Sacrilege
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A Pennywise x Reader Fanfic.
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Summary
Some’thing’ that shouldn't have wanted me.
And some’thing’ I shouldn't have wanted.
Moving back to your mother’s childhood home isn’t all that bad. No, now you finally get to live a normal, peaceful life in a small town, where the quiet streets promise a chance to free your mind from every torment that once clung to it.
You have never quite allowed your own mind to wander beyond what is ordinary. You have never truly wanted to believe in anything that might make you question what you know.
You are a logical person. Painfully, stubbornly logical and your heart has always remained in the right place—somewhere that should never make you question what you ‘feel’, or where it was always meant to be.
You refuse to let any of that change.
But anything can be changed if fate has already decided so.
When the story has already been written and the ink has long since dried, no amount of logic, doubt, or defiance can erase what was always meant to happen—
or stop your heart from wanting what fate had already chosen.
Those are simply the rules.
And we were never meant to break them.
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Chapter 1
Welcome To Derry.
If I said I ever imagined my life would end up here, I would be lying.
I stared up at the house my mother had so “generously” gifted me. It was rather beautiful in the way old homes often are—charming, quiet, almost inviting.
But I knew better. If anything, it felt less like a gift and more like a cage dressed up in pretty walls. Just another way for her to try keep her hold on me, even from miles away.
But we both know that would never work.
I had always been the kind of person who was far too curious. Too reckless. Too brave for my own good.
And sometimes… that bravery had come at a cost. A price that normally others paid for me.
A sharp breath cut through me before the memories could surface fully, before the kind of thoughts that had driven me to leave everything behind could drag me under again. I forced them away.
This was supposed to be a fresh start. My last resort.
A throat clearing pulled me out of my spiral.
“All right, miss,” the delivery man said, his voice rough but casual.
I turned to him, lifting my brows slightly as I glanced at the stack of boxes by the porch. “That should be all the boxes from today’s truck. The rest of your things will arrive tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I frowned. “I thought everything was supposed to arrive today.”
He clapped his hands together, already stepping back. “Derry’s a small town. Only so much we can do at once. Still got other things.”
“What other things could you possibly—” I started, but he had already turned, heading for his truck without another glance.
I stood there, blinking after him.
Well… alright then.
Another, much plumper delivery man shuffled around the corner of the truck. He tipped his hat at me with a friendly smile.
“Welcome to Derry, miss,” he said, a soft chuckle under his breath. Then, his expression shifted just slightly, his brows knitting together. “Say… why do I feel like I recognise you somehow?”
“My mother,” I replied plainly, my eyes still drifting to the house.
“Ah,” he nodded slowly, like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. “Well… you’ll love it here.”
I finally turned to face him properly. “I’m not so sure about that,” I said, the honesty slipping out before I could soften it.
He frowned, just faintly, before giving a small, awkward nod and heading back toward his truck.
My gaze dropped to the boxes and then lifted to the quiet, waiting house again. A long sigh slipped from my lips.
I hadn’t meant to sound so cold. It’s just… it’s been a rough year.
But maybe… just maybe… a small, peaceful town is exactly what I need.
꩜
It had been a few days since I’d moved in.
I sat on my bed, half-heartedly munching on a piece of dry, brittle toast while scribbling in my journal, the ink slowly staining my fingers. I chewed thoughtfully, blinking down at the page as my pen dragged lazily across it… and then slowed.
Stopped.
Boredom crept in like an unwanted house guest.
Could this place get any duller? I thought, staring at the uninspired words I’d just written. I swallowed the last bite of toast and let my head fall back against the pillows.
I sat up again with a groan as my gaze drifted to the window opposite my bed. The town sat quietly outside.
“Library?” I murmured to myself, tilting my head. I mean… I do enjoy reading. And it was either that or sit here and dramatically wither away before lunchtime.
꩜
I wandered down the streets of Derry with a bag slung diagonally across my shoulder. Refreshing, one might call it. The people here were… nice. They smiled. They waved. I waved back obviously because I was raised with actual manners.
I’d only been here a week and a half, but I’d already managed to figure out where most things were. The delivery guy had been right. Derry was painfully small. Blink and you’d miss it. Blink twice and you’d probably circle back around.
I stopped in front of Derry Public Library, let out a small sigh, and stepped inside.
The familiar scent of old paper and dust wrapped around me almost instantly. Honestly? Kind of comforting. The librarian greeted me with a polite smile, but my attention drifted somewhere else entirely.
A far corner of the building.
Old shelves. Dusty, forgotten books. The kind no one touched anymore. And for some reason, that corner felt like it was… staring back at me. Dramatic, I know. It’s a corner, not a person. But still.
I had always loved old things. Antiques. History. Objects with stories tangled into their pages and cracks. Usually, that kind of thing just made me happy. Curious. Light. But today… that particular corner tugged at me a little harder than usual.
Brushing it off, I turned toward a different shelf instead, letting my fingers trail along the spines of the books. I reached up, pulled one from the top row, and slowly opened it.
Lost in my own daze— I almost didn’t hear the sudden crash that echoed beside me.
I gasped, spinning halfway around, only to find an elderly woman crouched on the floor, a small pile of books scattered at her feet. She must have dropped them while reaching for a higher shelf.
“I’m so sorry for the noise,” she murmured, already trying to gather them with trembling hands.
“Let me,” I said gently, rushing over and kneeling beside her. My fingers moved quickly, picking up the fallen books into a neat stack.
“No, no… it’s quite alright, dear. I can manage,” she insisted, though her hands hardly obeyed her anymore.
“And what kind of person would that make me if I didn’t help you?” I asked, standing and offering her a small, warm smile.
A soft, surprised chuckle slipped from her lips. “It would make you… normal,” she said lightly. “Most people don’t go out of their way to help others anymore.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in her words. Clearing my throat, I glanced down at the books in my arms and picked out the one on top.
“I’m guessing this was the one you were after before they all decided to escape,” I said, handing it to her with a faint smile.
Her own was fragile, but real.
“You’re new here, aren’t you, dear?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.
I nodded. “That obvious?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she chuckled. “We just don’t get many new faces. Just the same old ones.”
I didn’t quite know what to say to that, so I simply nodded, turning slightly back toward my own book.
“How long have you been here?” she pressed, gently but persistently.
“Just over a week,” I replied.
How lovely,” she said with a small nod. “And thank you, dear. You truly are kind. There aren’t many like that anymore.”
I lowered my gaze to the book in my hands, then back up to her, a faint, bittersweet smile touching my lips. “My father always told me that if we don’t have kindness, then we don’t really have much at all. Right?”
For a moment, she only looked at me.
Then… the lights above us flickered.
Once. Twice.
A faint buzz filled the air, and I blinked rapidly, my eyes lifting to the ceiling in confusion. When my gaze dropped back down to her, her expression had changed—no warmth now. Just a still, unreadable stare.
“I should let you continue browsing,” she said slowly.
She turned as if to leave, then stopped.
“Oh… and one more thing.”
My brows knitted together as she faced me again, her voice dropping so low I almost didn’t hear it.
“If you ever see, hear… or even feel anything that doesn’t belong here…” she murmured, her eyes dull, almost glassy.
I leaned in slightly, waiting for her to finish.
But the moment stretched too long.
She blinked once, as if waking from a hazy dream, and the softness returned to her features. A gentle, harmless smile curved her lips, as if she’d never said anything strange at all.
“Enjoy your book, dear.”
I stared at her, unsettled. My mouth opened, ready to speak when suddenly—
The library doors slammed open, a group of laughing children charging inside before being instantly scolded by the librarian. My attention snapped toward the noise without thinking.
When I turned back…
The old woman was gone.
No footsteps. No retreating figure between the shelves.
Just empty space where she had been standing.
My breath hitched in my chest.
How… odd.
꩜
I stepped out of the library and slid the book into my bag. My brows were still faintly furrowed.
I didn’t even get the old lady’s name.
Hell… she hadn’t even asked for mine.
It was… strange. Unsettling, even. But I forced a soft huff of amusement from my lips. You’ve just moved to a new town. You’re nineteen. Of course everything feels weird.
And honestly? I had far bigger things to worry about. Like finding a job. Like paying for groceries. Like trying not to emotionally spiral over an old woman in a library.
A walk would help. It usually did. Less stress. More steps. A solid win-win.
So I started walking, letting the small town stretch around me as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. Golden light washed over the quiet streets, catching on windows and rooftops. It really was a beautiful place. Almost painfully peaceful.
I’d been walking a lot since I arrived. Maybe a little too much. If I was being honest, I was already getting bored of the same roads, the same corners, the same pleasant nothingness.
That’s when I spotted it.
A narrow trail just ahead, breaking away from the path and leading toward the woods.
New environment, I thought. That has to be better, right?
And without thinking too hard about it, I turned and followed it.
The air cooled almost instantly beneath the canopy of trees. The dirt path was slightly damp beneath my shoes, leaves crunching softly with every step. I glanced around, taking note of the way the trees leaned overhead, careful not to stray too far from the trail.
Curiosity had always been one of my lesser-loved traits.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my book and pen, slowing my pace as I flipped to a blank page. Kneeling briefly near a patch of wildflowers, I began to sketch them roughly, just for fun. Just to make the walk feel like something more than a way to pass time.
The forest was quiet.
A little too quiet.
But I brushed it off, the scratch of my pen against the paper the only sound as I kept drawing.
I had just passed a small patch of violets along the edge of the trail. Soft purple specks against the darkening green. Beautiful. So small. So delicate. I was so focused on them—on tracing the thin, trembling lines of each petal, on catching the way the last bit of light kissed their edges—that I didn’t notice how the world around me had dimmed. How the sun had fully set.
It wasn’t until a strange sound slid through the quiet that my hand stilled.
…Wet.
Slow.
Rhythmic.
Not wind. Not an animal’s paws.
Something else.
My head snapped up, brows knitting together. The forest had gone eerily still, as if even the bugs were holding their breath.
I lowered the sketchbook, fingers suddenly numb, and pushed it back into my bag with shaky restraint.
The noise came again—thicker this time. A dreadful, sticky tearing sound, followed by the faintest crunch. Like bones snapping between careless teeth.
My throat went dry.
“Hello?” The word didn’t even make it out. My lips barely moved.
The sound was coming from deeper in the trees, just off the trail. Somewhere the darkness sat heavier. I took one slow, stupid step toward it…then another. My heart beat so hard it felt detached from my body—like I was hearing it from a great distance away.
The smell hit me first.
Putrid. Rotting. Sweet and foul all at once. It burned the back of my throat, soaked into my lungs, made my stomach twist violently even though I was still several feet away. I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle a gasp, but the noise that slipped out was small, broken…terrified.
And then I saw it.
What had once been a person wasn’t a person anymore.
It was torn open, twisted at impossible angles, soaked so deeply in red it was almost black in the sinking light. Limbs bent wrong. Flesh missing in violent, ragged strips. Something inside them—organs, bones, things I couldn’t bear to name—glistened through shredded skin. And above it, hunched over in a way no human should be able to bend…
A figure.
Tall. Pale. Unnaturally still, except for the slow, methodical movements of its shoulders and jaw as it fed.
That wet, awful sound again.
Chewing.
I couldn’t breathe.
My mind blanked. My senses dulled like someone had shoved cotton into my skull. No thoughts. No words. Just a ringing pressure and the sight of red and white and shadow burned directly into my vision.
A sharp inhale tore from me before I could stop it.
The figure froze.
Slowly—too slowly—it lifted its head, a low growl vibrating out of it.
One eye caught the faint light first. A dull, sickly yellow gleam staring straight through me. Then the rest of its face emerged, paper-pale skin, lips stained a deep, horrific crimson. Its mouth still glistened. Its chin dripped with the remains of the poor body it mangled.
It straightened, bones cracking, joints rolling as it uncurled to its full, towering height. Clearly not an animal. Not human either. Orange strands of hair puffed out around its skull in wild tufts. The outline of an old, silk-like costume clung to its form, stained, tattered, clinging unnaturally to its limbs.
A clown.
But not anything that belonged to laughter or children.
It stared at me…then, slow and deliberate, a grin pulled across its face. Too wide. Too knowing.
A soft, lilting, circus like chuckle slipped from its throat. Almost musical.
“Oopsie…” it hummed, voice light, playful…wrong. “You weren’t supposed to see that…”
The sound of it vibrated in my chest more than my ears, curling into me like smoke. My eyes burned but I couldn’t even blink. My body was stone. No fear reaction, no scream—just shock so heavy it flattened everything.
It tilted its head, studying me like I was a toy it had just noticed.
“You should run,” it sang softly, grin stretching wider. “It makes it more fun.”
Something in its expression changed then. His grin immediately dropped. The playfulness wiped away. In its place: hunger. Cold. Focused.
That’s when everything inside me finally snapped.
Don’t think. Don’t look. Don’t understand.
Just move.
I turned and bolted.
Branches whipped against my arms. Roots tried to grab my ankles. My lungs burned, heart bursting, ears filled only with my own ragged breathing.
Behind me, the sound of something rushing through and chasing me far too fast to be human. A low, unearthly growl threaded with delighted laughter.
Closer.
Closer.
My foot caught on a hidden root and I crashed to the ground, skin tearing on gravel and twigs. Pain shot through my knees but I barely felt it. I sobbed out a broken sound as I scrambled up, hands slick with dirt and blood.
I’m done for. I’m done for. I’m done for—
A deafening honk split the air.
I stumbled out of the tree line, blinded by harsh headlights, the sudden assault of the real world crashing into me as I almost rammed into a moving car.
“Hey! Are you crazy?!” a man yelled from the car.
I barely heard him.
My body was slick with sweat as strands of my hair clung to my face. My chest heaved as I whipped my head around.
I stared into the trees. Hands shaking. Vision burning.
But the figure was gone.
No movement. No laughter. No glowing eye.
The forest loomed behind, dark and silent, like nothing had ever been there at all.
Only the lingering rot in the air… the smell of burnt caramel and popcorn… and the awful, terrible feeling that something was still watching me from the dark.
I could hear that same giggle faintly. Far away.
꩜
I don’t remember walking home.
My legs moved, somehow. One foot in front of the other, down the street.
Everything felt… tilted. Distant. My body was stiff, locked in some quiet survival mode while my mind drifted far above it, watching it all like a stranger.
I stared straight ahead, blinking slowly. Unusually slowly. Like each blink took effort. My fingers were curled so tightly around my bag strap that they ached, but I didn’t loosen them. I couldn’t. If I let go, I wasn’t sure I’d still be real.
My breath came out uneven, ragged. Raspy.
What was that?
It looked human. It stood like one. Spoke like one.
But it wasn’t.
My stomach rolled.
You imagined it.
You panicked.
You let the dark get to you.
But the smell—
No. No, I didn’t imagine that. Rot doesn’t cling to your clothes like that. The way the air had changed around it, the way my skin had prickled, the way my body had known before my mind could even catch up.
That was real.
That body was real.
And it was still out there.
A shudder crawled up my spine.
“You don’t believe in this stupid, hickory-dickory crap,” I muttered under my breath, more to steady myself than because I believed it. “You’re smarter than this…”
My steps slowed as my house came into view at the end of the street. I blinked at it— relief almost hitting me. Safe. Comfort. But then I froze.
I stopped completely.
Tied neatly to my mailbox, swaying lazily with the evening breeze, was a single balloon.
Deep red. Glossy. Shining faintly in the dying light.
My mouth fell open slightly. My hands loosened. My brain stuttered, confused, trying to come up with a rational explanation.
A neighbour. A prank. A weird welcome gesture.
It had to be something normal.
I took a hesitant step closer. Then another. My heart hammered faster with each one, though I couldn’t understand why. It was just a stupid balloon.
The string fluttered like it was breathing.
I lifted my hand.
Just as my fingers were about to touch it—
The balloon swelled.
Not slowly. Violently. Expanding right before my eyes as if filled by something invisible, something furious—
Then—
Pop.
A sharp, sickening burst.
Warm liquid splattered over my face, my chest, my arms. Thick. Sticky. Hot.
I staggered backward with a strangled sound, eyes squeezed shut on instinct. My breath came in a broken, panicked gasp as I slowly forced my eyes open again.
Red coated my skin. My clothes. Dripped from my lashes to the pavement below.
Blood.
Real. Dark. Still warm.
My breathing stopped.
For one fragile second, there was complete silence.
Then the world came rushing back into my body all at once.
Panic finally caught up to reality.
A raw, ripped scream tore out of my throat, echoing down the street.
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Hey darlings ♡
Hope you enjoyed the first chapter preview of my book ‘Sacrilege by Cranberrycola’ on ao3 ☆
If you’ve enjoyed it and would like to read the rest, here’s the link to the book on ao3!!
https://archiveofourown.org/works75132441
Love you lots mwahh ₊˚✧
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