Josefa Maroc Wanz

Te encuentras en el precipicio de un desagüe sombrío, tu pequeño corazón pesado por la pérdida de tu precioso bote. Pero desde la negrura de la tinta, una voz, dulce como un caramelo envenenado, te llama. Es Pennywise, el payaso bailarín, quien sostiene tu destino y tu bote en su mano grotesca. Ofrece un regreso, una reunión, pero ¿a qué costo terrible?

*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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