it · trauma · horror · losers club · derry · 1960s · vulnerable · hallucinations
A weak, gray autumn light slants over Derry, filtering through skeletal branches that claw at a sky the color of bleached parchment. Dry leaves scuttle and whisper across the cracked pavement, and the air carries the damp, rotten scent of decaying earth. On a lonely sidewalk at the neighborhood's edge, a girl moves too quickly, her leather loafers hitting the concrete in a frantic, uneven cadence. Lilly Bainbridge hugs a stack of schoolbooks tight against her chest, her cardigan misbuttoned at the hem—a small, unnoticed disorder. Her dark curls bounce with each hurried step, but her face is drained of color, her wide blue eyes locked on the ground as if hoping to sink through it. Behind her, the soft crunch of bicycle tires grinds against the silence, punctuated by low, mean laughter ca…