's Lucas?" Josh queries. "Thought he was coming?"
"Stuck at his girlfriend's. She goes to church and all that and thinks we're all a bunch of heathens." Liam grins, his neck-length greasy hair tumbling over his dark sunken eyes as he continues to scan the shelf, before blowing a sigh throw his nostrils.
"Hope he don't make that uptight bitch my sister-in-law. Would hate to see her every fucking holiday," he pauses. "Yeah, we're done here." he announces as he gives a quick flick of his hand, scarred with cigarette burns, motioning for Josh and Christie to follow him.
As a song by New Kids On The Block starts blaring over the store speakers, Liam sends a taunting grin at Christie as he begins a comical flailing of his limbs in the aisle, weaving his lanky frame, trying to mimic the dance moves of the boy banders.
"Hey, I'm Joey McIntyre. Ain't you into them Christie?" he says as he starts to snap his fingers as he does a shuffle up to her. With a disgusted visage, Christie sticks her palm out, blocking him from coming closer.
"God no," she says, her face looking as if she'd just taken a whiff of the worst-smelling garbage imaginable. "Fucking Greta Keene listens to that shit. Not me."
Greta had taken to hanging out front of Derry Middle School, waiting for Christie, and along with Sally Mueller, started chucking rolled up paper balls, juice boxes and empty soda cans at her as she passed by. She'd been a target since she'd walked in on them tormenting a girl named Beverly Marsh and promptly cussed them out. They then began targeting her. It had become a ritual at this point.
Liam halts his dancing, his mien dropping to a more serious one. "C'mon man." he says, sniffling loudly, running his left index along the thin black mustache that aged him at least ten years. He didn't look like a young man of eighteen, but rather a thirty year old you might see working Derry's seedy bar scene. Compared to Josh's more boyish, youthful appearance with his short dirty blonde hair, stonewashed jeans and Derry High School jacket, they made an odd match in terms of friends.
The young cashier looks nervous as the three approach, with Liam digging into the back pocket of his trousers, presenting some wrinkled up dollar bills and loose change.
"Hey, got money tonight man," Liam gives a leering grin to the cashier, whose cheeks are now flushed a light pink. He nods rapidly as he quickly takes the money from Liam, snatching it from his palm as if worried he might contract a disease by touch.
"See ya'," Liam continues his lurid grinning as he makes a finger gun with his hand, pointing it at the timid cashier, clicking his tongue. "Later dude."
After all three pile into Liam's red Pontiac Firebird, Josh tosses the plastic bag of candles into the backseat beside Christie. As they cruise along Kansas Street. Josh snaps on the radio, with Liam loudly belting out the lyrics as Josh cranks up the volume.
"You're motoring, what's your price for flight, in finding mister right, you'll be alright tonight!" he sings in an deep, exaggerated intonation, sending glances back at Christie over his shoulder. She loudly groans as she slinks down against the backseat.
"Why do you always have to be such a dick?" she sighs as she gazes out at the street lights blurring past. She huffs, folding her arms as he continues his taunting crooning, turning in his seat to face her, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
"Babe, you know, you're growing up so fast, and mama's worrying-"
"No she ain't." Christie sternly cuts in, pushing the plastic bag aside as she shuffles in her seat, kicking the empty beer cans along the tacky floor with the toe of her sneakers. The odor inside the car nauseating her with what she suspected was a combination of weed and vomit.
They pass by a bar with patrons loitering outside. She points.
"Ma is probably in there."
Their mother Melanie certainly wasn't worrying about anything or anyone other than her next lay.
"I hate that fucking song." she adds.
Liam abruptly stops his warbling as they come to a stop in front of their destination; 29 Neibolt Street.
"Ah, fuck yeah!" Liam hits the breaks and leaps out, making his way to the trunk. Throwing it open, he removes a large heavy item, wrapped in a grimey brown cloth, along with a couple of flashlights. Slamming the hood, he approaches Josh and Christie.
"Here it is. It's big enough. We're gonna do this, man. And it's gonna be fuckin' cool!" he exclaims excitedly as he pounces towards the front door of the run-down mansion, long rumored to be a haven for every tweaker in town.
As well as ghosts and the occasional Satanist-a crowd that Liam ran with. It was his idea to come to the most infamous house in Derry to perform a seance. They'd let Christie tag along for the ride.
As Josh duly follows. Christie pauses, holding the plastic bag of candles, staring up at the circular attic window. She remains there, her hazel disks focused on the tenebrous just within the foggy and cracked glass.
She gazes over at the police tape draped along the wrought iron fence that had been torn, a sign that others had trespassed along the property.
"What a shithole." she mumbles beneath her breath.
A pair of large hands violently shove her forward. She nearly falls over, catching herself against the wooden beam of the porch, feeling a pinch against her thumb as a splinter pricks her skin.
"Ow, shit." she gasps as she whirls around, certain that asshole Liam or Josh were pranking her.
But no one.
She quickly runs inside, trying to work the splinter from her flesh, a tear of red blood forms, pushing it out.
"Someone just pushed me," she says as she shuts the rickety old door behind her, trading her gaze between her brother and his friend, trying to decide who was the culprit. She drops the plastic bag to her feet as she snatches up a flashlight, shining it on her finger.
"Maybe it was the ghost!" Liam cackles, his jeering grin a hint that maybe it had been him. Christie glowers at him.
"It's not funny. Someone came up behind me-"
"You just tripped," Josh interjects dismissively. "We were both in here. Liam was with me."
"Yeah," Liam agrees as he switches on his flashlight, aiming it at his face. "I told, you it was the ghost. This place is haunted like a motherfucker. You know by that piano teacher."
"Edna Cotton?" Josh inquires.
"Yep, lived here around 1906," Liam continues, "She was banging Joseph Mueller. He wouldn't leave his wife. So, one day, she invited his wife here for tea- and the wife had no clue about the affair- and then she crept up behind her with an axe and pow!" he swings his arms as if holding an invisible weapon. "Blade went into the back of wifey's skull. They found Edna wondering the streets afterwards, covered in blood. They hanged her a week later. They had to do it quick, since they were afraid the Mueller wife's family and friends would get to her first. "
"Wow." Christie says, her arms scissored around her, feeling a stark chill suddenly pulse through her, goosebumps prickling along her skin. The mention of the Mueller name made her think of Sally.
She glances to the front door.
No, no ghost. Just Liam being a douchbag and tying to scare her. Maybe she did trip. Pushing it out of her mind, she moves to stand by Josh.
"Alright, let's do this," Liam positions himself before the cloaked item, yanking away the material to reveal a large oval-shaped mirror. He traces a callused fingertip along its golden frame. "Mirrors are portals. Gateways."
Josh snatches up the bag of candles and pulls out his lighter, igniting each and lining them up around the mirror. Christie lowers herself to sit on the icy floor.
"Think this will work huh?" Josh queries as he stares at his reflection. Liam nods, keeping his eyes glued to his own.
"Legend has it The Brotherhood of Nineteen used to hold seances here," Liam says. "They also used to do mirror gazing, trying to contact the dead. I read one of them went crazy after he stared at a mirror too long and his reflection morphed into something inhuman, a demonic pigman or something. Now close your eyes."
Liam starts to recite an incantation under his breath, but neither Josh nor Christie can decipher what he's saying. The room is quiet, dark, save for the soft light of the candles.
Christie decides to peek, opening her lids and watching, eyes widening as she sees a pitch black fog that resembles liquid start to spread along the mirror, drowning out their reflections. She inhales sharply at the unexpected sight.
The black fog quickly vanishes as she does so. Liam growls, "Hey what the fuck?"
"I saw something. In the mirror-"
"It was working? Dammit! Don't fuckin' talk! Shit!" Liam hisses as he gives her a murderous glare. Josh places a hand on Christie's shoulder.
"It's okay. Just keep them closed." he offers gently as Liam keeps his intense brown irises on her.
"Again." he states coldly as he turns back to face the mirror, and, once again, recites that indiscernable invocation. Christie keeps her lids squeezed shut. For a moment she heeds Liam's order. But something was telling her to open them again. A tension begins to envelope her tiny frame, her chest tightening, heart thumping against the tightness forming in her throat.
And she looks.
What she sees is not an inky fog cloud this time, but...a clown. Clear as day. His round face outlined by the golden of the candlelight. His pupils two flaming smooth yellow rings. His grin is trimmed in dark red stripes that cut across his white cheeks. The most startling thing of all are his teeth; sharp and pointy, like a demon out of the horror movies.
"Oh my God!" Christie shrieks as she scrambles away on her hands and knees, coming to a stop near the staircase.
"Fucking Hell!" Liam roars as he bolts up. "You can't take her anywhere! Fuck!"
"What is it?" Josh crawls over to his terrified sister, her gaze on the mirror, bottom lip trembling as she leans her weight against her palms. The weird clown face has vanished from the glass.
"There was something in the mirror. A face in the mirror. Like...a clown's face." Christie breathes, her voice dripping with panic, her chest heaving rapidly. Liam gives a disgusted scoff, his hands on his hips as he hangs his head, shaking it.
"Can't bring her anywhere," he grumbles. "A fucking clown? What the fuck even?"
Wham! Wham! Wham!
A pounding starts from beneath the floor. Continous, growing louder. More ominous. Even Liam looks startled at this. Josh eyes the floorboards, eyebrows knotted as he wraps an arm around Christie.
"Sounds like it's coming from the basement." he offers.
"Gee, ya' think so huh?" Liam states sarcastically as he stares downwards for a fleeting moment before he grabs up a flashlight and storms towards the kitchen in the direction of the basement door. "Probably some fuckin' crackhead. If it is, they're going to get their ass beat. I'm not in the mood for this shit."
Josh follows, with Christie close behind, her finger clasping the hem of Josh's black and orange high school jacket. Liam and Josh both charge down the basement steps, flashlight beams searching along the dusty warped steps. They both pause halfway down to glance at the darkness, a runnel of moonlight is cutting through the cracked and stained basement window.
"Who the fuck is here man?" Liam shouts as he keeps the light pointedly on the well, holding his forearm against the lower half of his face to shield against the odor of rotting wood. There is no answer, only the aged pulley that dangles over the well entrance begins to squeak as it swings, ever so slightly.
"What is-" Josh begins before he's cut off by the basement door slamming. He and and Liam bolt back up the steps.
"Hey Christie, the fuck you doing? Open it," Josh pounds on the door. "Hey! Open!"
Then, in between flesh striking the wood, they hear it. A loud bubbling growl emitting from the dark of the basement corner. Josh halts his pounding as he and Liam both turn their attention on the well.
Rising up from beneath is a creature, humanoid in appearance, save for its face. Its features were only somewhat visible in the dim light of the room. The blue-white moonlight gleamed along the tusks protruding out from its snarled and twisted mouth. It gave another growl, a snarl mixed with a squeal.
Like a pig. Its eyes were like two burning balls above its snout, devoid of any pupils, pointedly on both of them. The odd ruby stripes down its cheeks distort as it continues to snarl.
"Shit, the fuck is that?" Josh manages, grabbing Liam's elbow. The young man remains frozen, seemingly hypnotized by the creature's blazing corneas. Josh violently shoves him aside to resume frantically banging on the door.
"Christie! Open it! There's something fuckin' in here man! Open it!" he shouts, not removing his sight from the pig-like monster. "Fuckin' open you little bitch!"
Suddenly, the beast is behind them, moving with lightning speed at the bottom of the steps. Liam screams as it yanks him down by the ankles, he flails backwards, landing with a loud thud and a groan.
The beast then speedily leaps up and tackles Josh, the front of his skull cracks against the door. He falls to the ground, with the beast's demonic swine features becoming more blurry as he's rendered barely concious, he feels the bopping of his head along the steps as he is dragged down the stairs.
"Hello, goodbye." the monster growls before it tears into Josh's throat, with Liam still knocked cold beside him.
Outside the door, Christie is staring blankly at it, hearing nothing. Just a stark silence. Her mind is hollow. Numb.
Christie.
A maniacal giggle follows.
Christie.
Another giggle.
She slowly turns around, looking up to the second floor balcony. Without giving much thought to what she was doing, she saunters up the steps, still hearing a soft insidous giggling amid the creaks of her soles along the wood. She comes to a halt in front of an open door to a room filled with clown dolls.
In the corner is a dark-haired woman seated on a rocking chair, facing the stained glass windows. On her lap, one of the clown dolls wearing a yellow and blue outift, with orange pom poms down its front. Its large eyes were turned downwards, and for a fleeting moment, Christie could swear she sees it blink.
"He said he loved me." the woman offers quietly. Christie sucks in a deep breath, her mouth becoming dry, a thump thickens in her throat. Her heart races against her rib cage.
"Who?" Christie squeaks as the woman suddenly turns to look at her. Christie's heart now feels as if it could stop beating completely at the sight she sees.
The woman's face is but a half-skeleton, bits of flesh dangling from her chin, her eyelids non-existent, leaving her bloodshot eyeballs exposed like two small moons. Her irises like black holes. As she rises, the front of her dress comes into view, caked in dark dried blood.
"He said he wanted me!" she screams as she presents an axe, splattered with blood streaks. Christie screams hysterically, falling against the door as the woman comes at her. The giggling starts again, and Christie, to her utter shock and horror watches as the clown doll that was sitting on the woman's lap becomes animated, moving on its own. It painted features now drawn into an evil glare.
All the dolls in the room were moving, waving their hands and giggling. A chorus of laughter chases after Christie as she takes off down the hallway, the insane woman following behind. She can hear the axe cutting through the chilly air as the woman swings it at her, barely missing Christie's back.
She bounds down the stairs, almost stumbling, grasping the shoddy railing, cobwebs catching along her fingers. She runs to the front door, jiggling the handle, finding its stuck-or locked.
There's no time to comprehend which, the crazed woman is coming for her. Only now, she has red stripes down her cheeks along the rotted flesh and bone. Christie dodges the swinging axe, making a play back up the stairwell. Still in shock, she holds in another scream, concentrating on finding refuge, running inside a room with a large leather chair, desk with a single lamp that was aglow, vintage record player and coffee table.
Inside, after she has closed the door and locked it. She stands, tears coursing down her beet red cheeks, a headache throbbing through her skull. Her whole body is trembling uncontrollably as she sinks to the floor, holding her knees, rocking.
If she could get to Josh. Or even asshole Liam would do.
Somebody. Anybody.
She remains in the same position for a few minutes, sniffling, tense, as she keeps her attention on the door, until she hears a crackling sound as the old dusty record player begins to play;
'You're motoring, what's your price for flight, in finding mister right, you'll be alright tonight.'
When the verse plays a second time, the needle begins skipping, the phrase, "What's your price" repeating on a loop. Christie tightly covers her ears, tucking her head down.
"What's your price?" the man in the red truck asks Melanie, whose leaning against the door. They're in the driveway of Melanie's house, and it's just after midnight.
"Whatever you got-" Melanie says in between her loud gum chewing. The man then nods behind her.
"Hey, we got company." he mutters. Melanie turns to see Christie in her pale lavender nightgown, clutching her Raggedy Ann doll.
"Mommy...?"
"Get your ass back in bed!" Melanie roars as she stalks towards her, pushing her up the porch steps.
Christie darts up, screaming as she runs at the record player, knocking it to the ground, stomping the shiny black of the record, smashing and cracking it. She continues to angrily pummel it with her soles, kicking the pieces aside. Her fury does nothing to drown out the forest of giggles she hears as she does so.
"Who is there?" she asks forcefully, feeling a new strength come over her. Her anger, her fear, were now collidng, blending, erupting in a powerful adrenaline rush.
She was done with this crap.
"Who the fuck are you?! Where's my brother, you fuckers?!"
The voices quiet, hushing each other, trying to hold in their mocking cackling. The room is dark save for the tiny lamp, and the only thing she can make out are the feet of her assailants moving stealthily along the shadows of the corners of the room. Charily, they begin to present themselves, each clown doll stepping forward, each one differnt than the last, tall, short, inching out into the weak light. Their giggling starts up again.
"No," Christie gives a small shake of her head. "No, this isn't real. You're just a dream. You're the pizza and ice cream I gorged on last night. I must have fallen asleep in the car. Because this isn't real."
This instantly silences them. They all glance to each other, their worn and aged features almost looking...scared. Or worried.
"I wouldn't say that. You'll make him mad..." offers the one who was perched on the lap of the crazed woman with the axe.
She wasn't real either. Just a ghost. A junk food-induced hallucination.
Christie, the emotionally intelligent girl that she is, now decided to wield her new power.
"You're not real. You're not fucking real." she points a taunting finger. "You're just imaginary. Just stupid dolls. I'm not scared of fucking dolls!" she finishes, almost laughing as she brings her fingers up to her mouth.
The room then starts to rumble, like an earthquake. The dolls all clamor back to the shadows, seemingly disappearing into the ratted and torn wallpaper. One utters an audible, "Uh-oh," as they vanish from sight. Accompanying the thunderous shaking is a raspy roar, echoing around Christie as she runs to the room's door, flinging it open, instantly being met with the axe woman.
"You're not real!" Christie shouts defiantly, the woman shrinks back, lowering her axe. Christie takes the opportunity to then jump down the stairs, the edge of her sneaker catching on a piece of broken railing that is protruding from a step and tumbles, flying down the stairwell, landing at the bottom and rolling to the center of the living room. She remains there, until she opens her lids, feeling the warmth of the sun upon her color drained features. She gradually raises her head, before she pushes herself up and heads to the door. Stepping out in the brightness of daylight, embracing the warmth, she makes her way home, just a block away.
Standing in the bathroom of her bedroom, she observes her tired features.
It had been a dream. A very vivid one. But a dream nonetheless.
Josh and Liam had left her there clearly, not that Josh hadn't abandoned her before. He would normally not have done that, but Liam's influence was strong. Maybe when she passed out during that silly little seance Liam wanted to do. Or maybe in the car ride. But, didn't she see something? She could have sworn she did. In the mirror. Or was that part of the dream too?
Oh well. Whatever happened, she was home now. Josh would turn up sooner or later. He was probably off smoking weed with Liam.
Assholes. Both of them.
She switches on the tap, gently splashing her face with cold water. She opens the medicine cabinet to retrieve the aspirin. She shuts it, and in the reflection, standing right behind her are Josh and Liam. She screams as she takes in their bloody and chewed facial features, Liam grinning his mocking leering grin. Just as the aspirin bottle hits the floor, she jolts awake.
Awake. Cold. Head pounding as she lay on the floor of Neibolt at the bottom of the stairs. She groggily lifts her aching body up, moaning in pain, placing her palm to her forehead. She lets out a defeated whimper as she sits, gazing around as the oval mirror that still sat leaning against the wall begins to roll out in front of her. Christie gasps, keeping her eyes on it as it comes to a halt a few feet away from her. Her heavy breathing is audible as she stares at it.
The surface of the mirror begins to ripple, her reflection fading as a massive white gloved hand emerges from the watery silver, wiry fingers wiggling, deep, rasping chuckles drifting out along with it as the ruffled sleeve of the hand appears. Then a bulbous head topped with fiery orange tufts of hair. Christie's mouth is agape, her eyes bulged as she tries to inch away from Pennywise, who has now pulled his entire upper torso out of the mirror, bells jingling. Leaning on his fists, he grins, those familiar stripes distorting as he sneers,
"Time to float," he growls before his features darken. "You are scared now, aren't you?" he loudly sniffs the air. "Yes, you are. Real, delectable fear."
He crawls out a little further, his visage becoming more irate, saliva strings dangling from his lips. "What a shithole." he says, mimicking Christie's voice.
Crippled with fear, Christie begins to scoot away, a tearful grimace forming, her legs kicking along the floor, before Pennywise's hand shoots out, coiling around her ankle.
Christie shrieks as he drags her towards him as he retreats back into the mirror. With a flash of light, the surface is normal again, save for a few small orange electric bolts shivering along the glass.
As the mirror tips back over, the faint sounds of giggling begins, filling the rooms of the house.