Something New Had Happened

It/August 1958 

Something new had happened. For the first time in forever, something new. 

Before The Universe there had been only Two Things. One was Itself and The Other was The Turtle. The Turtle was a stupid old thing that never came out of its shell. It thought that maybe the Turtle was dead, had been dead for the last billion years or so. Even if it wasn't, it was still a stupid old thing, and even if the Turtle had vomited the universe out whole, that didn't change the fact of its stupidity. 

It had come here long after the Turtle withdrew into its shell, here to Earth, and It had discovered a depth of imagination here that was almost new, almost of concern. 

This Quality of Imagination made The Food very rich. Its teeth rent flesh gone stiff with exotic terrors and voluptuous fears: they dreamed of nightbeasts and moving muds; against their will they contemplated endless gulphs. Upon this rich food It existed in a simple cycle of waking to eat and sleeping to dream. It had created a place in Its own image, and It looked upon this place with favor from the deadlights which were Its eyes. Derry was Its killing-pen, the people of Derry Its sheep. Things had gone on. Then…. these children. Something new. For the first time in forever. When It had burst up into the house on Neibolt Street, meaning to kill them all, vaguely uneasy that It had not been able to do so already and surely that unease had been the first new thing), something had happened which was totally unexpected, utterly unthought of, and there had been pain, pain, great roaring pain all through the shape It had taken, and for one moment there had also been fear, because the only thing It had in common with the stupid old Tur- tle and the cosmology of the macroverse outside the puny egg of this universe was just this: all living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit. For the first time It realized that perhaps Its ability to change Its shapes might work against It as well as for It. There had never been pain before, there had never been fear before, and for a moment It had thought It might die - oh Its head had been filled with a great white silver pain, and it had roared and mewled and bellowed and somehow the children had escaped. But now they were coming. They had entered Its domain under the city, seven foolish children blunder- ing through the darkness without lights or weapons. It would kill them now, surely. It had made a great self-discovery: It did not want change or surprise. It did not want new things, ever. It wanted only to eat and sleep and dream and eat again. Following the pain and that brief bright fear, another new emotion had arisen (as all genuine emo- tions were new to It, although It was a great mocker of emotions): anger. It would kill the children because they had, by some amazing accident, hurt It. But It would make them suffer first because for one brief moment they had made It fear them. Come to me then, It thought, listening to their approach. Come to me, children, and see how we float down here …. how we all float. And yet there was a thought that insinuated itself no matter how strongly It tried to push the thought away. It was simply this: if all things flowed from It (as they surely had done since the Turtle sicked up the universe and then fainted inside its shell), how could any creature of this or any other world fool It or hurt It, no matter how briefly or tri. flingly? How was that possible? And so a last new thing had come to It, this not an emotion but a cold speculation: suppose It had not been alone, as It had always believed? Suppose there was Another? And suppose further that these children were agents of that Other? Suppose. suppose. It began to tremble. Hate was new. Hurt was new. Being crossed in Its purpose was new. But the most terrible new thing was this fear. Not fear of the children, that had passed, but the fear of not being alone. No. There was no other. Surely there was not. Perhaps because they were children their imagina- tions had a certain raw power It had briefly underes- timated. But now that they were coming, It would let them come. They would come and It would cast them one by one into the macroverse…. into the deadlights of Its eyes. Yes. When they got here It would cast them, shrieking and insane, into the deadlights.