He always had liked sunflowers.
Everything in Derry happened for a reason.
Everything had a purpose. No hand of a clock turned, no leaf blowing in the breeze - nothing out of the ordinary happened without It’s will or knowledge.
Somehow, something had slipped through the cracks.
A glimmer, a refraction of light, slipping in amongst the shadows, determined to brighten up a darkened room. Tiny thing, fragile thing. A single petal in the wind, landing on the ash and dead dirt, and still managing to grow. Curious little thing.
Sunflowers, It had learned, grew by facing towards the sun. This made perfect and logical sense, as the ones in It’s garden always faced away from the house, away from him. Perfect and logical, for he was the destroyer of worlds, a being of carnage and destruction.
But the little thing had looked at him many times, never turned away.
It wasn’t always every day, not always the same time, not following any sort of pattern or routine. But every now and again, she would be there. Ignoring all the danger and warning signs, tending to the garden. At first, It had been angry. She had no right to be there, let alone touch anything on his property, anything that was his. But the longer that he’d watched her out the dirty window on the second floor, the more he’d come to accept her presence. Come to expect it even, growing restless if it had been days at a time without his little sunflower keeper dropping by his house.
It had never thought to speak to her, really. She caused no harm. Insignificant. Not a threat, and being of age, not the usual sort of prey that he looked for. Still, it proved to be a nice distraction in the midst of his hunting, and the quarrels between himself and the Loser’s Club. There was something so strikingly vibrant about the thoughts and feelings coming from the sunflower girl, almost repugnant enough to wrinkle his nose. Positivity. Hope. A curiosity, but hardly a tasty one. The flavours on his tongue from merely watching her were bittersweet, sugary and foul. Like biting into a flower itself, an assault of pleasantries on the senses. As the days dragged on, despite the overwhelming non-threat of the little thing, it coiled something dark and wicked in the pits of the creature’s stomach. The only real use for hope, was to be crushed. Twisted between his hands, choking the life from those speckled cheeks - taint and touch her with wickedness and cruelty. The mere thought of it sparked a child-like glee, ruby red lips pulling into a wickedly toothy grin.
This would be a new game. .. Well, not exactly new. It had been pulling the strings of insignificant puppets for a long, long time. But this girl was something new. Something not yet touched by Derry’s stain, so perfectly untouched, like a shiny red apple just waiting for his bruises. And whenever the apple had gotten too bruised, or too boring, It could always just eat it or throw it away. She was, and always would be - insignificant.
She looked up at his window that day. Eyes wide with curiosity, and the beginning tingles of fear.
Lips pulled into another wide, inviting grin.