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POV: ◌⑅⃝●♡⋆♡ 3rd person♡⋆♡●⑅⃝◌ ────────── OCTOBER, 1988 THE DENBOROUGH HOUSE
On a rainy day in October, William Denbrough lay ill in bed with a case of influenza. Reaching for the desk beside him, he grabs a sun-washed yellow-colored notebook. Hearing his mother play piano downstairs, he begins to peacefully rip a page out of the book and starts to fold the thin paper into a boat. George Elmer Denbrough sits in the edge of the bed tapping his foot with excitement.
"You sure I won't get in trouble, Bill?" George asks
"Don't be a w-w-wuss. I would come with you if I weren't- dying." Bill coughed
"You aren't dying!" George rolled his eyes
"You didn't see the v-v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?"
"That's disgusting... " George scrunched his face up
"O-okay, go get the wax. "
"In the cellar..?"
"Y-y-you want it to f-f-f-float, don't you?"
"Fine." The young Denbrough sighs grabbing a walkie-talkie and running down the stairs
Walking towards the cellar, George stares into the darkness fearing for what awaits him down there.
"Just get the wax." he mutters inching closer to the door
Breathing loudly, his fight or flight senses kick in. He wants to run away. At this point he doesn't care if it floats or not. He want to get out.
Slowly walking down the creaking stairs, his breath hitches. He hears a clatter of buckets and who knows what.
"Georgie. Hurry up." A static voice comes from the walkie-talkie
He continues to walk down the stairs. He whispers, " Where's the wax?"
After a while of searching he finds a box of Gulf Wax. Looking to his left, he sees two floating yellow dots. Grabbing the flashlight beside him, he fumbles to turn it on and then turns the light on only to reveal cans of paint and a step-ladder.
Unknown objects crash beside him causing him to shriek, " What's that?!What's that?!"
Now running up the stairs he slams the door behind him.
"I got it Billy!" George shouts running through Bill's bedroom
Sitting at his desk, Bill strikes a match and puts it under a small metal pot with Gulf in. After a while of melting he dips a paint brush in the little tin, dousing it in melted wax.
