The boy’s eyes stared up into the white sky, and as Dave staggered away toward the others already running pell-mell down the street, they began to fill with rain. A knob of bone, horribly bright, peeked through the torn cloth. Blood flowed into the stormdrain from the tattered hole where his left arm had been. The left side of George’s slicker was now bright red. Gardener grabbed him by the back of the slicker, pulled him into the street.and began to scream himself as George's body turned over in his hands. Nothing was certain there were many strange twists and devious turns as one hopped down the overgrown bunny trail of life. Endings are not only part of life they are a requirement for living and thriving, professionally and personally. George's shoulder socked against the cement of the curb and Dave Gardener, who had stayed home from his job at The Shoeboat that day because of the flood, saw only a small boy in a yellow rain-slicker, a small boy who was screaming and writhing in the gutter with muddy water surfing over his face and making his screams sound bubbly.Įverything down here floats,' that chuckling, rotten voice whispered, and suddenly there was a ripping noise and a flaring sheet of agony, and George Denbrough knew no more.ĭave Gardener was the first to get there, and although he arrived only forty-five seconds after the first scream, George Denbrough was already dead. And in real life endings aren’t always neat, whether they’re happy endings, or whether they’re sad endings. They float,' it growled, 'they float, Georgie, and when you’re down here with me, you’ll float, too–' His screams were shrill and piercing, and all up and down Witcham Street people came to their windows or bolted out onto their porches. George craned his neck away from that final blackness and began to scream into the rain, to scream mindlessly into the white autumn sky which curved above Derry on that day in the fall of 1957. It held George’s arm in its thick and wormy grip, it pulled George toward that terrible darkness where the water rushed and roared and bellowed as it bore its cargo of storm debris toward the sea. They float,' the thing in the drain crooned in a clotted, chuckling voice. Stephen King Once Upon A Time, Happy Endings, Mets If life teaches anything at all it teaches that there are so many happy endings that the man who believes that there is no God needs his rationality called into serious question. I never met a single one to equal 'Once upon a time. What he saw then was terrible enough to make his worst imaginings of the thing in the cellar look like sweet dreams what he saw destroyed his sanity in one clawing stroke. Real, Happy Endings, Neat There is no such thing as a happy ending. Yes, sure,' George said, looking into the stormdrain.Īnd a balloon? I’ve got red and green and yellow and blue.'įloat?' The clown’s grin widened. A bright tie, electric-blue, flopped down his front, and on his hands were big white gloves, like the kind Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck always wore. He was wearing a baggy silk suit with great big orange buttons. 'I only repeat myself because you really do not seem that eager.' He held it up, smiling. “Want your boat, Georgie?' Pennywise asked.
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