IT (Excerpt)
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (Canadian-General) North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
do They float, float, The clowns grin widened. Oh, yes, indeed they do. They float and there's cotton candy. George reached the clown, seized his arm, and George saw the clown's face change. What he saw then was terrible enough to make his worst imaginings of the thing in the cellar look like sweet dreams. What he saw destroyed his sanity. In one clawing stroke, they float the thing in the drain, crooned in a clotted, chuckling voice. It held George's arm in its thick and wormy grip. It pulled George toward that terrible darkness, where the water rushed and roared and bellowed as it bore its cargo of storm debris towards the sea. George curved his neck away from that final blackness and began to scream into the rain to scream mindlessly into the white autumn sky, which curved above dairy. On that day, in the fall of 1957 his screams were shrill and piercing and all up and down, which, um, street people came to their windows or bolted out onto their porches. They float, it growled, They float, Georgie, and when you're down here with me, you'll float, too. Jorge's shoulder socked against the cement of the curb. And Dave Gardner, who had stayed home from his job with shoe boat that day because of the flood, saw on Lee, a small boy in a yellow rain slicker, Ah, small boy who was screaming and writhing in the gutter with muddy water, surfing over his face and making his screams sound bubbly. Everything down here floats that chuckling, rotten voice whispered. And suddenly there was a ripping noise on a flaring sheet of agony and George Dem Borough New No more. Dave Gardner was the first to get there, and although he arrived only 45 seconds after the first scream, George Dambrot was already dead. Gardner grabbed him by the back of the slicker, pulled him into the street and began to scream himself a Z. George's body turned over in his hands. The left side of Georgia's slicker was now bright. Red blood flowed into the storm drain from the tattered hole where the left arm had been. A knob of bone, horribly bright, peeked through the torrent cloth. The boy's eyes stared up into the white sky, and as Dave staggered away towards the others, already running pell mell down the street, they began to fill up with rain