1 This horror story that will not end for another 28 years, as far as I know, began in a small boat made of folded newspapers. The little paper boat stumbled along the rain-filled gutter, through the dangerous eddy, and down Wisham Avenue to the traffic light at the intersection with Jackson Avenue.On this afternoon in the autumn of 1957, the traffic lights at the intersection were not on, and all the rooms were dark.It has been raining for a week and the wind picked up again two days ago.Power has been cut to large parts of the town of Derry and has yet to be restored. A little boy in a yellow raincoat and red rain boots happily ran with the small paper boat.The rain hasn't stopped yet, but it's finally getting lighter.The raindrops hit the hat of the little boy's raincoat, making a pleasant sound... The boy in the yellow raincoat was named George Dunbon, and he was 6 years old at the time.His older brother, William, 10, known to most kids at Derry Primary as "Stuttering Bill," was at home with a bad cold and a coughing fit.It was the autumn of 1957, just eight months before the real horrors began and twenty-eight years before the truth was revealed.

The paper boat that George is chasing is Bill's masterpiece.While his mother played the piano in the living room, Bill sat on the bed with pillows on his back and folded the little paper boat for George. Three-quarters of the way from Wisham Avenue to the intersection was blocked by a few orange sawhorses, impassable to traffic."Town of Derry Public Works" was engraved on each sawhorse.Not far away, dead branches and fallen leaves and stones blocked the drainage ditch, and the rainwater continued to overflow.The rain first tentatively occupied a few finger-sized places on the road, and then greedily snatched it up—that was the third day of rain.By noon on the fourth day, the large pieces of wood were able to float like small rafts.Many residents of Derry Township became a little uneasy, and some jokes about Noah's Ark began to circulate.Although the Department of Public Works kept Jackson Street open, Wisham Street remained impassable from the sawhorses to the center of town.

But everyone agrees that the worst is over.At one point, the Kentucky River swelled so high that it reached its highest point on both sides of the Benron, and when it passed through the city, it almost overflowed the canal levee that channels the river.Now, a group of men were removing the sandbags they had hastily piled up the day before, George and Bill's father, Zach.Dunbang was among them.Flooding and damage seemed inevitable from yesterday's situation, because this kind of thing has happened before - the flood in 1931 caused millions of damages and claimed almost 20 lives.Even though it's been many years, it's still haunting.

Now the river is receding; but even if the new Bangor Dam rises again, the river will no longer pose a threat.The first thing to do is restore power, then forget about it.Just like Bill.Forgetting tragedies and disasters has become almost an art in Derry, as Dunban has learned over time. George stopped at the sawhorse.A deep ditch cuts the tarmac of Wisham Avenue almost diagonally.From the right side of where George stood, it followed the terrain for about 40 feet to the other end of the street.Little George laughed--the lonely laugh of a happy child echoing that gray afternoon.The changing currents carried the little paper boats into the rapids that formed in the ravines of the road.The rapids carried the little paper boats down William Street, faster and faster.George had to run as hard as he could.On the muddy road, rain splashed under his red wellies.The buckles on the wellies jingle as little George rushes toward his bizarre death.

Little George's heart was filled with simple respect and love for his brother Bill, and at the same time there was a trace of regret: if only Bill were here!Of course, when he got home, he would describe everything to his brother, but he knew that he lacked the ability to describe in detail. If it was Bill, he would definitely be able to make people feel immersive.Bill was gifted at reading and writing.But little George knew that this wasn't the only reason why Bill always got "A" in his exams and the teacher liked his compositions so much.Bill is not only good at describing, but also more sensitive to observation.

The raw material of the small paper boat is only one of the pages of the "Delhi News" classified advertisement, but in the eyes of little George, the boat that is almost roaring so far is definitely a torpedo boat in a war movie.The paper boat headed forward, breaking the waves, and went straight to the gutter on the left side of the rich Mu Street.Just at this moment, a new stream joined in, forming a large eddy, and the boat was about to capsize, but the boat held out at last.With little George's cheers, the boat adjusted its course again, and continued to drive towards the intersection of the two avenues.George ran on, chasing the little paper boat.Above him, dead branches and what little yellow leaves remained shivered in the October winds—the most relentless reapers of the year.

2 Bill sat on the bed and folded the little paper boat.His cheeks were still flushed, though the fever had finally subsided like the Kentucky River.Little George reached out to get the boat, but Bill took it away. "Go get some stone, stone, paraffin." "What is paraffin? Where is it?" "On the shelf in the basement," said Bill, "in a box marked 'Sea, Bay. Bring it, and a bowl, bowl, and a box of fire, fire, matches." George obediently went to get these things. He could hear his mother playing the piano, no, but music he didn't like to hear, dry.He could hear the raindrops on the kitchen window, which sounded pleasant; but the thought of going to the basement was uncomfortable, because he always had the feeling that something was waiting for him in the dark.His parents laughed at him, and even Bill said it was nonsense.

But he was still afraid, he didn't even dare to open the basement door to press the light switch, because he always had a stupid idea that he couldn't tell anyone: as long as he reached out to press the open sky, a terrible claw would catch him. His wrist... and dragged him into the dark, which smelled of damp, filthy, rotting vegetables. Too stupid!There is no such thing as a monster with teeth and claws, a hairy body, and a murderer for fun.There were just those freak killers that Hartley reported on the evening news—no monsters like that in basements, anyway.But fear still lingers.As George opened the door, his left arm clutching the door frame and his right hand fumbling for the light switch, the smell in the basement grew stronger and stronger, as if it was filling the world.It was the smell of an inescapable monster: it was lurking there, ready to go!It can eat everything, especially the flesh and blood of boys!

Little George closed his eyes tightly, and the tip of his tongue stretched out from the corner of his mouth nervously, like a root longing for water; at the same time, he kept persuading himself: Look at you, George!You are afraid of the dark! The sound of the piano came from far away, it sounded like it came from another world, illusory.The sound of the piano was to little George what an exhausted, drowning swimmer hears talking and laughing on a crowded beach. His fingers finally found the switch! He pressed harder—it was still dark.no power! George withdrew his hand quickly, as if touching a basket full of vicious snakes!He took a few steps back, his heart pounding.No electricity, he forgot - what should we do now?Go back and tell Bill he didn't get the paraffin because of the power outage?He was afraid that something more terrifying than a murderer would drag him into the darkness?Others may just laugh at him, but Bill will be better.He'd say, "Grow up, George! Do you want this boat or not?"

As if he had a heart-to-heart connection, he heard Bill's cry: "George! Where have you been?" "Come right away!" George agreed immediately.He stroked his arm, trying to smooth away the goosebumps on it. "I just stopped and got some water!" "Then hurry up!" George had to go down four steps until he reached the shelf.His heart was beating wildly, his hairs were standing on end, and his hands were cold.The basement door seemed likely to close at any moment, snuffing out the few lights from the kitchen window.It was growling under its breath—something scarier than psycho killers and Japs and cannibals and monsters in horror movies—and it was coming at him and tearing him apart.

The basement smells worse than usual because of the flooding.The Dunbang family's house was in the upper part of Wissam Street, and despite its higher ground, water seeped into the basement.The smell was unbearable, and I could only hold my breath. George frantically rummaged through the piles of things on the shelves—cans of shoe polish and shoe rags, a battered kerosene lamp, two empty beer bottles, and a Turtle wax jar—and for some reason he watched curiously. staring at the turtle on the jar, for half a minute... Finally, he finally found the Wan box with "Bay" written on it. George snatched up the box and ran up as fast as he could.He suddenly realized that the back of his shirt was still sticking out: maybe the monster in the basement would wait until he got the stuff, grab him by the back of his shirt, grab him, and—he blasted into the kitchen, " Slamming the door shut with a bang.With his eyes closed, he leaned his back against the door, holding the box of paraffin tightly in one hand.Sweat was constantly oozing from his arms and forehead. The piano sound stopped.His mother's words drifted to his ears: "George! Could you please make it heavier next time you close the door? That way you can shatter some of the dishes in the cupboard." "I'm sorry, Mom," George replied. "George, you're a piece of shit!" Bill shouted from his bedroom.Afraid that his mother would hear him, he lowered his voice. George snickered.Fear, like a nightmare, disappears when you wake up.Everything is over... "Where have I seen a turtle like that?" George thought as he walked to the match cabinet. But can't remember.just forget it. He took a box of matches from the drawer, a pocketknife from the shelf, and a bowl from the cupboard, and went back to Bill's bedroom. "You stupid, stupid, Joe, George," said Bill, with kindness in his voice.He moved back the glass, jug, medicine bottle, etc. on the bedside table to make room.There was also an old radio on the table, and it was playing Little Richard, not so violently as Chopin or Bach, but very softly, which made people feel a primal appeal.My mother, who had studied classical piano at the Juilliard School, hated rock and roll. "I'm not stupid," retorted George.He sat on the edge of his brother's bed and put the things he brought on the bedside table. "That's what you are," Bill said, "you're a big, stupid egg." Little George couldn't help giggling as he imagined himself turning into a big egg. "It's bigger than Augusta, the capital of our state." After Bill finished speaking, he was also happy. "You're bigger than the entire state of Maine." George Jr. began to fight back. The two brothers began to argue in low voices, saying that the other was a bigger and dumber egg.In the end, both brothers laughed. Bill laughed and began to cough so violently that his face turned red. The piano sound stopped again.Both brothers looked towards the living room, listening to the sound of the piano stool being pushed away and the mother's restless pacing.Bill put his arm over his mouth, coughing as best he could, and pointed to the water glass.George quickly poured a glass of water for his brother, and Bill drank it in one gulp. The piano sounded again——still.Stuttering Bill will never forget this melody, and even years later, when he hears this song, his heart will sink and his body will get goosebumps.He will never forget: George died on the day his mother played the piece. "Still coughing, Bill?" "No." Bill took out a tissue, coughed hard, spit the phlegm into the tissue, rubbed it, and threw it into the wastebasket next to the bed.Then open the box containing the paraffin and place a tube of paraffin on the palm of your hand.George watched silently.He knew that Bill hated to be disturbed when he was working, and when it was time to explain, Bill would always explain. Bill cut a piece of paraffin with a knife and put it in the bowl, then struck a match and put it on top of the paraffin.The torrential rain outside the window beat on the window from time to time, and the two children didn't notice it, just staring intently at the small yellow flame. "The wax was applied to keep the water out so the boat wouldn't sink," Bill explained.Bill stuttered a lot better when he was with George—sometimes not stuttering at all.But in school, his stuttering became very serious, and sometimes he even dared not talk to people.Whenever Bill flushed, his eyes narrowed, his hands clutched at his desk, trying to express himself, communication would stop and his classmates would look away in embarrassment.Sometimes—mostly, to be exact—he managed to get it right at last; but sometimes he failed.When he was 3 years old, he was involved in a car accident, and his mother said he stuttered after that car accident.George sometimes felt that his father and Bill himself didn't think that was quite the case. Almost all the paraffin in the bowl has melted.The flame also became smaller and smaller, gradually turned blue, and finally completely extinguished.Bill dipped his finger in the wax oil, and Ling Fang grinned and withdrew his hand abruptly.He smiled at George and said, "It's too hot." After a while, he dipped some wax oil on the boat with his fingers, and it condensed into a white film. "Can I try it?" George begged. "Okay. But don't get it on the blanket. Momma'll beat you." George dabbed some warm wax on the other side of the boat with his fingers. "Don't paint it so much, idiot," Bill yelled. "You want it to die on the first voyage?" "Sorry." "Okay, okay. Slow down." George finished painting one side of the ship and held the boat in his hands. "Great," he said excitedly, "I'm going to let it sail now." "Okay, let's go." Bill was also very happy.But suddenly he looked very tired. "If only you could go." George regretted very much.Although Bill always gave him orders, he always had novel ideas.It's more fun with him. "After all, you did it yourself." "I wish I could go, too." Bill was also a little frustrated.Then he told George, "Put on your rain gear. Otherwise you'll end up with me. Maybe you've caught it from me." "Thank you, Bill. It's a really nice boat." Little George did something Bill would never forget, something he hadn't done in a long time: He leaned over and kissed his brother on the cheek . "You must be infected, fool," Bill roared, still sweet in his heart. He smiled and said to George, "Put these things back. Or mother will keep nagging." "Don't worry." George put the boat on the paraffin box and carefully carried it out. "Joe, George?" George turned to look at his brother. "Small, be careful." "Hmm." Little George frowned.This should have come from my mother's mouth.It was as unnatural as the kiss he gave Bill. "I will." He walked out.Bill never saw him again. 3 Little George was chasing his little paper boat on Wisham Street.He ran fast, and the water flowed faster, and the boat was always ahead of him.At this time, he heard a low roar: in front of the small hill 50 yards ago, the water in the ditch surged in a semicircle and fell into a sewer mouth.Little George was stunned.A branch whose bark had fallen off flew into the air, fell into the sewer, struggled a few times, and disappeared.The boat was speeding toward that abyss. "No! Don't!" cried George, panicked.He was running after him, and for a moment he almost felt he was going to catch up.But he slipped and fell to the ground, making success come to naught.George's knee was scraped and he cried out in pain.He watched helplessly as the boat wobbled, sank into yet another whirlpool, and finally disappeared without a trace. "Shit! Bastard!" he yelled, pounding his fist on the ground.This made him more painful, and he couldn't help crying.What a fool he was to have lost his brother's paper boat! Reluctantly, he stood up, walked to the mouth of the sewer, then ran down, bent down and looked inside.The water made an eerie, hollow sound, as if falling into the boundless darkness.It was an extremely weird sound, reminding him of... "Ah!" He felt a burst of fear, and couldn't help but backed away. There were yellow eyes there, eyes of it that he had been dreading showing up in the basement but had never seen! "It's just an animal," George reassured himself.Maybe a house cat trapped here - thought so, but he was ready to run away at any moment.And he was already stunned by those eyes that were shining with cold light.He could feel the rough surface of the gravel under his fingers, and the flow of cold water on the gravel; he saw himself standing up slowly, retreating step by step... At this moment, a voice came from the sewer, a kind voice A pleasant voice—"Hello, George," it said. George blinked, trying to get a better look.He could hardly believe his eyes!This is like a well-made story, but also like a fairy tale movie.If he was ten years older, he would never believe what he saw.But he is only 6 years old this year. There's a clown in the sewers!The light inside was dim, but enough for George to see everything.A clown indeed, like the ones you see in circuses or on TV.The clown's face is white, with absurd clusters of red hair growing on either side of his bald head, and a painted smile on his mouth.If George had lived a few more years, he would have thought the clown was more of a McDonald's clown. The clown holds a handful of balloons in one hand, colorful like overripe fruit. The other hand held George's boat. "Want your boat, George?" the clown smiled. George laughed too.The clown's smile is irresistible. "Of course I want to." The clown laughed: "'Of course I want it, okay! Okay! And what about the balloon? Do you want it?" return. "Dad told me not to take things from strangers." "Your father was right." The clown was still laughing.George thought to himself, how do I think his eyes are yellow?His eyes were blue and throbbing, like his mother's and his brother's. "Yeah, let me introduce myself. My name is Bob Gray aka Pennyway the Dancing Clown. Pennyway met George and George met Pennyway. Now we know each other , we have become acquaintances, right?" George giggled. "I guess so." He reached out again...and drew it back again. "Then how did you get down there?" "The storm brought me here," said the Clown. "The storm brought the whole circus here. Can't you smell the circus, George?" George leaned forward.Suddenly, he could smell peanuts!And the smell of vinegar!The smell of white vinegar that is often put in French fries!He could also smell marshmallows, fried dough men, and faintly animals.He could feel the clamor of the circus grounds, and a damp, musty smell of floodwater, fallen leaves, and sewers, like a basement smell, only not so strong. "Of course I can smell it," said George. "Want a boat?" asked the Clown. "I repeat, I just don't think you want it very much." He smiled and held up the little paper boat.The clown wore a bulky silk robe with large orange buttons.A blue tie drooped across his chest.On his hands were big white gloves, like the ones Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck always wear. "Of course!" said George, looking down the sewer. "Another balloon? I have red ones, green ones, yellow ones, and blue ones..." "Can it float?" "Floating?" The clown grinned. "Of course, no problem! And marshmallows..." George held out his hand. The Joker grabbed his arm. George saw the Joker's face change. It was such a terrible face that it scared George out of his wits. "They can float." The monster in the sewer was humming.It gripped George's arm and dragged him into the dreadful darkness.There the water roared and roared, carrying the spoils of the storm into the sea.George craned his neck and screamed for help.The shrill cry pierced the rain curtain and echoed throughout Wisham Avenue.People ran to windows and hallways to see what was going on. "They can float," it growled, "they can float, George. When you come down with me, you can float too..." George's shoulder got stuck in the drain.Officer David Gardner happened to be home that day because of the flooding.Hearing the cry, Gardner rushed out of the house.I saw a little boy in a yellow raincoat struggling and screaming at the mouth of the sewer. His face was buried in the muddy water, making his cry into an indistinct bubbling sound. "Everything can float up below." That laughter made people tremble.With a tearing sound, little George felt a sharp pain and lost consciousness. Although it was only more than 40 seconds after the first call for help, George Jr. was dead when police officer David Gardner first came to rescue him.Gardner grabs the raincoat and drags little George out...George turns over - and Gardner utters a cry.The left side of George's raincoat was completely red with blood.Almost all of his left arm was gone, except for a piece of bone protruding from the hole in the raincoat where the blood kept gushing. Poor George's eyes were wide open, full of grievances. 4 An hour later, as George's mother was in the emergency department at Derry Hospital, Bill, stuttering and pale, sat on the bed and heard Dad weeping in the living room.Mother was playing in the living room when George went out, and now... Somewhere in the ground, the little paper boat was snaking along the water...for a while, it was accompanied by the dead body of a chick.After a crossroads, the dead chicken was swept aside, but the boat continued to move forward. The small paper boat rushed out of the dark sewer like an arrow, into the drainage ditch on the side of the road, into an unknown creek, and finally into the soaring Penabsk River.At this time, the sky showed a few traces of long-lost blue.The storm finally passed. The little paper boat wobbled, and sometimes it was filled with water, but it never sank; the brothers' waterproof work was not in vain.Its fate, no one knows.Maybe it will be picked up by someone, maybe it will be floating in the sea forever like the magic ship in fairy tales.All I know is its wanderings around the town of Derry; since then the boat has disappeared forever from the story.