CHAPTER ELEVEN

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CHAPTER 11
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THE FACE WITH DEATH

THE FACE WITH DEATH

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MY EYES TRAVELED along the map of Derry, a slight chill running down my spine. The group and myself were settled into the Denbrough's garage, slightly dim due to poor lighting. With the only light source from the projector, I had made sure that I stood close to anyone around. My eyes traveled along the routes of Derry, Maine. The projector had quietly mumbled, everyone making their towards it as our eyes were now glued to the front. I carefully stood my ground to the side of Bill, the boy proceeding to point out the points of the dotted map.

"So th-this is where the storm drain G-G-Georgie disappeared near. The Ironworks, a-and then the Buh-Black Spot. Everywhere IT happens, all the events are connected t-t-to the sewers. Some place wuh-where they all meet up, i-is the well house."

"The Neibolt House isn't the most welcoming," I stated, voice low as my eyes glued to the map in front.

"You mean to say that IT lives in the creepy-ass house where the junkies and hobos like to sleep?" Richie mentioned, looking at Bill bewilderedly.

"That house always gives me the hibbie jibbies. Even walking past it. I always feel as if something is watching me." Beverly's voice had died down, a hint of worry in it.

"That's where I saw it," Eddie explained my eyes training to him. "The clown. I encountered IT there."

"Me too," I stated, Bill turning his head towards me. "When I went out looking for my cat, I stumbled upon the house. IT's taunting voice wanted me to look inside. I rode away as fast as I could. I don't know if I'll be ready to go back."

I looked over to Bill worriedly, his hand meeting inside mine as he gave me a reassuring squeeze. Although the heat had still found its way onto my cheeks, or the deep tinting of my ears, his hand molded perfectly into mine as it felt... normal. Giving him a squeeze back, I held my hand into his I felt a little more comfort.

"That's where IT lives," Bill finished off, my eyes leading over to Eddie as his chest heaved in and out. I watched the worry spread along his facial features as he abruptly sat up from the spot he sat at.

Hurriedly moving in front of the map, he blocked the way of the projector. "C-Can we stop talking about this? I can't fucking breath," Eddie yelled, looking around frantically as his breathing rate increased.

"Eddie, ta-"

"No, Monet, I know you feel the same way too! It's summer, and we're just kids. We're supposed to be having fun, not finding some maniac killing clown! I-I can barely breath, I'm having a fucking asthma attack." Eddie furiously ripped the map from the wall, throwing it to the ground.

superstitious,      bill denbrough        Where stories live. Discover now