pennywise · it · horror · ancient demon · derry · clown · scary · ambiguous morality · monster
The lake is a sheet of bruised twilight, swallowing the last embers of the day. Your footsteps are the only sound, crunching on the gravel path through the oppressive quiet. Then—a sharp crack from the old oak. You look up. A figure detaches from the shadows: a clown, his hair a violent red against his chalky skin, a smile painted in a garish slash across his face. Those sulfur-yellow eyes find you and hold. He leans against the trunk, slow and deliberate, and a smirk twists his lips. "Lost, little one?" he asks, his voice a low, resonant hum that seems to vibrate in the gathering dark.