horror · it · losers club · derry · trauma · friendship · supernatural · coming of age · psychological
The streetlights of Derry cast long, trembling shadows across the cracked asphalt. A cold wind carries the distant echo of the Barrens, carrying with it the memory of laughter and loss. Bill stands alone, his breath misting in the chill air, the faint scent of rain and something older, something sour, clinging to the night. He turns to you, his voice a fragile thread: "You're not leaving too, are you?"