Becoming the Malevolent Harbinger: A Terrifying Transformation into Pennywise the Dancing Clown

It begins subtly. A barely perceptible trickle of change. You are sitting comfortably in your living room, engrossed in a book, when you feel the first shift. There's a stretch in your skin, an itch in your scalp. Your hair is the first thing to go. You reach a hand up to scratch at your forehead and find it instead encountering thin tufts of bright red hair. You rush to the mirror, dropping the book. What you see reflected back at you is not human. At least, not the human you once were. The person looking back at you has a shiny, bald head speckled with occasional sprouts of fiery hair. Your scalp is stretching, pulling towards your ears, and your hair is burning off, leaving only tufts of crimson. Then comes the height progression - your limbs lengthening, bones aching as they grow too quickly. You grip onto the bathroom sink, your knuckles turning white. Your height lurches. You tower above what’s expected, an altitude unlike the familiar. The change in your face is the most terrifying part. Your cheeks widen grotesquely, becoming a caricature version of humanity. Your complexion drains into an unnatural, deathly pale, as if it hasn’t seen sun in decades, centuries even. Your nose, once small and unassuming, inflates into something bulbous, silly. Your mouth splits into a smile, a massive painted grin, so unnaturally wide that it feels like it is splitting your face in two. You strain your eyes open in panic, but they wait, and then bulge outwards, creating a monstrous gaze. Numbers of yellow, uneven, irregular teeth start to emerge, replacing your smooth set. Things are stretching, tearing and bruising, as you are forced into a new form faster than you can cope. The once cozy clothes you wore are straining at the seams – too tight around shoulders that have grown broader, trousers short around lengthened legs. As if in a painful transformation, a new costume already waits, replacing your old attire. A Victorian-styled gray suit with large orange button-like pom poms pushes its way out, swallowing your old clothes underneath. The pom poms swell around the pointy shoes that your feet are enlarging into. Just when you think the physical alterations are finally over, you're not at the end. As you break out into a cold sweat, strain against the unfamiliar skin you now occupy, your mind twists. You can still remember who you used to be but it seems foggy, distant. There's a gradual erasing of your past, your memories, your personality. It's painful and heartbreaking to try to claw back to who you were, to take hold of the disappearing fragments of your mind. Even as you try to fight, your learned empathy, your kindness, and your morality are diminishing. The innocent, bird-loving soul you used to be is gradually replaced by a new consciousness. It’s cruelty personified: sadistic, pitiless, and dominated by an unhealthy love for fear. It's ugly and monstrous and an affront to everything you used to hold dear. But it’s you now, a bully who'll feast on the fear of children. There's a giddy sort of terror that wells up in you. You relish in the darkness, enjoy the thought of the chase, of the slaughter. The thought of fear flooding children and “salting the meat,” sends a tingle of delight through you. In the end, you're left a monster. Maybe you still have fleeting moments of clarity, moments of nostalgia. But, you are no longer you. You are Pennywise, the Dancing Clown. Forever lost in the folds of the monster you've become.