"You'll float too."

IT ~ Stephen King

JUNE, 1985

MIRKWOOD, HAWKINS

Dustin was walking home alone after he'd split ways from Mike. Every now and then he'd keep checking over his shoulder, feeling a presence behind him. Nothing was ever there but it still made Dustin twitchy especially as he turned onto Mirkwood. Normally he'd avoid the street but the party had split up late and curfew was nearly upon them. It wasn't a particularly horrifying street; it had a couple houses (they were never lived in for long), a broken stop sign and on the corner there was the old steel works which had long since been abandoned. Dustin crossed to the other side of the road as he approached the steel works. The corrugated metal and rusty frames were hazy like the building wasn't entirely there and no matter how much sunlight illuminated the street it was always dim, worse now that dusk was fast approaching. Something seemed to ground him to a halt opposite the plot like a giant magnet pulling him towards the deserted works. Ratty sunflowers twined through the gaps in the chain link fence and were aesthetic in a sort of horror DD way. Dustin checked over his shoulder again but no one was there. The prickling feeling intensified when he noticed the previously shut door swinging open on its hinges. If there was one thing that Dustin hated it was the unexplainable occurrences of paranormal activity. Science was his niche (he firmly believed magic counted as a science), he liked to know the how and the why and so when that comfort was taken away it left behind a sharp thrill of fear in its place.

The sudden beeping of his watch violently startled him. His other hand came clamping down on the little square face with a dizzying speed. The obnoxious noise was muffled beneath his palm as he anxiously checked the area. A skittering caught his attention and suspicious eyes watched the dead shrubs with rapt attention. Dustin was very prepared to bolt, he'd even half raised his arm ready to keep his hat in place, but the bushes rustled again and he was caught in something of a tractor beam when a dainty pink egg rolled onto the path. It was one of those classic Easter eggs used in Easter hunts and Dustin mused that curiosity was as much a curse as it was a blessing whilst he shuffled closer to scoop it up. He hefted the thing in his palm and was surprised to find it heavier than it looked. He dropped it to the floor and it bounced like a ping pong ball, rolling down the path and bumping into another one that Dustin swore wasn't there earlier. The new egg was a russet colour and patchy in odd places. Dustin moved closer and knelt down to pick it up.

"Hey! That's mine." He was nearly bowled over as a young boy, about six, careened past him and snatched up the two Easter eggs. An old wicker basket dangled from his arm and his collection of eggs wobbled dangerously as he swung it around precariously. Dustin pushed himself to his feet only to the see the heels of the kid disappearing around the side of the works.

"Hey wastoid!" He called after him, both in warning and in annoyance. The boy only replied with a laugh that faded as he ran further away. Not really seeing any other option Dustin chased after him. "Dude seriously, it's not safe to play here."

As he rounded the corner Dustin's previous anxiety seemed to triple. Shadows seemed to expand and reach out towards him, numerous small rustling noises echoed eerily and the wind whistling through the corrugated sheets sounded both taunting and foreboding all at once. The main reason for his trepidation though was the absence of the boy. On this side of the building the fence was more intact, ancient sawdust blew over the ground and cracks in the windows seemed to come from within rather than from rocks thrown by kids. To Dustin's right the works opened up and displayed a rusty metal staircase decorated with darker rust stains. It descended into a darkness that seemed to almost pulse with some omnipotent force. Dustin tried swallowing back his heebie-jeebies as he shuffled past it. "Hey mouthbreather! It's time to go!" He called but only silence answered him, not even a giggle.

Now Dustin was seriously creeped out. Damn it, leave the kid and let's go. He'd turned around after surrendering to that thought only to jump back in alarm as something dropped from above and splattered at his feet. Dustin screwed his eyes shut. Please don't be a monster, please don't be a monster, please don't be a monster. It wasn't. After a couple of seconds when Dustin realised he hadn't been killed yet he cracked his eyes open and let them fall on the thing in the dust. It was an Easter egg. A shattered Easter egg leaking a bloody yolk.

Dustin was frozen in terror as the little boy giggled from above him. He was hidden in the shadows surrounding the fire escape with only his shiny bowling shoes peeping out. "Look what I found Dusty!" He crowed. With each step he descended the metal stairs creaked beneath him. The basket in his hands was clanging around and several more eggs spilled out. "Whoops." He giggled as the shells rained from above and cracked against the dirt. Dustin almost lost his stomach when the green egg didn't contain a yolk but instead a slimy eyeball. "I found a lot of eggs." The boy called. "But there's just one thing I couldn't find." Dustin moved away, scrambling back as the boy jumped off the steps and landed crouched on the floor. Dustin felt like he was going to faint, all the blood in his head rushing out and leaving him dizzy. A rising wave of nausea broiled in his stomach and he let loose a hair raising scream at what was before him. Where a head should be there was only the bloodied stump of neck, muscle and sinew oozing from the top and squirting short spurts of blood. The boy giggled, the exposed windpipe making a hissing noise, and Dustin bolted.

He tore back around the front of the works almost tripping over several times in his haste to get away. He could hear the little boy following him and screamed frantic curses whilst his watch beeped obnoxiously. He was scared sick, his heart beating a tattoo against his chest as he chanced a look behind him. His mouth dried up completely. The little boy was gone but something far worse stood in his place. A clown. A greasy white clown with blood red makeup and a renaissance style lace costume. His too wide smile was terrifying as he held the strings of a dozen red balloons. "Where ya going Dusty? If you lived here you'd be home by now." It didn't make sense but Dustin didn't dwell on it, foregoing the front path and just vaulting straight through the broken chain link. Behind him he heard one of the balloons pop and felt an awful swooping in his stomach, like the feeling you get when you drop on a roller coaster. Only when Dustin looked back there was no one there, just the sad remains of a tattered balloon.

HOPPER CABIN

Hopper was asleep in his arm chair with the TV still playing quietly in front of him when El crept through the door. A plate still covered with tinfoil was left on the table and El felt slightly guilty. Still, Hop said seven and the clock in the kitchen pointed to 6:59. Instead of waking him El reached for a throw and gently covered him with the blanket. He snored loudly and El had to stuff a fist in her mouth to stifle the giggle.

She retreated quietly into the bathroom to get ready for bed, her mind replaying the day's events over. However, unlike yesterday the memories of today filled her with a giddy joy. She felt like a fool grinning to herself in the mirror and her cheeks ached with the amount of laughing she'd done. An underlying thread of worry for Max still sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach and she'd belatedly realised that she hadn't even gotten the other girl's number to ring up and check that she'd returned safely. The smile slipped from her face as horrid images of Max injuring herself on her skateboard and lying helpless whilst she was snatched up by whatever was making the other children disappear. "Help me." She seemed to whisper and El shook her head to dispel the unwanted thoughts.

"She's safe." El told herself firmly. "Bad things won't get her."

"Help me." A voice croaked and El jerked backwards. That had certainly not come from her head. "Please! El." It cried weakly.

"Max?" El asked but the voice was of a higher pitch and more childlike.

"Help us!" Another voice called out and El slunk towards the sink. More pleas echoed from the plughole and El curled her hands around the basin as she tried to peer down the drain.

"Is someone down there?" She called and the voices suddenly fell silent. "Hello?"

A darker, more sinister thing responded but still with a child's voice. "We all want to play with you." It whispered and El rocked back away from the sink. Soon the other children's voices echoed out with it, the single voice turning into a cacophony and bubbling up through the ages.

"Come play with us El!" They chanted. "Come play with us! You'll float too!" El fled through the door terrified, something so very disturbing about the medley of voices ranging from a baby's gurgle to a teen's unnatural giggle. It can't be real she thought. It can't be real because children don't call out from a sink.

She peeked her head around the door and found nothing out of the ordinary except the low whisper of wind that whistled from the basin. It made the same sound during really bad storms which helped calm El's nerves. "It's just the plumbing." She muttered. "Just the plumbing." She repeated as she turned back into the main room. Hopper's toolkit lay discarded on the floor underneath a newly plastered crack in the wall and an idea formed in her head. Careful not to wake Hopper, she tip-toed towards the bag and rifled around for the tape measure. Victorious she pulled it out and extended it, the shlink of metal against plastic the only sound other than the rickety fan and Hop's deep breathing. Creeping like a skittish cat El managed to slip back into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly before turning to face the sink. All noises had stopped.

El unfurled the tape, inserting the end into the plughole and lowering it down inch by inch. She expected to reach the bottom at some point but the pipe just kept going further and further down, deeper into the earth. It came to the point where the tape measure was fully extended and nothing had brushed against it other than the crusty walls. The metal tip still dangled above emptiness and El eventually decided to reel it in. Back up it came, inch by inch.

At thirteen feet something slick and red coated the tape. El dropped it in horror as blood splattered the basin sides from where the tape had coiled. A single strand of hair snaked its way up the drain and wound its way around El's wrist. She tugged at it but another lashed out and then another. Thick ropes of bloodied hair bound El's arms before drawing taut and forcing her face into the basin. She shrieked and jerked her head back, yanking at her wrists and desperately trying to free herself. The threads were unrelenting and pulled her closer and closer to the plughole that had started to emit a wet gurgling sound. El thrashed and twisted still screaming but it was of no use. Just as the tip of her nose lined up with the dark hole a huge spray of vicious blood erupted from the sink. The bonds loosened as El got a face full of the liquid and she ripped herself free from them, the strands snapping and trailing like gory spider webs.

The force of the stream knocked the lamp and El stumbled backwards, tripping into the bath as blood continued to pool out of the sink like a demonic fountain. She had blood in her mouth, blood in her eyes and blood dripping from her hair. Her clothes were soaked with the stuff and Max's swimsuit still underneath would no doubt be stained horribly beyond repair. El was sobbing as the blood stung her eyes and tasted coppery in her mouth. She leaned to the side to spit it out but the thickness of it made her choke and splutter. It was still hot and therefore fresh. Steam curled from the splattered walls and El almost went base over apex as she climbed out of the tub and tried to cross the slick floor.

The door banged open and El jumped back in fright. She slid on the floor and let out a yowl as she landed hard on her rear, scooting backwards until her back hit the wall. "What the hell kid!" Hopper cried as he stood in the doorway. El was sobbing so hard that her shoulders shook and her heart stuttered like an old motor engine. The concern was etched so deep onto Hopper's face that it would probably leave permanent lines as he stared at his kid hunched in the corner crying.

"B-b-blood." El choked out. "Th-the blood." Fresh tears streaked her face.

"What blood? Did Mayfield hurt you?" Hopper asked, going from concerned to protective in a flash. El shook her head and the anger melted off of him as he furrowed his brows in confusion. "Then what blood kiddo?" El stared at him wide eyed. How could he not see it dripping from the ceiling and painting the walls? How could he not see that she was coated in it from head to toe?

"My clothes." She murmured, more to herself than him but Hopper still heard it and his face went ashen. For some reason he coughed nervously and raised a hand to scratch at his neck, a habit reserved for when he was feeling uncomfortable or awkward.

"Uhm, don't worry kid that can wash out. I think we have uh some paracetamol in the cupboard and I can get you a hot water bottle too if you want that?" He shuffled in the doorway and El felt heat rush to her cheeks as she understood what he was implying. She was about to correct him but hesitated; his eyes had never once strayed from her face, not to the now silent sink nor the smeared window pane. So instead El just nodded and slumped against the floor when he left, resigning herself to the fact that she might well be insane.

WHEELER RESIDENCE

Mike had fallen asleep reading an old Dandy comic which now lay crumpled underneath his head. The edges had started to bleed ink onto the pillow as the rain outside picked up and the leak on the ceiling dripped. Water droplets fell irregularly from the damp spot, eventually waking Mike as it splashed off of the pages and onto his cheek a couple times. He roused grumpily, eyeing the stain on the ceiling and debating whether to leave it and just pull his covers over his head. Unfortunately the soft plink of the drip was a persistent annoyance once he realised it was there. With an aggravated growl Mike tossed back the covers and traipsed out onto the landing. The upstairs utility closet was across from his room so it wasn't a huge inconvenience but a pain none the less. He grabbed a bucket and clicked the door shut softly, heading back to his own room. A light stopped him. The glow of a pink nightlight was seeping from beneath Holly's closed door. Mike felt his breath constrict in his chest. He set the bucket down next to his room before cautiously twisting the knob on Holly's door.

The room was frozen in time as if Holly had just gone to a slumber party rather than declared dead just over six months ago. The lid of her toy box was flipped open with several barbies and Mike's old plastic dinosaurs hanging out. Her bed was too cold as Mike sat on the edge, picking up her tiger plush and fighting back tears. The photographs hanging from the walls seemed to watch him, the eyes of the frozen faces flickering unnaturally in the dim light.

It was just as Mike indulged himself in the sadness that had invaded him that he saw the shadow stretch across the doorway. "Mom?" He asked but the shadow vanished. Frowning, he got up from the bed and poked his head out onto the landing. No one was there. The light beneath his parents's door was off but Mike didn't believe that he'd hallucinated.

Squelch. Mike jumped as he put his foot on a soggy patch of carpet. Looking closer it was a small footprint. At the top of the stairs came squeaking like wet rubber chaffing together. Mike followed the trail of wet footprints all the way down stairs and into the kitchen. This is a bad idea Mike thought. A very bad idea. None the less he stood by the kitchen island at the end of the footprints. There was no one there and Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The tiger plush was still in one hand, the poor thing being strangled by Mike's tight grip. "Dad?" He asked halfheartedly despite knowing that the footprints were far too small to be his dad's.

A bright flash of yellow zipping around the corner startled him to the point that he yelped as he stumbled backwards, the tiger plush falling to the floor as his hands gripped the counter for balance. The basement door banged open as the yellow thing flew into it and disappeared down the stairs. Fear pulsed at the base of Mike's neck but not enough to overcome his curiosity. There was no noise from above which meant his parents hadn't woken yet. Mike sidestepped the tiger and hesitantly followed the thing into the basement.

The light still wasn't working but that didn't seem to matter as the room shimmered with some sort of glow. Faint lapping could be heard as water washed over the bottom steps and Mike made a mental note to tell his dad that the house had been flooded. There was a splashing sound from the corner and Mike's eyes darted towards it. He was able to make out the yellow thing quivering beneath his old blanket fort. "H-Holly?" Mike asked, his voice wavering as he dropped down another step to get closer to her. The thing raised its head, the yellow hood falling off and revealing little Holly Wheeler's scared and pinched face. Her hair was plastered to her head and still dripping water, the two braids a damp brown instead of their usual gold. "Holly!" Mike cried and she whimpered. Tears filled her big brown eyes as she burrowed further into the blanket fort until she was barely visible with only half of her face peeking out from behind one of the sheets.

"I lost it Mike, please don't be mad." She sniffled and Mike felt his own tears clogging his throat. All this time he'd been carrying around the guilt of her disappearance and now she stood before him scared that he would be mad at her.

"I'm not mad Hols." He reassured her, moving to wade into the water but he hesitated; something seemed off. On instinct he reached out and knocked the broom leaning against the banister. It sunk all the way in, making a deep splash rather than a shallow one which prompted Mike to eye Holly critically.

"It just floated off." Holly pleaded, her young voice cracking as she moved to the forefront of the fort and held her arms out like she used to do when she was younger and wanted to be picked up. Something cold ghosted down Mike's spine and he moved slowly back towards the safety of the kitchen. "It just floated off Mikey but if you come with me you'll float too." She whimpered and Mike's eyes widened in alarm.

"Hols..."

"You'll float too!" She giggled. "You'll float too!" Something slowly emerged from the water like a crocodile waiting for prey. "You'll float too!" Holly repeated, her voice edged with aggression as she scowled and stomped her galoshes. "You'll float too!" She yelled and the words bubbling out of her were caught in the flow of muck and water that spewed from her mouth. Mike recoiled horrified as the mixture of sewage and rain ate her up from the inside out, dissolving her features and leaving behind a mucussy mess. The thing in the water was only half submerged, its amber eyes reflecting the patterns of the flood as it drifted towards the stairs. Holly, or what was left of her, was gliding across the water being propped up by the white face like some sort of meat puppet. Mike was frozen, his mind uncomprehending as his eyes fixated on the other worldly monster. It grinned with such a predatory gleam that Mike's heart leapt into his throat and his legs were already backpedalling him up the stairs by the time Holly caved inwards and crumpled forwards, splashing face first and disappearing beneath the water. The thing behind her wasted no time in lunging forward, chasing after Mike up the stairs and gnashing and snapping its teeth at his heels like a rapid dog. Mike's palms were sweating as he tripped up the last step and slammed the door shut, fumbling at the lock with slick hands before darting back to the safety of his bedroom.

Under the relative security of his blanket Mike screwed his eyes shut and curled himself up as small as he could. There was no noise in the house but the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him on high alert. It's just a bad dream, he thought. It's just a bad dream he repeated to himself like a mantra, whispering the words over and over again until the adrenaline faded and his muscles loosened. He slipped into an uneasy sleep full of sinister smiles and nursery rhymes.

© ELIXB | 2020