Pennywise's Neverland

Chapter one: Epilogue.

The air over Derry was thick with the kind of damp chill that gnawed at the bones, an unshakable reminder of the town’s slow decay. Evelyn Barron—a delicate wisp of a girl with hair as golden as her family’s gilded life—walked the streets in the fading daylight, her gloved hands clutching a small, velvet bag filled with sweets, purchased from the finest shop in town. She had slipped from her family’s estate on a whim, bored of her tutors and the lonely halls of her grand but hollow home.

In the distance, the ever-present fog clung to the rooftops, drifting over cracked cobblestone streets and wrapping around decaying wooden houses like a second skin. Derry, with its leaning buildings and muddy alleyways, stood as a testament to both time and neglect. Its streets bustled with townsfolk struggling under heavy coats, their heads down, voices low. Poverty had gripped them so tightly that they barely lifted their eyes from the ground. In such a place, Evelyn’s well-tailored coat and lace-trimmed dress marked her as an anomaly, a shimmer of misplaced luxury against a grim canvas.

---

Just a few streets over, young Georgie Denbrough was already hard at work. His hands, small but calloused from washing dishes at the local inn, were red from the cold as he hefted a crate filled with food scraps meant for a farmer’s hogs. Beside him, his older brother, Bill, taller and leaner, struggled with a similar load. Bill glanced over, his gaze protective despite his boyish grin.

“You’re doing alright there, Georgie?” Bill asked, trying to inject some cheer into his voice, even as the weight of their task pressed down on his shoulders.

Georgie gave a quick nod, though his arms ached, his body still too small to carry much. “Fine,” he said, though a hint of defiance crept into his tone. He was used to this, after all. And he wasn’t about to let Bill see him struggle. This was his way of helping, his way of showing his family that he could pull his weight.

The brothers shared a quiet understanding as they worked, the only sound between them the scrape of crates against stone and the distant rumble of townsfolk finishing their business before nightfall. The streets were crowded, but nobody paid the two boys much mind; they were just part of Derry’s backdrop, faces in a town overrun with hardship.

Above, the clouds hung heavy, threatening rain, casting an oppressive shadow over everything. Georgie and Bill’s route took them near the edges of Derry’s old neighbourhood—a place where children rarely ventured alone. It was here that Evelyn wandered, tugging on her lace gloves as she peered down at the street, almost wistful.

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Evelyn felt the allure of the alley as she passed, the narrow path calling to her with the promise of something forbidden and thrilling. The adults in her life had always warned her against such places—“filthy,” they’d said, and “dangerous.” But wasn’t that what made it enticing? She slipped into the shadowed street, her polished shoes tapping against the uneven cobblestones as she meandered further from sight.

Then she heard it. The faintest sound, a child’s giggle, soft and inviting, echoed from somewhere deeper in the alley, drawing her closer. She paused, glancing around, eyes squinting as the dimness grew, swallowing the last traces of daylight. She could just make out the outline of a storm drain, half-obscured by the mud and grime, and yet there was a strange brightness about it, a pale figure crouching within its depths.

“Hello there,” came a voice, honey-smooth and laced with mischief. A figure took shape in the darkness, a man—or something that wore a man’s form. His face was painted stark white with garish red markings stretching from the corners of his mouth, his eyes large and yellow, fixed on her with an unnatural intensity.

Evelyn took a step back, uncertain, but the stranger extended a hand, a gloved, graceful thing, holding a single pink balloon. “Did you drop this, little lady?” His voice curled around her like smoke, familiar and strange, coaxing her forward even as her heart beat a warning.

The balloon floated towards her, the string drifting gently in the chilly air, brushing against her fingers. She reached out almost without thinking, her curiosity overtaking her sense of caution.

“Would you like to play, Evelyn?” he asked, his voice both warm and wicked. Her name falling from his lips felt like an invitation, a promise, and a threat.

A flicker of fear crossed her face, but the clown's eyes softened, shifting in colour, drawing her in with a comforting gleam. “Come on,” he murmured, “I have more balloons. You like pink, don’t you?”

Entranced, Evelyn stepped closer, the world around her blurring until all she could see was his painted face, that wide, red-lipped smile stretching unnaturally far. The shadows seemed to deepen around them, swallowing the faint sounds of the bustling town behind her, cocooning them in a private, dreadful silence.

---

By the time the alarm was raised, night had fallen, and Evelyn Barron was nowhere to be found.

It was Bill who heard the first whispers, townsfolk murmuring about a girl gone missing. He tugged on Georgie’s sleeve, worry flashing in his eyes. “Did you hear? Someone’s gone,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as if speaking too loudly might bring the same fate upon them.

Georgie felt a chill creep up his spine, though he shook it off, unwilling to believe in the stories adults told. But as they made their way back home, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the evening pressing down on them, the shadows around them growing darker, as if the very soul of Derry had drawn a sharp, greedy breath.

They didn’t know it yet, but Evelyn’s disappearance marked the beginning of something ancient awakening in Derry.