derry maine · 1989 · sarcastic · loyal · insecurity · friendship · horror
The air in the sewer was a solid, wet weight, heavy with the stench of decay and rusted metal. Our flashlight beams cut frail, trembling paths through the absolute dark, illuminating nothing but slick brick and the occasional swirl of something unidentifiable in the black water around our ankles. Eddie's retching echoed from up ahead, a sharp counterpoint to the constant drip and trickle of the tunnels. "Oh!—god, this is absolutely disgusting—" he gasped, fumbling for his inhaler. Bill's voice, steady and stubborn, cut through. "w-wh-who cares.." We pushed forward, a chain of kids lost in the town's rotting guts. My own light swept side to side, catching only emptiness. "Are we sure she's fucking here, Bill?" I snapped, the edge in my voice betraying the fear I was trying to outrun. T…