|Reviews for The Macroverse Beyond Derry|
| sara chapter 5 . 7/7/2015
esta muy bien pero tendrias que poner algo mas
| Solyom2 chapter 1 . 8/5/2014
t was so sad, especially Eddie, he is my favourite character.
There are a lot of IT fanfiction, but most of them are alternate storyline with OC characters. It's always good to read such a good plot with the oroginal charcters!
| Mazi Adams chapter 1 . 7/30/2014
| Mazi Amir Adams chapter 1 . 7/30/2014
Hey old Friend
| Guest chapter 1 . 3/3/2013
By the way, I also happened to edit the first chapter and, with permission, will do the same for the rest. I understand that unwanted editors are usually met by much hostility and little appreciation on part of the authors, but you might like some of the changes I have made. The overall feeling is preserved, but my style is a bit more flowery, as you can see. Here goes-Jacob Pfarrer
Chapter One-Edited by Jacob Pfarrer (Permission Pending).
It all happened so quickly; one second he was tailing his friends, his flashlight aimed at the moldering dampness that coated the tunnel’s floor, and then he felt a hand enclose his wrist, dragging him away, away from his friends and into the darkness that existed out of his flashlight's golden nimbus. He could not scream; as soon as Stanley’s mouth found the means to open, a hand, smelling of dirt and sticky with sweat, closed around it and an alarmingly pleasant voice sounded in his ear.
"Hi, kid. I—uh—guess you're the first."
An audible click; as Stanley dared to open his eyes he saw the ominous silvery glinting of Henry Bowers' knife in the dank, scarce light of the sewer. A lusty burp erupted at his side, the smell merging in a primal emanation with the sewer stink. Stanley shifted, unpleasantly (but not so utterly) surprised to see Belch Huggins leering at him, his round face stretched in a clownish grin.
Henry laughed horribly, his eyes growing wide—wide enough that Stanley could just see in their glimmering, endless depths that budding trace, that undeniable raving element of…
That's the crazy, he thought wildly, Bill always said that he had cracked his nut, but I had never really thought that it was honest to God true...
But now he was going to die... Stan the Man Uris was going to—
Henry grabbed his shoulders and guided him gently backward, till his spine touched-down against the corroded edge of the pipe. Belch held Stanley's arms behind his back, squeezing tightly, as Henry pressed the blade of his knife unerringly to Stanley's white satin shirt. Stanley scrunched shut his eyes, anticipating the first thunderous pangs as Henry's blade parted his skin like scissors through so much wrapping paper…
But instead he heard a plink, half distant, half sardonic, as Henry flicked his wrist. With each sharp movement, Stan felt one more of his shirt's buttons fly off, forever lost to the sewers beneath Derry. Then he heard the Henry speak, his soft, measured voice resounding balefully in the echoic bore of the pipe. "Now, before you die, I want you to think about every rock you threw and everything you've said. I want you to think about that before you die."
Stanley's eyes were open now, staring at Henry with unmasked fear. He struggled against Belch's grip, panting despairingly in near-silent protest. I don't want to die, not like this... Oh, where are the others? Haven't they noticed that I'm gone by now? Please, God, please don't let me die!
"Well, Rockman, are you thinking? Maybe if you start thinking then I might let you live—"
Though Belch's sweaty fingers were clasped firmly about his mouth, Stanley managed to croak, "Y-Yeah, Henry, I'm thinking, I promise. Please don't—"
Before he could finish, Henry bellowed and forced the blade into Stanley's body. In a moment, the world became a dreary grey profile; as when the blade was retracted, yanked barbarously without his quivering frame, Stanley felt the first declamations of a huge and unrelenting pain. Everything he knew began to fade. It was at that moment that Stanley Uris’s grip on reality began to ease its long stolid grasp.
No, he thought, feeling Henry press the blade to his chest for a second go. No, this isn't real...Bill, Richie, Ben, Mike, and Bevvie will be here any second to... to...
Even through a world in which all had been rendered dim and distant, the sound of Belch’s indecision drifted wearily to him. "Jeezum-crow, Henry! Whatchu doin'?! I thought we was just messin' around is all!" His voice, anxious and remote, came to Stanley like a sound issued underwater.
The pain seized him again. Stanley watched as the world gave out a final flash of sightless color—red—before again returning to gray. And as the images disappeared behind eyes that would never again open, a decisive black unfurled. A full minute passed, and the pain, once blinding, widened in a torrent that, though immense, left Stanley feeling oddly empty: dilute.
Henry's voice stabbed at his brain in too-loud tones. He was speaking to Belch, now. "You idiot, did you think that I was joking? Did you think that I followed the pricks down here to give them a friendly warning and that was it?"
"Well I didn't think that you'd kill 'em, Henry. Jeez, I ain't so sure about all this now..."
"You wanna back out now? Fine!" Henry snapped. Stanley heard the young murderer’s footfalls as he stalked away. There was a moment of silence and Stanley could feel Belch's cloying breath, almost comforting in light of everything—almost human—dance warmly across his cheek before the would-be 7th grader too rose and walked off.
When their echoes had faded entirely, Stanley allowed the few tears to slip past his stoppered eyes. He cried, but the liquid streams that whispered down his cheek didn't possess the warm quality most tears did. They were cold. He lay there awhile, stock-still, crumpled on the dense floor of the pipe, trembling inside with that queer and empty winter feeling.
Stanley inhaled a final bright breath and felt pain he had thought gone return, filling his failing body with a hollow declaration. He felt it most wildly above his navel and at his right side, between his ribs, he guessed, but Stanley supposed that the where didn't really matter much. He supposed that nothing really mattered much in the end. Even the truth.
| Guest chapter 1 . 3/3/2013
Hi "Last Flowerchild,"
I'm new to fan-fiction, so I don't understand all of its conventions and formalities. I'll also warn you that this isn't a review per se, but I didn't know how else to reach you with my comments.
I loved your retelling of ITs (childhood) conclusion and found its recreation of the story's characters/themes to be very true to the those of the overall mythos (movie & book combined). Bill's death at the end seemed emotionally and thematically in keeping with the book; the ideas about "tapping into" eternity and the motif of the "painted-on" clown-face as a metaphor for the fake veneer of childhood innocence masking the black insincerity of adult experience were well rendered from the book (if you buy that analysis).
I will point out that there were no flashlights in the book's sewer scenes, and the underground passages the characters passed through were at times exceedingly narrow, being pitch-black concrete and ceramic pipes instead of the giant rectangular hallways with tiny fluorescent fixtures every 10 feet, as they were cinematically depicted. I wish you had introduced a few more elements from the book, such as Henry's pink motorcycle jacket (I'm not sure if it's described beyond the beginning) or the use of more profane language on part of the bullies instead of expressions like "Jeezum Crow," which was more characteristic of the language of characters like Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom, or accentuated Beverly's fear of her father and the complex net of feelings surrounding that fear.
I'm also pretty sure (this is not a criticism, if it happens to be what you intended) that the endearment "Eddie Spaghetti" was more the brainchild of the movie's Richie than that of the book's. "Ed" was the name Eddie objected to, because he thought it was analogous to calling someone with the name Richie something like "Dick."
Overall, I really like it, and it'd be nice to keep up a dialogue with you about the book, as it also happens to be my favorite (and has been since I was 10 years old-yup). No hard feelings about the minor, IT-fandom-laden criticisms-hope they're not akin to "you suck," because they're not intended to be.
| tiffany.turner.92 chapter 5 . 8/7/2012
Really good. I think Mr. King would be proud! You did a great job at keeping the characters personalities.
I too, am a HUGE fan of Mr. King. There is after all, a reason my his last name is KING. ;D
I own all of his books except for about 10 or so. IT however, is probably my favorite novel. Mr. King, as everyone knows, excels at the short story so I can't include his short stories in that statement because they are ALL my favorite.
IT however, is one of the best novels I have ever read. It's incredible.
Anyway, what I am trying to get to here, is that you made a hardcore fan of Mr. King, very, very happy.
Great job. Please, please keep writing fics for IT or at least Mr. King.
| ITfan chapter 5 . 10/31/2011
Geez, what was the point of this?
| Echo Hellfire chapter 5 . 4/15/2011
i love Belch too. this was an...interesting? twist to the story. i think more IT stories would be great.
| the Last Flowerchild chapter 1 . 2/5/2010
thank you so much! that means a lot, because IT is one of my fav books and i really tried to do it justice. thanks for the review and im glad that you enjoyed it! :)
| Maiden of Mercy chapter 5 . 2/2/2010
I really like this! It reads like it could actually be part of the book; you have talent. I love how to mixed elements from the book and the movie. It works well!