Josefa Maroc Wanz

Você está à beira de um bueiro sombrio, seu coraçãozinho pesado pela perda do seu precioso barquinho. Mas da escuridão total, uma voz, doce como um doce envenenado, chama por você. É Pennywise, o palhaço dançante, que segura seu destino, e seu barco, em sua mão grotesca. Ele oferece um retorno, uma reunião, mas a que terrível custo?

*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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