It II

Stuttering Bill says Goodbye

         It was a somber day when they lowered Audra Philpot-Denbrough into her grave. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It looked like it was going to rain. It held no comparison to the hurricane that flooded Bill Denbrough's heart. He stood there, holding his daughters hand as she cried into his shoulder, and looked down onto his wife's’ expensive coffin. Why spend all that money on a coffin? It was just going to rot in the ground. Oh, how that led to wonderful thoughts.
         The preacher went on and on about what a wonderful person Audra had been, and how she was now looking down on them from heaven. Had he even known Audra? Bill couldn’t remember. Alyssa, his and Audra's eighteen year old daughter, sunk into the folding chair someone had kindly set up behind her.
         William Denbrough, the respected horror writer, father, and now widower, felt tears begin to course down his cheeks as well. ‘Not like this, Audra.’ He thought, ‘Not now...’

         That night, Alyssa sat on the back patio of their house in South Carolina with her sketchbook. Since she was small, creative art had been what she loved. She even planned to use her talents to get into college. Now, however, she was not drawing, but staring at a blank page.
         “Got artists block?” Bill asked, stepping out and sitting down next to her.
         “Just a little,” She replied. “I’m trying to draw this thing I keep dreaming about but I don’t really know what it looks like.” She looked out at the sunset cresting over the trees.
         “How long have you been dreaming about it?” He asked her, popping open a beer.
         “A few months now. I started to right before-” She stopped.
         ‘Right before your Mom got sick. Say it Lyss, Right before she got sick.’ Bill thought, but said instead, “Have you ever seen it and just can’t remember what it looks like?”
         “That’s the problem,” Alyssa replied. “I never see what this thing is, just something to represent it.”
         “Well, what represents it?” He asked, curiosity growing.
         “A clown,” She replied. “A dancing, laughing clown,” And she shivered.

Mike Hanlon Goes Back to School

         Michael Hanlon walked in the front doors of Derry High, seething. Whatever that boy had done this time... ASIDE from the fact that he was supposed to be a Senior this year.
         Mike poked his head into the main office. The secretaries nodded, a few even waved. They knew him. He continued the familiar journey to the Disciplinary Officials office (when he was in high school, they saw the principal) and wondered how he had managed to get such a terror of a son. It must come from Eva’s side of the family.
         Mike turned the corner and there sat James Hanlon right outside the Disciplinary Officials office. Mike shook his head. James was covered in something that resembled... silly string maybe? Mike walked up to him and James smiled. The smile fell off his face, however, when he saw his fathers frown. When his father looked like that he must be in trouble.
         “What did you do this time James?” Mike asked him.
         “I... er, well see I...”
         “Just spit it out Jimmy.” Mike said, exasperated.
         “I rigged silly string cans over a couple of the doors in the cafeteria to go off when people opened the doors. They just went off a little prematurely.” Mike knew his son well enough to know that when he said “a couple” he meant all, and when he said “a little prematurely” he meant that he had forgotten to assure himself an escape route.
         “Jimmy... really.” Mike said, unsure of where to go. Honestly, he found the whole idea at least as funny as his son did, probably more. “You have to stop it with the practical jokes. And you and I both know your mom’s going to have a baby hippo.”
         “Well... I thought maybe you could... you know...”
         “No I couldn’t.” Mike told him. “James the school has run out of punishments for you!!”
         “I get to clean it up.” I replied, slumping over.
         “All the better. Now some poor old janitor won’t have to do it. James, you’re eighteen years old, could you please try to start acting like it?”
         James nodded. “Um.. Dad?”
         “Hm?” Mike asked.
         “A baby hippo?”
         Mike threw his head back and laughed. At least someone tried to understand his jokes.
         James gave a half hearted laugh along with him, then became quiet and thoughtful. “Hey, Dad?”
         “Yeah Jimmy?”
         “How do you feel about clowns?”
         “Never really liked them for some reason, why? You wanting one for your birthday?”
         Jimmy snorted, “I just..” Then he paused. “I’ve been having these really weird dreams about a clown recently is all.” The Disciplinary Official stuck her head out of her office and announced that she was ready to see them now.

         Erik Hanlon pulled himself off of the couch. Someone had called from the high school and Dad had left in a huff, hollering about it being his day off. That could only mean that Jimmy had done something again.
         Erik walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. After mulling over the contents for nearly five minutes, he pulled out an ice cold coke. Popping it open, he went back to the couch and turned on the TV. Hollywood news. Gossip News, his mother called it. He watched it for a few minutes, nothing too interesting. Some actress who hadn't worked in nearly ten years had died. The station showed a picture of William Denbrough, the actress’s husband, standing next to his daughter, who they didn’t name.
         Erik hadn’t cared a pinch about the whole thing until they showed the writers daughter. She had looked so sad.
         And for some reason, she made him think of those dreams he’d been having about the clown.

Ben & Bev loose their minds

         It was around one o’clock am in the Hanscom household when Benjamin and Beverly were awoken by a loud crash from downstairs. Ben, thinking someone was breaking in, grabbed his baseball bat and trudged down the stairs making dire threats at whoever it may be. It turned out however, to be their son, Shane. He had been out partying with some friends. Now he was home, and he seemed to have forgotten the geography of the house they had lived in for nearly ten years.
         Bev turned on a light and looked down at her son. Shane squinted his eyes and looked at her as though he had never seen her before. It was simple what was wrong with him. The boy was drunk off his ass.
         Beverly looked down at her son who was struggling to stand after tripping over the end table. He had cut his leg on glass from the light bulb (the crash they’d heard), and he had vomit down the front of his shirt. Beverly felt the strength leaving her legs and she sunk to the floor. ‘Not again.’ She though. ‘Not again, it was supposed to be over.’
         Ben grabbed his son’s arm and pulled him up. The he practically tossed him onto the couch. They met each others eyes for a moment, then Shane shifted and threw up in the floor.
         Beverly opened her mouth to say something, but Shane fell off the front of the couch, unconscious. She jumped up to check if he was okay, but Ben stopped her.
         “He’s not going to drown in it,” He grabbed her arm and began to lead her upstairs. “I cannot wait till he’s sober.”
         Beverly looked back at her nineteen year old son who was unconciouss in a puddle of his own vomit, and for once she was inclined to agree.

         Shane wasn’t awake until eleven o’clock the next morning, and right away he wished he was dead. His mother was running the vacuum cleaner right by his head. He stood up, ignoring how his shirt tried to stick to the floor, and walked up the stairs. In his room, he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water was a joy.
         When he was done, he got dressed which was a joy as well since his clothes no longer smelled of vomit. Walking past his brothers room, he caught a piece of some tune or another that Brian was playing on his guitar. ‘But did Mom and Dad ever buy me that drum set that I wanted? No . . .’ He though to himself.
         Thankfully his mother was done with the vacuum. Unfortunately his father had started up with the blender. Shane endured it while he was loading the coffee maker, then shouted, “DAD!! Could you chill!!”
         “Oh, I’m sorry Shane.” Ben yelled back, turning the blender up higher. “Am I being to loud?”
         Shane covered his ears and backed away without turning the coffee pot on. “I get it, okay? STOP!!”
         Ben was not going to stop. Ho boy. He was just getting started. He pulled out a couple of pots and banged them together until Shane was curled up in the floor nearly in tears.
         Brian had come downstairs to find out what the commotion was and was appalled to see his big brother, whom he worshiped, curled up in the floor crying because of a hangover. Brian wasn’t stupid. He knew Shane had a drinking problem, but it had never taken his parents this far before. He calmly went back upstairs, knowing that he would be sent up anyway if he stayed.
         “You!,” Ben began leaning over to yell in his sons ear, “Are going to stop drinking! Or you will no longer be welcome in this house! Is that clear?”
         Shane looked up into his fathers eyes, shocked. Brian froze in the hallway. Bev gasped. Something registered in Shane’s eyes.
         “FINE!!” He screamed. Ben took a step back. Brian came running. He peered in from the stairway. “I’m leaving!!” He stomped up the stairs, almost running his brother over.
         In the middle of packing his suitcase, he looked through the doorway that had linked his room to his brothers since they were little. Brian was packing too.
         “Brian, what are you doing?” He asked.
         “I’m going with you.” He replied without looking up.
         “No your not.”
         “Uhh, yes I am.”
         “Brian!! NO YOUR NOT!! I’m not looking after some little kid!!” Shane immediately felt bad for what he said, the hurt in his brothers eyes was immeasurable. Brian however, kept packing.
         Beverly walked into Shane’s room, maybe to talk some sense into him, and when she didn’t see him it was automatic to look into Brian’s room. “Brian NO!”
         “Yes Mamma.”
         “He can go when he wants, he’s old enough. You are seventeen! You can’t just leave!” She nearly shrieked.
         “What happened?” Ben asked, racing up the stairs. He looked at Brian. “No.”
         Brian snapped his guitar case shut. “I’m ready when you are Shane.”
         Shane stood there for a moment, then nodded his head. He went back to his room and finished his packing.
         Beverly pleaded with Brian, while Ben threatened him all the way out to Shane's car. They loaded their stuff into the trunk and climbed into the front seat. The neighbors were staring.
         “Love you.” Brian said, and Shane pulled out of the driveway, trying his best to ignore the sound of his mother, sobbing in his fathers arms.

         At the third stoplight, Brian cleared his throat, “So where are we going?”
         Shane thought about it for only a second. “Maine.”
         Brian paled. “W-whats in Maine?”
         “Derry.” Shane replied.
         They didn’t have a conversation about it, no it would not be very masculine to have a conversation if something was bothering you, but Brian could tell something was bothering Shane. He was smoking a lot more than usual. Shane could tell there was something wrong with Brian. He was tapping and biting his nails. He never bit his nails. Nails are better to pluck guitar strings with.
         Deep inside, in a place neither of them could quite see, they knew what was bothering the other. It was those dreams. The ones with the clown.

Richie Goes Off the Air

         Richie Tozier walked into is fathers radio station headquarters and was shocked by the bedraggled look on his face. “Dad...” He hurried up to him, “What’s wrong?”
         Rich pulled his son into his office and shut the door. He pulled his coke bottle lenses off and rubbed his eyes. “We’re being taken off the air.” he muttered through almost closed lips.
         Richie felt his heart sink. Off the Air? They might as well be dead. Alan wasn’t going to take it well.

         “Off the... We’re going what?” Alan Tozier asked.
         “Off the air.” Rich told him. “I’m sorry.”
         Alan sunk down onto the couch and took a deep breath. Breathing, yes, that was good. “Why?”
         Rich just looked at him. Alan knew the answer to that question. Ratings were down, people didn’t want good music anymore, they wanted new music. Most people didn’t want to listen to Little Richard or Chuck Berry anymore. They wanted the Linkin Park’s and the Incubus’s. Alan, Richie knew, was heartbroken.
         “I can get you a job at another station Alan,” Rich started.
         “Forget it.” He sighed and walked out onto the patio. Rich followed him.
         “I’m sorry Alan.” He said, leading against the railing next to his oldest son.
         “It’s alright Dad.” Alan replied. “Hey Dad. Can we go to the cabin up in Derry?”
         Rich was silent for a moment, then replied, “Yes. Just as soon as I clear stuff up.”
         “Thanks Dad.”
         He nodded then walked into the house. Richie passed him on his way out to stand with his brother. “Did you tell him about the dreams?” Richie asked.
         “No.” Alan replied. “But I asked if we could go to Derry.”
         “What did he say?” Richie knew his dad was reluctant to go to his childhood home even though he had a cabin in the woods there.
         “As soon as he gets stuff straightened out with the station we’re going.” Alan told him. “I’m not sure I want to though. Not after those dreams.”
         “I...” Richie paused and lowered his voice. “I had a dream about a clown last night.”
         Alan’s eyes darted to him. “What do you mean?”
         “An old style clown, with the greasepaint and everything.”
         “What was it doing?”
         “Laughing... and... and dancing.” Richie muttered, almost like he was drunk, and shuddered.

Alyssa Dreams of Doom

         There wasn’t much light and it stank like a sewer. Alyssa crawled her way through the tunnel and came to a small door. The door had a black rose painted onto it.
         Alyssa pushed the door open and squeezed through. Just inside was a sign that read, Derry, Maine 110 mi. She reached out to touch it and it rusted and collapsed before her eyes.
         A strong wind nearly knocked her off her feet, and with it it brought the smell of death and decay.
         She staggered to her feet and pushed on. She reached a big open cavern and something began moving towards her in the darkness. She turned and the was a balloon floating in front of her. She watched as it grew bigger and bigger and then popped. For a moment, she thought it was a water balloon, but then she realized the unthinkable. It had been filled with someone's blood, and now she was covered in it!!
         She shrieked and backed up. ‘Not real Alyssa, not real!’ Her brain screamed at her, ‘It’s stage blood, like mom showed you that one time.’ But she knew that wasn’t true. She could smell it, and taste it.
         Alyssa looked up from her blood covered hands and saw a clown, honking his nose and laughing at her.
         “Ring around the roses pocket full of poppies!” He sang and danced in a circle. “Want some POPPIES my dear?” He asked, and threw the red flowers at her. She gasped and all at once felt sleepy. She started to sink to the ground, trying to fight it.
         And then there was a bell. She thought that... maybe it she moved towards the bell, she would be alright. She tried forcing her waning consciousness towards the bell.
         “Oh, but come back!! We were having so much FUN!! Come back Lyssa!!” The clown cried, and then she was in her bedroom, scrambling to shut off her alarm clock.
         She stretched and went downstairs. Her dad was nursing a cup of hot coffee. She sat down next to him with a glass of milk and asked, “You grew up in Maine, right?”
         “Till I was about twelve, yes. Why?”
         “Was it pretty there?”
         “Never seen a prettier sunset anywhere else in my life. Why?”
         “I want to travel on my own this summer and do some drawing on the road. Kind of my last hooraw before college. I was just wondering if I would find good things to draw there.”
         “I’m sure you could. Derry has some pretty rich history.”
         She leaned over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks Daddy. Want some pancakes?”

         She left the next day, traveling north from South Carolina where her parents had decided to settle, where her mother was born. She stopped to draw in the Outer Banks and in the Colonial area of eastern Virginia. She never stayed long though, just overnight, long enough to see the sights. The dreams never stopped, and the closer she got to Derry, the more she thought she was having them for a reason, and every time she had those thoughts, she pushed them out of her head and kept drawing.

Erik Reads a Book and Jimmy Drops Out

         Erik put his book down. It was a reissued hardback called The Black Rapids, by a man named William Denbrough. The book was fascinating, but very dark and gloomy, and all the kids in it were always getting into some kind of terrifying situation. But more importantly, he had found out that the writers daughters name was Alyssa, it said so on the back jacket. It also said the William Denbrough had grown up in Derry, right there in his hometown.
         “NO!” His father thundered upstairs. “You will NOT!! What about your education?”
         “Michael...” Eva, his mother started.
         “What about your future?”
         “Dad...” Jimmy tried.
         “NO NO NO!!!” Mike yelled. “I forbid it!”
         “You CAN’T forbid it!!” Jimmy finally yelled back. “Sure, you can kick me out, but you can’t forbid it, I’m eighteen. I already filled out the papers.”
         Mike sunk down onto Jimmy’s bed. “James... you can’t drop out of school...”
         “I’m going to be a mechanic dad, and I’ve already taken calculus and physics. I don’t need anymore school. All I do there is get in trouble, and I just plain hate it.”
         Erik leaned on the door frame. Mike looked at him, “Did you know about this?”
         “About what?” Erik asked.
         “Your brother dropping out of school?”
         “No.” He replied. “Not officially anyways. I kind of thought he might though.”
         “And you didn’t tell us?”
         “I figured you knew too.”
         Mike nodded. Smart ol’ Erik, always knew stuff before everyone else, and kept them to himself because he figured they knew them too. Mike turned to Jimmy.
         “I want you to go to every garage in town and ask for an apprenticeship, and you, Mr., are getting your GED whether you want it or not.”
         James nodded. He knew he would not be able to talk his father out of this, and it would probably be a good thing to have. So, the next morning when all of his friends were sitting in first period drooling up at their teachers, he set out to find his apprenticeship.

The Tozier boys take a trip

         When it came down to it, Alan and Rich ended up packing and boarding the plane to Maine alone. Their father claimed to just have to much to do with the station changing hands and all, but he always acted like that when they suggested the Derry House. Their mother stayed with him, afraid to leave him alone when he was so high strung, so, off to Maine they went.
         Rich was eager to get there. It was no where near hunting season, but that’s where they kept all of their hunting weapons, and he could surely get in some target practice. He paged through a hunting magazine that he’s brought with him while his brother read the new Denbrough novel. Kisses from the Shadows it was called. After thumbing through the first few pages he had gathered that it was a vampire book. He’d always liked Anne Rice, so he figured he’d give that one a shot when Alan was done.
         He closed his magazine and leaned his head back. It was getting dark out and the clouds were pink like cotton candy. He fell asleep so slowly he didn’t even feel it happen. When he opened his eyes, his brother was still reading. ‘The guy in front of me must have traded seats with someone while I was asleep.’ Rich thought. This new guy had brilliant red hair and it wasn’t the natural kind. It looked like the kind of wig a vain old lady would wear to cover up her gray.
         Rather suddenly the person turned around. Rich gasped. His face was covered with white greasepaint and it’s lips were painted red with what looked like blood. The only un-clown-like thing about it were it’s eyes. They were solid black.
         “Done with your MAGAZINE?” It rasped and laughed, exposing white fangs where there should have been teeth, “BOO!!”
         Rich awoke with a gasp and a start. His eyes darted up to the seat in front of him to be sure there was no clown and he pinched himself to make sure he was awake. No more cotton candy clouds for me. He looked over at his brother who was snoring softly and then to the pretzels that had been left for him. He opened the bag and poured five pretzel sticks out into his hand. “Yum, yum.” he muttered and began munching on one of them. This flight was going to last way to long. He ate his five, unsalted pretzels , and drank his The Best Water!, and wondered what his brother might be dreaming about.

         Alan took a deep respite. He had been crawling through these stupid tunnels for hours and didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. ‘There must be a labyrinth somewhere on this plane.’ He thought to himself. Then he laughed. A labyrinth on an airplane. Still, it was beginning to look likely.
         He turned another corner and a hot blast of sewer air blew his blonde hair around his head. He came to a open cavern where he could stand and found that there was a small door. On that door was painted a double barrel shotgun. He shuddered, but opened the door anyways.
         Just inside were the bones of small children and animals; some still had rotting flesh on them. Alan turned around and threw up. It didn’t matter what had drawn him to this terrible place, he was leaving. He turned and was nearly to the door when, “Aaaalllan....” Someone said from behind him.
         He froze, his mind unable to believe what he was hearing. There couldn’t be another person here, could here? He turned slowly, seemingly against his own will and screamed. There was a clown here. He was smiling through his grease paint. “Alan, Alan, bo ballan, banana fanna fo fahllen!!” It shrieked and laughed, honking its nose. “I want you to meet my friends!”
         Alan heard barking behind him and a dozen or so dogs ran past him. He took a few steps backwards as they began eating the bones of the dead children. He stumbled over a rock that seemed to have just appeared out of the floor and there, on the ceiling, was a sign for a place called the Aladdin. It was announcing the return of the All Dead Show with Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, John Lennon, Keith Moon, Frank Zappa, Buddy Holly, and many more!, With your All Dead Host’s Richie and Alan Tozier!!
         Alan narrowed his eyes and gasped. He then screamed squeezing his eyes shut.
         His eyes flew open and he was looking at his brother. Rich was eating a pretzel stick and drinking The Best Water!. Rich was also looking a bit worried. “You okay Alan?” He asked.
         “Yeah,” He replied. “Something wrong?”
         “Well you were sitting there muttering ‘I’m not dead, I’m not dead, I’m not dead.’ I thought I should probably wake you up.”
         “Oh, thanks.” Alan replied. ‘Damn clown.’ he thought.

To be continued . . .