Horribly old.  Horrible pretentious and overblown.  but not lacking in significance (:

Before I just never bothered drawing it in but...I realized- It has no legs.  It's skin is stapled and pinned down over It's pelvis- which is made of steel.  Half of It's spine is made of chain, which in turn extends down, anchoring It to a rail.  It goes on for miles and miles and miles in all directions.

    It lives in a huge labyrinth, that matches and is the flipside insideout of still*borne's world. And It follows her,  Dragging Itself along using a rail above It's head and running parrallel to the one It's chained to, to give it leverage.  Unhooking it's runner from one rail and swapping to another as It weaves through and through and through.  It has a sort of synesthesia, I think.  Because as It moves through the tunnels, It sees where still*borne is going and changes course accordingly.  A ghostly, rose tinted image floating semi seethrough in front of It's normal plane of vision.  

And just like It can see her, SHE can see IT.  Like a shadow out of the corner of her one (badlydamagedandconstantlyseeping) eye.  It can't touch her.  Not that it needs to.  It feeds off of emotions - much like dandelo and pennywise (Read IT or the Dark Tower by Stephen King) so really, It's only function is to scare the bejesus out of her.

It rushes on, on it's rusty caster on that rattly old rail, pushing and dragging It'self along with It's hands, fingernails snagging and ripping free of their cuticles on the rough concrete and wire walls.  Cold wind whipping into it's pulledbackmouth, stinging it's teeth and coating it's lidless eyes in dust and grit.  When it reaches the center of It's maze, it goes straight on back to the start and does it over

and over

again.

    I realized I'm like IT in more ways than I'd like to admit.  

Going round and round in circles, doing the same thing, having the same effect on people and on myself wherever I go.  And when I'm done, I go back and do it to someone else someplace else.  

And it's repeated again on a deeper level.  It goes round and round, like my life goes round and round, like IT keeps going round and round and resurfacing in my mind time and time again.  For ooh, twoandabit years now.  But I've been going round and round in little circles going back to the start. repeatasnecessary.  

I find it insulting to myself and to It that I tried to call it pandé, dressed it up like a jester.  Made it a fool, dressed in purple and green with little silver bells on It's toes.  What the FUCK was I thinking?  Trying to prod at things that I shouldn't have.  NEVER allowing things to settle and slip to the back of my mind.

It has everything to do with the rabbit, and the one episode in my life that has ever truly disturbed me.  It kept playing on and through my mind for months, and the fucking -nightmares- that were churned out of my tiny skull because of that one fucking incident with the rabbit- and the taking away of it.  It' made me -obsessed- too scared to go down to where it's buried (that's all it is now...an it.  Can't think of is anything else, still.)  and it's not going to get any better because I keep picking and picking at the hole, fraying it's edges.  Always in the back of my mind, seeing IT and imagining what she must have looked like, with her throat hanging out and trailing in the dust next to her, neck snapped and eyes glazed and filled with blood and seeing the shape of it through the bag as my parents dutifully kept her out of sight.   They go hand in hand, behind my eyes.  Like she is to IT, So IT is to me.

Oh Fiona, you better pray nothing bigger in your life is ever taken away because frankly, darling, you couldn't take it.