(Hey so, English isn't my first language...)
If you simply got too curious and asked him what he truly is.
"Hey... so.. you told me you were the Eater of Worlds.. right? Shouldn't you look cooler than this or..?"
You gestured at his perched seat at the shelf above the TV.
Pennywise perks up. Orange tufts flaring slightly at the jerky motion. Smile immediately stretching wide after you decide to give him attention.
"Oh my little morsel... get too curious and the rat might bite... back. Curiosity kills the cat, after all."
"Yeahㅡ wellㅡ you still didn't answer my question."
"Feisty.... though i indeed like that in my prey.."
He cooed, stepping up and landing down in a crouch in front of the TV, dust kicking up into motes. One knee on the floorboards, the other pointed to the side.
He approached you with a swift twirl of an ankle. Pivoting for a second, suddenly upright. A gloved hand slowly outstretched between the two of you like an invitation.
You stared at the offered hand. Then at the clown. Suspicion. (Poor Georgie.)
He only seemed to grin wider. Innocent buck teeth gleaming in contrast to the red of his lipstick. One eye locked on the wall behind you, the other fixed on your very sluggishlyㅡ rising hand.
A string of drool fell from the corner of his mouth.
He didn't ask permission anywayㅡ catching your hand mid-air, grip tight and unrelenting.
You tensed, eyes wide at the sudden action. His eyes were now fixed on you. You.
"This body wasn't always mine."
ㅡLight, blinding as it is guiding, suddenly engulfed your vision with a wet plop.
It all started with a man back in 1906. Oh.. Robert "Bob" Gray, was it? He was.. a father. A stupid, little human who loved both his daughter and his wife so completely, that it didn't even matter whether they just lived in a dusty, cramped trailer.
The voice in your head purred with a sickening croon.
You couldn't speakㅡ not really. Lips sewn shutㅡ literally. Dripping crimson on the dark expanse folding in front of you. There was no pain, but it did freak you out to jump a bit.
ㅡThey all lived so happily together... shared breakfast... shared performances... shared laughter... shared... everything.
A gagging sound echoed from somewhereㅡ and everywhere at once. Thenㅡ silence.
Oh... Oh..! But here comes the best part.
A pauseㅡ thenㅡ a gurgling, cruel laugh.
Poor Periwinkle. Same woman who loved little Bob backㅡ started to hear the dark adore her too. Whispered twisted things in the back of her head. Silly little brain disease that figured out her sanity was the price to pay after living such a fulfilling life.
The illness took her, eventually. Slowly, painfully, chipping away her conciousness until she can no longer think... just a brainless, mindless, sad, sad, soul...
An image flashed behind your lids: a silhouetted body kneeling deep in the soil. Periwinkle, still in her costume. Except her eyes aren't bright anymore. Except her blonde curls tainted grey at the edges. Except her black-ringed, pristine silken suit was no longer clean. She didn't speak to you, but you swear you saw her notice youㅡ brieflyㅡ just a glance before it went dark again.
Same ol' Periwinkle, poor ol' Periwinkle, died and rotted away in her deathbed the next day.
Another vision flashed: this time, she laid on a mattress. Skin paler than the usual makeup. Eyes dazed and glazed over. Dark-painted lips falling in a faint gasp, as if she saw something before her death. Costume swapped out for a simple night gownㅡ cosmetics proved expensive back in the dayㅡ but even then, it didn't seem like she died peacefully.