01-05-2018, 12:12 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-29-2018, 01:28 PM by The Humble Sage.)
It had learned to despise new things.
New things brought nothing but trouble. Things that were old hat, now those were good. Delicious, even, often filled with rich food and screaming, fleshy hominid meals. New... new was not something It wanted.
So, as the (frightening, terrible, scary— all newnewnew new! ) suddenness of Its crumpling defeat faded, It was even more enraged (fearful) to discover Itself drifting into yet another new state of being. A state where It was at an enormously strong being's mercy, instead of at the mercy of seven idiot human children.
(The aforementioned being could only ever be enormously strong— otherwise, how could it have ever succeeded in ensnaring It? How could it have dared? )
The strange other being had white skin and four limbs. No eyes, no snout, just a wide, smiling mouth filled with teeth. It appeared to be a perfect facsimile of the human form. Omni, it called itself, and It was not impressed. Actually, to be more precise, It was too busy being terrified and angry in equal measure. It was unable to move or voice Its mindless rage-loathing-hate. Unable to wrench Itself free and do what It usually did with all of Its most troubling of problems, aside from that stupid, lazy Turtle: Eat them. So instead It howled and roared and spat in the privacy of Its own headspace, but kept an ear focused on Omni's cheerful, odious explanation that chipped away at every facet of the comfortable existence It had grown so acclimated to.
Before It had arrived there, in that seemingly endless black void gripped within Omni's power, there had been a shrinking sensation, like a magician beckoning one of those colorful cloth trails back up into his sleeve, the myriad of hues slithering back into the mysterious space they usually inhabited. It was like so much cloth, squares of primary color and intricate transformations vanishing into this pale being's metaphorical sleeve, until all that remained was Its most favored of forms, one that children adored yet feared beneath Its layers of disguises. The wily clown, twinkling sterling-silver bells and all, dangling like a puppet in Omni's invisible grip.
It had never felt so... so powerless. Weakened? Yes. Diminished? Okay, maybe a little. But powerless? Never. It was too clever for that, too careful. Derry, Maine had been an excellent hunting ground for that exact reason, filled with imaginative fools and the potential to lull those fools into a state not unlike a dream (unable to tell that the sharp maw of danger was closing in around them until it was far, far too late), and yet, It could acknowledge that it had become somewhat overconfident in Its management of Its primary food source.
Most of the time, humans just weren't able to discern their proper place on the food chain, which was right about how It liked it. It had been exceedingly careful, almost to the point of overcompensation, never allowing for the adult human minds to even consider Its true presence... That is, until the first child escaped, and then the next, and then the next, until eventually all of them, those Losers, joined together as a united force to combat It. The fear that It felt as Omni kept Its form suspended and trapped was similar to the fear It had felt all the way back in the summer of 1958, but rage burned clear and orange in Its cosmic belly, expanding inward in infinite fractals of hunger, pain, and desirous wrath.
A pale-fingered hand reached out, holding an orb of swirling colors aloft. The glowing sphere shimmered and sparkled brilliantly, almost like how the yolk of an egg that has been frozen over and crystallized looks when sunlight strikes it just right, a sublime and striking contrast to Omni's chalk-white skin. Knife-sharp curiosity sliced through Its inner tempestuous fold, the incandescence of lustrous anger fading like traces of starlight. It looked upon this orb of many colors and promptly began to salivate, the deadlights of Its eyes flashing a bright coppery gold.
Omni ceased speaking while the sewer-inhabiting extraterrestrial stewed in Its furiously churning brain. The clown-shaped creature barely had time to blink before It was dropping, fading, plummeting toward something both inevitable and painfully bright—
New things brought nothing but trouble. Things that were old hat, now those were good. Delicious, even, often filled with rich food and screaming, fleshy hominid meals. New... new was not something It wanted.
So, as the (frightening, terrible, scary— all newnewnew new! ) suddenness of Its crumpling defeat faded, It was even more enraged (fearful) to discover Itself drifting into yet another new state of being. A state where It was at an enormously strong being's mercy, instead of at the mercy of seven idiot human children.
(The aforementioned being could only ever be enormously strong— otherwise, how could it have ever succeeded in ensnaring It? How could it have dared? )
The strange other being had white skin and four limbs. No eyes, no snout, just a wide, smiling mouth filled with teeth. It appeared to be a perfect facsimile of the human form. Omni, it called itself, and It was not impressed. Actually, to be more precise, It was too busy being terrified and angry in equal measure. It was unable to move or voice Its mindless rage-loathing-hate. Unable to wrench Itself free and do what It usually did with all of Its most troubling of problems, aside from that stupid, lazy Turtle: Eat them. So instead It howled and roared and spat in the privacy of Its own headspace, but kept an ear focused on Omni's cheerful, odious explanation that chipped away at every facet of the comfortable existence It had grown so acclimated to.
Before It had arrived there, in that seemingly endless black void gripped within Omni's power, there had been a shrinking sensation, like a magician beckoning one of those colorful cloth trails back up into his sleeve, the myriad of hues slithering back into the mysterious space they usually inhabited. It was like so much cloth, squares of primary color and intricate transformations vanishing into this pale being's metaphorical sleeve, until all that remained was Its most favored of forms, one that children adored yet feared beneath Its layers of disguises. The wily clown, twinkling sterling-silver bells and all, dangling like a puppet in Omni's invisible grip.
It had never felt so... so powerless. Weakened? Yes. Diminished? Okay, maybe a little. But powerless? Never. It was too clever for that, too careful. Derry, Maine had been an excellent hunting ground for that exact reason, filled with imaginative fools and the potential to lull those fools into a state not unlike a dream (unable to tell that the sharp maw of danger was closing in around them until it was far, far too late), and yet, It could acknowledge that it had become somewhat overconfident in Its management of Its primary food source.
Most of the time, humans just weren't able to discern their proper place on the food chain, which was right about how It liked it. It had been exceedingly careful, almost to the point of overcompensation, never allowing for the adult human minds to even consider Its true presence... That is, until the first child escaped, and then the next, and then the next, until eventually all of them, those Losers, joined together as a united force to combat It. The fear that It felt as Omni kept Its form suspended and trapped was similar to the fear It had felt all the way back in the summer of 1958, but rage burned clear and orange in Its cosmic belly, expanding inward in infinite fractals of hunger, pain, and desirous wrath.
A pale-fingered hand reached out, holding an orb of swirling colors aloft. The glowing sphere shimmered and sparkled brilliantly, almost like how the yolk of an egg that has been frozen over and crystallized looks when sunlight strikes it just right, a sublime and striking contrast to Omni's chalk-white skin. Knife-sharp curiosity sliced through Its inner tempestuous fold, the incandescence of lustrous anger fading like traces of starlight. It looked upon this orb of many colors and promptly began to salivate, the deadlights of Its eyes flashing a bright coppery gold.
Omni ceased speaking while the sewer-inhabiting extraterrestrial stewed in Its furiously churning brain. The clown-shaped creature barely had time to blink before It was dropping, fading, plummeting toward something both inevitable and painfully bright—
![[Image: tumblr_inline_ox9oq2UNpf1v9qbbn_540.gif]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/0f940b744e47adff247fbd62ee924a4c/tumblr_inline_ox9oq2UNpf1v9qbbn_540.gif)