Pennywise the Clown vs Cthulhu.

Part 1: The Griffith Boy

The rain had let up after pouring for two days. Dian Griffith felt comfortable enough to let her nine year old son, Ryan, outside. It was important that he go outside. Her husband had been drinking heavy today, and she couldn't let their son go to school with anymore bruises.
Little Ryan loved his father. He knew his dad drank to much. He knew when to keep away from him, and he knew his dad frequently hit he and his mother; but mostly his mother.
He knew his dad loved them. He said so, usually after he hurt them. He had to teach them a lesson. Besides, don't all daddies do that?
He wasn't sure what his mother did last week to be punished. His father picked him up from school that day. He drove behind the school where no one passed by. He got into the back seat while Ryan sat up front. Ryan's teacher, Ms. Karol, got in the car in the back with his dad. They started kissing and took off their clothes. It was gross to listen to. Its the same sounds that comes out of his parents bedroom at night. On the way home, his dad told him not to tell his mother. He said he did that to teach her a lesson. But they kept doing that every day.

Water that streamed down the gutters just hours before had slackened now. Faint thunder resounded from the distance. There was a short time when the power went out earlier, now it had come back on meaning other kids could return to their televisions. Ryan would have to entertain himself.
A grey station wagon slowed down as it passed him to keep from splashing him. Not everybody was as courteous. In fact, most people didn't care one way or the other. Ryan didn't either. He didn't mind getting wet.
He had resolved to go to the park just five minutes walk from his home. He was playing with the strings of his hood and hummed to himself as he turned down Nebolt street. This was usually the way he took to get to the park that on this day he would never reach.

Dian had chose a good time, to her thinking, to send Ryan outside. Her husband Richard woke up, stumbling into the kitchen. He appeared upset but didn't say anything. He made his way to the fridge and opened it. His hand reached for a beer but returned empty.
"That's just great." He said slamming the door.
Dian cringed at the sound. She was finishing up the last of the dishes. She was usually able to keep herself occupied with cleaning as to stay out of Richards way whenever he got like this.
Richard walked into the bedroom. He usually had some beer money tucked away in a sock. Dian knew this wasn't going to end well. She had used the money for milk. She even told him. She knew he had forgotten, but that would do nothing to assuage him. There was a loud slam from the dresser and a jostling from the picture frames on top. This was followed by the noise of Richard nocking the pictures to the floor.
"Dian!" He bellowed. "Get your narrow butt in here!"

Ryan stopped in front of a spooky house at the end of Nebolt street. The windows were boarded up, the paint was pealing away. The grass was brown and ornamented by a dead rose bush. The house gave him the willies.
He wondered what kind of people used to live there. He imagined it was some kind of redneck. That's what his dad called people that were poor and missing most of their teeth. Ryan always thought that something bad happened there, like a murder or something.
He turned away from it toward the park. He was suddenly filled with a kind of carnival smell. It smelled like popcorn and French fries with vinegar. It seemed to be coming from the house.
He turned to look again at the house. It was strange, the door was now open. He thought he heard children laughing inside it. The smell was suddenly very strong.
He saw a single red balloon, the same color as his slicker float out of the door and lift up to the porch ceiling.
A voice came out from inside the house. It was really quite a nice voice.
"Hello Ryan." It said. "We got cotton candy, and all sorts of fun things for you in here."
Ryan didn't recognise the voice. Somehow, the person who the voice belonged to knew his name. He cautiously stepped onto the lawn and halted.
"I know you don't want to play by yourself, do you Ryan? There's a whole bunch of kids in here. Some of them are your age. We're gonna have a lot of fun you and I."
He could hear the sound of the circus. The sound of several children laughing, and the friendly voice laughing with them.

Dian was sure that one day Richard would go overboard. She couldn't have prefigured that day would be today. When she entered the bedroom, Richard immediately punched her in the cheek, fracturing her jaw. When she fell to her knees he punched her again, knocking her head against the edge of the door, splitting her head open. He was only getting started.

"If you don't want to come in Ryan, we'll have to find another kid who likes fun. Do you want a balloon?" The voice was intermingled with the sound of circus music and children laughing with glee.
Ryan reached the porch steps. He tried to peer into the house but couldn't see around the corner. Curiosity won out. The park swings and slides would be wet anyways and he wanted to see clowns and eat carnival snacks.
He entered into the house and turned the corner. The door slammed shut behind him.
"They float." The voice said more cruelly.
Where once was the smell of carny food was now a pungent smell of dead things. Flies swarmed his face, biting at his exposed skin. Across the room was a man, a redneck wearing stained clothes and clutching a handful of balloon strings.
"They float little Ryan."
The man approached slowly. His face on one side was rotting with festering soars. His jawbone was completely exposed. Maggots poured out of an empty eye socket and fell from his mouth as it spoke.
"They float, float, and you will too."
The sound of phantom children laughing surrounded Ryan as though the children were right beside him. Ryan swirled around and grasped the door knob. The door wouldn't budge.
He looked frantically back at the man who now was bent with his face just inches from Ryan's. It bared fang like teeth in a mouth wide enough to swallow Ryan's whole head. Children's laughter sounded again but now it came from the gaping mouth.
Ryan could feel the breath smelling like a thousand dead things. Flies covered Ryan's body so that no bit of skin was visible. He screamed and knew no more.

Richard looked down at the corpse of Dian. He had beaten her to death. He would be charged for the death of his wife, and son, whose body was never recovered save for a finger floating in their toilet.