07-17-2018, 12:12 AM
Even after Pennywise had struck the water like a skipping stone, it wasn’t long before the water once again became eerily still. Sinking into the murk and gloom of Crystal Lake’s shallows, the child-eating monster observed as the hulking, dark shadow that was Jason Voorhees approached the water’s edge.
Jason watched as the lip of the lake shivered against the shore, the pebbles under his mud-caked boots shifting as the tide came rushing in. Only a slowly expanding ripple remained to betray the creature’s disappearance, but the serial murderer just gripped his machete like a man possessed, the eyeholes of his aged hockey mask never leaving the water.
All at once a shape emerged from the lake, only the silhouette visible as water sloughed off from its frame. One arm stretched out to reveal the delicate webbing between Its clawed fingers, veiny and nearly translucent from the moonlight passing through it. Scaly skin was layered over Its body-- tough, chitinous, and rigid like armor, while the froggy lips of Its face gaped like a fish swallowing around a pebble, parted slightly to reveal fanged teeth. Mud and slime coated the thing’s scales, reeking of pondscum and gutted fish.
A gurgling croak came out from the gill-man’s throat as It lumbered toward Jason. It moved slowly. Purposefully, like a monster out of a black-and-white movie. Thus, it was rather easy for Jason to haul one arm back and smash his machete into the gill-man’s face.
“Holy shit!” Handsome Jack hollered from somewhere far off, apparently watching the fight while fending off Shantotto. “Get ‘im, Hockey Puck!”
Emitting a choked-off snarl, the aquatic man stumbled backward. Its scaly visage twisted with rage, the creature lunged at Jason’s midsection, claws slicing through the undead golem’s tattered clothing and digging into the decaying flesh underneath. Unfortunately, the newly-minted Creature from the Black Lagoon wasn’t quite prepared for the massive fist that closed around the fibrous gills on one side of Its neck, jerking Its head roughly to the side before hurling It toward the tree-line.
Pennywise collided with the trunk of a tall spruce with a solid thunk. Scrabbling at the damp earth littered with leaves, still rapidly shifting back to Its preferred form, the circus terror looked up to see that Its prey-turned-predator had vanished from the lakeside.
Ch ch ch... ah ah ah...
A very insistent and ex-ceeeeeedingly irresistible instinct caused It to tear through the wild blackberry bushes growing nearby and vanish into the undergrowth. It fled, not because of something so pathetic as Fear, but because… because…!
Suddenly, a spark of orange filtered through the mess of brush up ahead. Pennywise angled toward this spark like a hound catching a whiff of just the right scent and, after about fifty yards of tearing through the woods at breakneck speed, emerged into a clearing. A shack stood unassumingly at its center, dilapidated and toppling into disrepair.
But, the orange light was there, a beacon flickering against the cracked pane of one of the few windows left. Clawing at this window, the clown eventually bashed Its way inside in a shower of broken glass.
The first thing that caught Its attention was the candlelight. Tall and short pillars of wax sat upon what appeared to be an altar, the yellow glow of dozens of flames circling around it in a perfect circle. Pants and a pale cable knit sweater were laid delicately over the shrine, slightly wrinkled and stained. Most interestingly of all, however, was the severed head sitting at the center of it all. Shriveled up like an apple, brown with age, clumps of stringy blond hair still clinging to it like cobwebs, the head stared with eyeless pits back at Pennywise.
A harsh wind blew through the shack. It rattled the rickety walls and chilled the air, the many candles wavering fearfully. And with this wind came a soft whisper, low and sad, keening into the night.
“Jason…”
Pennywise stared at the dead woman’s dried-up, ugly little skull. If It was a dog, Its ears might’ve perked up.
”Oh, Jason. My special, special boy!”
And then, something clicked into place in Its evil, evil brain.
Grinning a toothy grin, the clown strolled up and plucked the woman’s skull from the table. It peered into ‘her’ eyes gleefully, shoulders shaking from mirth. “Sorry, ma’am! I’m gonna have to borrow your face for a while. Your kiddo’s about to get the surprise of his life!”
The wind moaned, roaring so loudly against the window panes that it almost sounded like someone screaming in anguish. Pennywise cackled and promptly chucked the head like a rotten tomato at the wall. The thing burst into dust and crumbly bits of leathery flesh, sending the clown into another fit of hysterics. And as It laughed, the Monster of Derry’s body began to shift, twist, change.
The door to the shack creaked open. Pamela Voorhees turned to welcome her baby boy home with open arms.
Jason watched as the lip of the lake shivered against the shore, the pebbles under his mud-caked boots shifting as the tide came rushing in. Only a slowly expanding ripple remained to betray the creature’s disappearance, but the serial murderer just gripped his machete like a man possessed, the eyeholes of his aged hockey mask never leaving the water.
All at once a shape emerged from the lake, only the silhouette visible as water sloughed off from its frame. One arm stretched out to reveal the delicate webbing between Its clawed fingers, veiny and nearly translucent from the moonlight passing through it. Scaly skin was layered over Its body-- tough, chitinous, and rigid like armor, while the froggy lips of Its face gaped like a fish swallowing around a pebble, parted slightly to reveal fanged teeth. Mud and slime coated the thing’s scales, reeking of pondscum and gutted fish.
A gurgling croak came out from the gill-man’s throat as It lumbered toward Jason. It moved slowly. Purposefully, like a monster out of a black-and-white movie. Thus, it was rather easy for Jason to haul one arm back and smash his machete into the gill-man’s face.
“Holy shit!” Handsome Jack hollered from somewhere far off, apparently watching the fight while fending off Shantotto. “Get ‘im, Hockey Puck!”
Emitting a choked-off snarl, the aquatic man stumbled backward. Its scaly visage twisted with rage, the creature lunged at Jason’s midsection, claws slicing through the undead golem’s tattered clothing and digging into the decaying flesh underneath. Unfortunately, the newly-minted Creature from the Black Lagoon wasn’t quite prepared for the massive fist that closed around the fibrous gills on one side of Its neck, jerking Its head roughly to the side before hurling It toward the tree-line.
Pennywise collided with the trunk of a tall spruce with a solid thunk. Scrabbling at the damp earth littered with leaves, still rapidly shifting back to Its preferred form, the circus terror looked up to see that Its prey-turned-predator had vanished from the lakeside.
Ch ch ch... ah ah ah...
A very insistent and ex-ceeeeeedingly irresistible instinct caused It to tear through the wild blackberry bushes growing nearby and vanish into the undergrowth. It fled, not because of something so pathetic as Fear, but because… because…!
Suddenly, a spark of orange filtered through the mess of brush up ahead. Pennywise angled toward this spark like a hound catching a whiff of just the right scent and, after about fifty yards of tearing through the woods at breakneck speed, emerged into a clearing. A shack stood unassumingly at its center, dilapidated and toppling into disrepair.
But, the orange light was there, a beacon flickering against the cracked pane of one of the few windows left. Clawing at this window, the clown eventually bashed Its way inside in a shower of broken glass.
The first thing that caught Its attention was the candlelight. Tall and short pillars of wax sat upon what appeared to be an altar, the yellow glow of dozens of flames circling around it in a perfect circle. Pants and a pale cable knit sweater were laid delicately over the shrine, slightly wrinkled and stained. Most interestingly of all, however, was the severed head sitting at the center of it all. Shriveled up like an apple, brown with age, clumps of stringy blond hair still clinging to it like cobwebs, the head stared with eyeless pits back at Pennywise.
A harsh wind blew through the shack. It rattled the rickety walls and chilled the air, the many candles wavering fearfully. And with this wind came a soft whisper, low and sad, keening into the night.
“Jason…”
Pennywise stared at the dead woman’s dried-up, ugly little skull. If It was a dog, Its ears might’ve perked up.
”Oh, Jason. My special, special boy!”
And then, something clicked into place in Its evil, evil brain.
Grinning a toothy grin, the clown strolled up and plucked the woman’s skull from the table. It peered into ‘her’ eyes gleefully, shoulders shaking from mirth. “Sorry, ma’am! I’m gonna have to borrow your face for a while. Your kiddo’s about to get the surprise of his life!”
The wind moaned, roaring so loudly against the window panes that it almost sounded like someone screaming in anguish. Pennywise cackled and promptly chucked the head like a rotten tomato at the wall. The thing burst into dust and crumbly bits of leathery flesh, sending the clown into another fit of hysterics. And as It laughed, the Monster of Derry’s body began to shift, twist, change.
The door to the shack creaked open. Pamela Voorhees turned to welcome her baby boy home with open arms.
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