THE DERRY DISEASE.

An antique metronome clicks on top of Lucille’s piano. The pendulum swinging back and forth provides the only movement in the room save for the flicking flames of lit candles in various corners of the vast room—the first floor of Bob and Lucille’s newly acquired antique shop. The former owner lies in a puddle of his own blood in a backroom Bob had earlier followed him. Lucille and Bob, for now, were afforded the luxury of alone time. Clocks on the wall, all antiques as well, tick away the passing seconds after Lucille had thoroughly answered Mr. Gray’s question. After getting rid of the shop owner, it’s a surprise to Mr. Gray that Lucille still did not find him frightening. Unbothered, Bob Gray shrugs with his mouth and steps around Lucille’s piano bench to take a seat beside her. He sighs when he sits. Bob could tickle the ivories where he sat but he refrains; his hands are caked in blood. Murderous weapons . . . he keeps one hand in his lap but lifts the elbow of his other arm to prop it on top of the piano keys. A handful of clumsy notes play for Lucille’s ears as Bob leans into the piano, resting his murder-tired body against it with his bloody hand balled into a fist now and tucked beneath his temple. He looks at Lucille from an angle.

Pretty, pretty Lucille, raven haired beauty who behaved like a despicable CROW in this moment. The clown’s shaking hand contracts elongated gloved-fingers, forming a balled up fist consequence of It’s plaything refusing to . . . play! ❝  HMMPH, HMMPH, HMMPH!  ❞    The clown gives a childish POUT from outside of Lucille’s bedroom. Spherical bells ornate on the silver clown’s costume give a delightful chime as Pennywise gives a convulsing shake excitedly. It stalked Lucille through a crack in the door. One perverse eye with painted red streak from brow to grin continues to leer at the beauty inside.

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