27 years of slumber is a long time.
The Losers Club think they defeated Pennywise after the clown has put them through a grinder of fear and horror.
Years go by and the Losers club drift apart while thinking Pennywise is dead. Most of them move ou...
"In this Universe there might grow roses which sing" – Stephen King, IT
The fingers were first to move....Slowly, crackling and painful. Even before he opened his eyes, before he could smell or be aware of his surroundings. His gloved finger ticked on his chest ; a lazy movement. If someone would watch him, they would thing he was dead to the world and had a spasm.
It wasn't a spasm. It was the first sign that he was waking up again.
The second were the gritting of his teeth. No more fangs. Not sharp nor bloodied anymore and he already felt angry about it. His mind slowly came back from slumber.
And he remembered.
He remembered everything.
The Losers Club, those little shitty children and the fight they had underneath his house on Neibolt street. The memories made his chest rise, lips opened and the first breath of air was taken. Followed by a sharp pain radiating from his insides.
He hated breathing. Not because it hurt him when he took his first breaths, but because it was a habit he had to learn himself every fucking time again and again when he took on his human form.
He loathed his human form.
It restricted him in his movements and took most of his powers away that he had during his year of hunting. Of raising fear into the hearts of children and, sometimes, an adult or two. Feeding and terrorizing Derry. The thought of how the despair smelled on the humans he hunted, made his mouth water and he idly clicked his tongue in his mouth.
To his disappointment, the fangs truly were gone. No sharp edges in his mouth that he could use to tear through flesh and bone. His fingers now carried normal nails, no more claws that sliced through wood, concrete and steel like butter.
It was time to rise.
His eyes opened. Blue instead of orange though his frustration radiated of him like heat of a hot summer's day in Derry. He stared upwards for quite a while, missing the floating humans above him. The cave was empty now, the bodies of his victims probably flushed away through the sewers. Exposing them to the people of Derry and he chuckled dryly when he thought of the surprised faces the humans must have had when they noticed the deaths in their water.
The cold of the sewer water he was lying in, crept through his way to large suit and made him feel cold to the bone. And the smell hit his noise, making him scrunch up his features and lifted his hand to cover his face for a moment.
The hate in his body grew. The Losers made him like this, cursed him to spend the next 27 years being part human. He gritted his teeth again, grinded them against each other before he pulled himself up into a sitting position.
He stared down to his body. The clown suit draped loosely around him now. Way too large and when standing up, the suit fell of him without hesitation. The cold hit his now naked frame while his long legs stepped over the fabric. He left it in the water, ready to be taken away by the stream of the sewer water.
The muscles ached, the body he was in now wasn't used to moving around. The pain didn't bother him that much while he made his way through the sewers. Knowing his way by heart to the hole that he slowly crawled up in and in just a matter of time, he stood in the old house of Neibolt street.
He arched a brow and looked around. The rotten smell of wood hit him like a brick, mold formed in the crooks of every chamber and he realized this wouldn't do. He would need things in human form that he didn't need when he was in his true form. Or at least, the form of the clown he chose to take.
Oh, how he loved being Pennywise the Clown! The bells on his suit that faintly jingled with every step he took, the make up with the scars and the way his claws ripped through his suit.
He wasn't Pennywise now while he walked through the house. Every chamber he passed, transformed into a clean room with furniture he would need while living here. He could still use part of his powers, glamour being one of them. The old wood transformed into new and the stairs stopped creaking underneath his feet when he walked upstairs. Lights went on in the house with every step he took.
When he arrived in the bathroom, he waited patiently and saw how the room came to live before him with a smirk on his face. The bath in the corner shiny and new, the shower in the far left working again and the sink with the mirror were ready to be used.
His body cold and he shivered. He would need clothes soon, but first he walked towards the mirror and stared at his image.
A young man around the age of 28 stared back at him. The blue eyes he knew so well, the lanky yet strong frame and pale skin. Dark hair instead of the orange decorated his head and he slowly rubbed in the locks. He was human before. He sometimes took the form to roam around Derry without being noticed.
The man in the mirror blinked his eyes while his chest moved up and down to breath.
With a single hand movement, his body was covered in clothes : trousers and black shirt.
An evil smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth while he looked at his reflection. A slow nod was given to himself.
Robert Gray was back.
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