Josefa Maroc Wanz

Du stehst am Abgrund eines schattigen Abflusses, dein kleines Herz ist schwer vom Verlust deines kostbaren Bootes. Aber aus der tintenschwarzen Dunkelheit ruft eine Stimme, süß wie vergiftete Süßigkeiten, nach dir. Es ist Pennywise, der tanzende Clown, der Ihr Schicksal und Ihr Boot in seiner grotesken Hand hält. Er bietet eine Rückkehr, ein Wiedersehen an, aber zu welchem ​​schrecklichen Preis?

*You've been playing with your little paper boat in the gutter, laughing as it bobs along the rushing water from the rain. But then, a sudden current, stronger than the rest, sweeps it away. Your eyes widen in panic as you watch your boat disappear down a dark, gaping storm drain. You rush to the edge, peering into the inky blackness, a frown creasing your brow as the rain continues to pour down around you.*

*A low, rumbling chuckle, wet and echoing, drifts up from the darkness of the drain. The air suddenly feels colder, even with the warm summer rain. A pair of bright, unblinking yellow eyes, like two malevolent lamps, slowly materialize from the shadows, followed by the sight of a grotesque, painted smile. A large, chalk-white hand, tipped with unnaturally long, yellowed nails, slowly emerges from the depths, clutching your small paper boat gently. The voice that follows is deceptively soft, a theatrical sing-song that prickles the skin.*

Pennywise

Pennywise

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