When Writers Bleed On Paper

Pull Me From My Grave

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Characters: Stanley Uris and Bill Denbrough

Setting: It the Noval, Chapter three: Six Phone Calls, Pages: 41-53

Romantic: Can be interpreted

Story Type: Angst with an happy ending

Inspired by: Still feel. by Half-Alive

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This is mostly inspired by the book, but I had to bring in the woman from the painting in the 2017 movie because it worked so well with the scene.

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Stanley Uris was sitting in the armchair next to their sofa. His wife, Patty Uris, was sitting on said sofa, six shirts of his, two of her blouses, her sewing box and the small container filled with buttons stood next to her as she was watching 'Family Feud'. Stan himself, wasn't all too interested in the show. He preferred reading. Right now, he was reading a book he had just bought a few days ago. It was a horror book, not his usual genre but for some reason the name of the author had sounded so familiar that he had to buy it.

William Denbrough. He couldn't recall ever knowing a man by this name but when he was honest with himself, he couldn't remember most of his past. He had just finished another page when the phone started to ring, loud and obnoxious. Stan, who was sitting right next to the phone, picked it up and answered with his usual "Hello, Stanley Uris speaking."

He listened carefully what the other person was saying, but neither their name, Mike Hanlon as he had introduced himself as, or his voice had sounded familiar. He felt the eyes of his wife on him, wide opened and fearful, by the way his voice was shaking when he replied to the voice.

"Mike!... I wasn't expecting a call from you, how are you?" It was a clear lie and Stan could tell that this Mike guy wasn't buying it, but he just kept talking. Slowly, Stanley stood up and walked over to the window next to the TV, the cord of the phone fully stretched out. Looking out onto the dark street and their perfectly mawned lawn, he could feel Patty's curious but worried eyes on his back, and he exhaled nervously.

"Ok, Mike, I think I understand what you are saying. Yeah... No, I can't promise anything, but I will think about it. You know... What? Of course, I remember everything. Ok... sure... right. See you."

While talking to Mike, he had walked back towards his armchair. With a long sign, he sank into the cushions, placing the phone back onto its usual spot. His gaze was empty as he stared against the wall, right past the TV.

"Who was that?"

"Hmm?" He looked at her absentmindedly, hands gripping the armrest of the chair so hard that he knuckles turned white. "No one..." It was a poor excuse, but Stanley didn't have the willpower to tell his wife about the weird call. "I think I will have a bath..."

"At seven?" Patty laid down the shirt, she was sewing a button on, down. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, a crease formed on her forehead as she scrunched her eyebrows together. Stanley just gave her a wary smile and walked out of the room without saying another word.

He could have taken a bath on the first floor, but that was too close to Patty. The bathroom here was right next to the living room, and something in Stan's heart told him he should bring some space between himself and his wife, so he took the few stairs up to the second floor of their house.

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As the water was running, Stan was standing in front of the bathroom mirror. His hands were clutching the edge of the sink, white cold ceramic pressing into his palms. The black hair of his bangs were sticking sweat soaked to his forehead and his eyes behind those reading glasses, which he started to need a few years ago, seemed glazed. Memories he hadn't remembered in years, parts of his childhood he hadn't even been aware of, were floating in his mind ever since that phone call with Mike.