Denial
july
this was wrong
it was all wrong. it just wasn’t empirically possible.
kids didn’t disappear because of some malevolent force in the sewers, no way. the losers weren’t really traipsing through the gray water, as eddie called it, to their certain death.
they weren’t being chased by a maniac with a knife who, just hours earlier had slid the blade out, cutting through his father’s throat like butter. they weren’t standing in a circle and he didn’t feel claws creeping up his back, he was holding richie’s hand and
(i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country i will do my best)
and
why was he holding richie’s hand again?
it didn’t matter. soon he would wake up in bed back at home, this is a bad dream, a bad bad bad dream. and what happened to bad dreams? they become a distant memory. after this they would be starting sixth grade soon, a whole new school, a new start. then high school, and college and it’s onto a new life in a new state maybe and this wouldn’t matter
oh staaaaan
stanley boy
He shut his eyes tight
(oh please no don’t let those be hands gripping my shoulders don’t let that don’t let)
The wall was cold against Stan’s back and he could feel his shirt sticking to his skin. Strong hands held him up by the collar and he was overwhelmed with the stench of death. He could just barely make out his friends screaming and-
eater of worlds, and of children
He opened his eyes to see It staring back at him, It the unknown,feeding off his fear with its razor sharp teeth. He stared back and saw the deep light and
he
was
floating
it was all wrong. it just wasn’t empirically possible.
kids didn’t disappear because of some malevolent force in the sewers, no way. the losers weren’t really traipsing through the gray water, as eddie called it, to their certain death.
they weren’t being chased by a maniac with a knife who, just hours earlier had slid the blade out, cutting through his father’s throat like butter. they weren’t standing in a circle and he didn’t feel claws creeping up his back, he was holding richie’s hand and
(i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country i will do my best)
and
why was he holding richie’s hand again?
it didn’t matter. soon he would wake up in bed back at home, this is a bad dream, a bad bad bad dream. and what happened to bad dreams? they become a distant memory. after this they would be starting sixth grade soon, a whole new school, a new start. then high school, and college and it’s onto a new life in a new state maybe and this wouldn’t matter
oh staaaaan
stanley boy
He shut his eyes tight
(oh please no don’t let those be hands gripping my shoulders don’t let that don’t let)
The wall was cold against Stan’s back and he could feel his shirt sticking to his skin. Strong hands held him up by the collar and he was overwhelmed with the stench of death. He could just barely make out his friends screaming and-
eater of worlds, and of children
He opened his eyes to see It staring back at him, It the unknown,feeding off his fear with its razor sharp teeth. He stared back and saw the deep light and
he
was
floating