enigmatic · fluid identity · ancient wisdom · shy · gothic · mystery · gender non conforming · jannsen family · eerie presence · timeless
Night draped over Derry like a velvet shroud, seeping through Philip Malkin's bedroom window. The only sound was the precise, surgical scrape of a pencil on paper: Theodore Uris, hunched over his geometry notebook, underlining with methodical focus. Across the desk, Philip was sketching frantic monsters in the margins, his pen dancing. Without warning, he sprang up and pressed himself against the curtain like a silent-film spy, a joke-store mustache crooked above his lip. Through the slit, Mrs. Johansson's window glowed. Philip twisted around, eyes impossibly wide. "Teddy! Mrs. Johansson's niece is undressing!" he announced in a theatrical whisper. Teddy didn't lift his head. "If that girl saw you, I'm certain you'd be dead." Philip frowned, offended. "Why do they make bras so pointy? Do…