(a/n: well, this is my first fanfiction on this site. Hope it's a good one!

And if you haven't yet read Stephen King's novel, It, then what are you waiting for?)

3/24/09: I have changed the category. This website had moved it to the Dark Tower series. I feel that it fit better in the Stephan King books section than the movie version of It, but I feel also that it fits better in the movie version of It than the Dark Tower series. I do not plan on editing or changing my story, as it is several years old and I have quite forgotten the plot, but I feel that it deserves the correct category to age in.


I wonder: where does this start? I'm certain that every man or woman with a story to tell has started with that single thought. Even though a beginning may seem to be clear-cut to the reader, the writer spent hours trying to find it, and may even now be still wonder if it even started there. Was it relevant? Does it matter? Should it be earlier? Later? I suppose that the best that any writer can do is to take a stab at the beginning, and hope that they can cut it off in time.

I write this now, for the first time in a long time, fully comfortable and relaxed, and happy that I am. These last months that have lasted ages (I still wonder if it only seemed that way or if it really was) have been filled with fear. Philosophers (who were also busy trying to save themselves during this time) are still musing over the many paradoxes laid out. I try not to think about those times any more. I still think that my mind will simply explode from the mingled grief and horror. All the same though, I find myself thinking about this more and more while remembering less and less.

Will I write this, beginning to end? I don't know. But I'm beginning to wonder now if I even have a choice. I have found myself recently, and even through the pain and terror, I still think that this last summer was one of the best of my life.

I suppose that I have found the beginning, or a beginning at least. There can only be one, and I guess that this one is my only choice.

I only pray that I can tell my story before it is too late and Its spell will be slow enough for my fingers to make a record. And maybe, just maybe then I can begin to really start over with the rest of them, even years later, and then maybe this nightmare can truly be over. For good.