Dark Desire

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I do not own anything related to Stephen King's ITdom, nor; sadly, do I own Pennywise (oh how I wish I did...) Below is also my own personal opinion on the character, the miniseries, the book as well as the movie. I enjoyed all three but favor the book and the movie the most. Enjoy!

Marilyn Manson - Kill4Me

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Amanda groped out blindly through the darkness in an attempt to silence the shrill alarm she had set on her cell phone the night previous. Dainty fingers, tipped with sharp stiletto nails painted black wrapped around the slim device she always placed on the table beside the queen sized bed. She groaned inwardly at the harsh light that cut through the shadows like a hot knife through butter. When her chocolate brown eyes latched onto the time, her body stiffened. It was only midnight. She didn't remember setting her alarm for that time. She swore she had set it for 3am. With a faint snarl and a curse or two, she none-too-gently, set the phone back down on the table. Three hours of sleep was at least better than none at all. Raking a hand through dyed jet black hair that fell in loose waves down to the small of her back, she gave a sigh of resignation before pulling herself out of the comfort of the black sheets. She supposed it was time to get back to work.

She padded barefoot down the stairs of the small two bedroom house she was currently renting. It was quiet enough here in Derry Maine, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the city life she had all too willingly left back in Rhode Island. She hated the city, always had. She hated the smell, the chaos and most of all, the people. Working nearly twenty years serving the public, she had grown almost numb to social interactions, merely going through the motions. Here in solitude, she could work in peace on both her book and the current script she had been drafted to finish for some locally filmed television show. She still had to pay the bills, afterall.

The tile floor of the kitchen was almost shockingly cold beneath her feet as she trudged to the coffee pot sitting on the small counter. Without putting a light on, Amanda hit the start button. She had prepped it the night before just in case she had awoken before the automatic start began the coffee brewing cycle. She moved to the table where she kept her small container of vitamins and popped them all into her mouth at once, dry swallowing the concoction in one go. It was eerily silent. Almost oppressively so. It surprised her just how quickly she felt a sense of unease envelope her. Shrugging it off as simply her nerves, she turned back to the counter and reached up into the cupboard for her favorite mug. A black ceramic affair with creepy red lettering that simple read IT. She had purchased the mug on some online store after she had seen the movie adaptation for the second time and had become nearly obsessed with Skarsgards portrayal of the chaotic clown Pennywise. Though she had seen the miniseries several times growing up and had praised Tim Curry for his performance, she had always felt it was lacking something. When she had finally seen the movie, she realized in the first five minutes exactly what it had been lacking. Unpredictability. Tim Curry's version had seemed almost cartoonish in a sense and she had half expected to see him become some kind of two dimensional animation. However with Skarsgards version, there was a raw animal magnetism, an unpredictability that kept you on your toes and fit with the original character in the book.

Once the gurgle of the coffee pot finished, Amanda poured a small amount of coffee creamer into the bottom of her mug, replaced it back into the fridge and added the fresh coffee. The scent of Peppermint Mocha faintly wafted up from the mug to assail her senses and she sighed a bit contentedly before taking that first heavenly sip.

A faint jingle of bells had her pausing with the mug half way down. She wrote all sorts of novels that were combinations of horror, romance and fantasy. It somehow didn't quite surprise her since she could still feel the hair on the back of her neck standing to attention coupled with the unease of being watched. Slowly and carefully, she set the mug down on top of the table without so much as a click of the ceramic on top of the wooden surface. She reached beneath the table to carefully unhook the wooden bat she had secured there upon moving in a month ago. Unfortunately, her fingers only found empty space.