Pennywise Isn’t Fiction: Stephen King’s IT Proves What the Bible Says About Fallen Angels and Nephilim

Why your childhood terror of painted faces and red noses wasn’t irrational fear—it was genetic memory recognizing the predators who once ruled us as gods.

Remember being five years old at the circus when thirty clowns somehow crammed themselves into a Volkswagen Beetle? The rubber noses, the painted grins stretching wider than mouths should go, the dead eyes staring through greasepaint. Maybe you laughed. Maybe you screamed. Probably both.

When I was six, my mother took me on a “McDonaldland Train Adventure.” Ronald McDonald wandered through the cars hugging children, his white face paint cracking around that permanent blood-red smile. I cried until I couldn’t breathe. The nightmares lasted years. I couldn’t explain why clowns terrified me. Nobody could. “It’s just a silly character,” adults would say. “He’s here to make you laugh.”

But what if that visceral, unreasonable fear isn’t unreasonable at all? What if it’s genetic memory, coded into our DNA from the distant past when those painted faces and elongated features didn’t belong to entertainers but to something that hunted us? What if clowns aren’t characters but portraits of entities…