#1 in 'reddieau'!
eddie kaspbrak has been locked away
for sixteen years now. his only wish is to
see the lights that flash on his birthday
every year. then he meets a boy willing
...
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THE GARDEN!
҉ RICHIE "TRASHMOUTH" TOZIER was notorious in the town of Derry, Maine for his talkative behavior and unusual friendships. His mouth was riddled with curse words and innuendos, which caused everyone around him to gawk and glare. His reputation wasn't the squeakiest due to his friendships that he'd formed; not only was he friends with a poor town girl by the name of Bev Marsh, but he recently made allies with a known thief named Mike Hanlon.
It wasn't shocking that the boy attracted the attention of one Henry Bowers; he was a cliche town bully everyone teased behind his back, but he was breeching psychopathism with how carelessly he'd target any teenage towngoers, spinning his little blade around his fingers and shouting slurs. The only reason the boy hadn't been taken to a mental hospital to help him was because his father was their town's chief of police and every complaint made about the Bowers' son magically disappeared.
On July first, 1999, seventeen year old Richie Tozier was running through the woods near his house, panting heavily as his muddy old boots planted into the dirt soundly, sticks cracking beneath his feet. Sliding down a hill smoothly (read: rolling, standing with twigs stuck in his hair) he got far enough from the shouting 18-year-old to sharply turn to the left, where stones were planted in the ground, partially hidden by moss.
There, panting and heaving as he looked over his shoulder in fear, he could see a little cottage before him no more than ten feet away, hidden partially by trees. Where he stood, hedges rose taller than him, where he stood at 5'10, panting shakily. Behind him he could hear the loud sound of running steps, and he bolted towards the gate which closed off the hedges and tugged it open.
It thumped shut behind him, and his frail and thin body leaned against the white door as he heaved for breath. "Who are you?" He hears, and Richie mumbles an explative. He hadn't considered the fact that there was potentially a person in the closed off area, which he now saw was a well maintained but messy garden. "I said, who are you?" The boy shouts, and his voice is soft and high.
"Uh, hi," Richie says, giving an awkward wave. He notices that the boy is shorter than him, pointing a little gardening tool at him. The boy in question is tanner than Richie is, with rosy cheeks and cute freckles scattered across his face. "I'm... I'm Richie, uh, sorry?" The boy squints at him cutely, tilting his head, hand adorning the shovel not wavering from its pointed position. "Listen, can you, like, lower your weapon, man?" Richie asks, sighing a bit when the boy drops his arm and leaves the shovel hanging at his side.
"Hello, Richie," The boy says to him, brown eyes looking up at the sky for a moment before they move to settle on Rich again. He then reaches his hand out awkwardly. Richie hesitates, and then realizes the boy is prompting a handshake, and he reaches out his own hand and shakes the boy's small one gently. "I'm Eddie," He says slowly, squinting a little bit as he drops his hand, "Why are you in my garden?"
