Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34823985-20180430095534

I don't know what to think about this right now. This definitely still needs work, so I'd appreciate some feedback. -

No monsters lurked under Benjamin's bed nor was his closet a gateway to Hell. He understood these things just as he knew the skeletal hand scratching at his window was just a tree limb subject to the whims of nature. He also didn't buy into the false hope that the night light next to his bed was a talisman that kept ghouls at bay, or that his blanket shielded him from anything other than the cold.

Benjamin very much so believed in monsters. He just understood what most kids his age hadn't yet discovered. Real monsters don't have three inch fangs, or long, sharp claws. They don't have bright red eyes, slavering maws, tentacles, or an appetite for children; well behaved or otherwise.

No, real monsters looked like old Miss Tucker, the cross walk guard; the next door neighbor, Mr. Levinston; or the chubby boy that sits in front of him in health class. In other words, the real monsters looked just like ordinary people, and Benjamin was terrified of them finding out that he knew their secret.

He first became aware that something wasn't right in his sleepy little town when he witnessed the three of them entering the abandoned house on the corner of Chestnut and Bloom. Being a curious boy, he didn't hesitate to stash his bicycle in the bushes, and sneak over to the back side of the house.

The first window he peered into paid off with a clear view of the three of them coming down the basement stairs. He hunkered down low, and watched in awe as the plump, and often mean spirited crone pulled some strange object out of the utility sink. It was mottled green with an almost peanut shape to it. She carefully turned it around in her hands, inspecting it for Benjamin didn't know what, and then handed it to Mr. Levinston. He wiped it down with a rag, and then handed off the football size object to Benjamin's classmate who packed it into a box.

They kept at it until they had packed up three boxes of eight. Benjamin was so entranced by what he was seeing that he failed to notice his ankle was stiff, and sore from crouching down for so long. His ankle gave out underneath him and he fell forward, banging his head against the aluminum siding. He quickly rolled out of view of the window. Picking himself up from the patchy, moss laden lawn, he limped for the bushes. The frightened boy concentrated on slowing his breathing as he carefully slid into the bushes. Being a class A hide and seeker, he understood that rustling bushes and loud, labored breathing was a good way to end up counting to ten.

The tall, gangly middle aged man came around to the side of the house, and scanned the area. Benjamin fought valiantly against his urge to bolt for it when Mr. Levinston came within ten feet of him. The ghoulish Mr. Levinston spun around and looked directly where Benjamin was hiding. The boy didn't dare move a muscle. Each second slinked by like an indecisive snail unsure of which direction to go while the poor excuse for a sentry scanned the bushes.

Finally convinced that nothing had escaped his search, he went back around to the front of the house. Benjamin grabbed his bicycle, and got the hell out of there as fast as he could. The roulette wheel like clatter emanating from his spokes ramped up his fear, causing him to pedal harder, and faster than he'd ever pedaled before. A few minutes later he parked his bicycle in the garage, and ran into his house. His mom told him dinner would be ready in about thirty minutes as he rushed up the stairs to his room.

Benjamin flopped on his bed, and buried his head in his pillow. He couldn't comprehend what he had seen, but he knew he had to figure it out, and that frightened him. He didn't have much of an appetite at dinner, and he didn't have any luck concentrating on his homework afterwards. Lying in bed didn't bring sleep. His mind desperately searched for some reasonable explanation for what he had witnessed. His hope sank lower and lower as each passing hour brought the new day nearer to the Sun's rising.

Benjamin's constant yawning, dragging gait, and slouched, lazy posture on the short walk to school didn't match well with the blaring alarms going off in his head. He knew he had to devise a plan, and do it quickly, or everyone would be in danger. "Those that were still human... Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!" The ghastly thought fired a lead jacketed realization through his skull. "There could be lots of small groups like he spied yesterday completing different parts of the pod people's evil plot to enslave humanity!" The overwhelmed hero fell to the skin hungry sidewalk with an ugly slide that took him about three feet further than his knees and elbows deserved.

The cold, damp rag on his forehead flew onto the carpet as he slung himself up into a sitting position on his bed. His mother rushed over, grasped his shaking hands in hers, and lovingly pressed him back down. "Lay down sweetie. You had a terrible fall on the way to school. I don't know how I missed it, but you've got a high fever. If it doesn't improve soon you and I will be going to see the doctor, so no school for you today, buster." The defeated little boy closed his eyes, and was soon lulled to sleep by his mother's rhythmic side to side rocking, and cooing.

Terrifying visions of giant, pulsating seed pods, and carbon copy people with no faces swam through his feverish dreams. Suddenly he knew he was asleep. It was a sensation like he'd never felt before. "Was this," he wondered, "what it feels like while my duplicate is absorbing my mind, my memories?" The thought that his body could be disintegrating in his bed that very moment broke the bonds of slumber. He quickly opened his eyes, and threw back his covers.

The crisscrossing yellow and red stripes on his bed sheets were a major contrast to the varied hues of green running through his mind. The outer space themed wallpaper that lined every vertical inch of his room raised his awareness of impending doom. He leapt out of bed, and ran to his window. Everything was still and quiet on the darkened street below.

"There's still time to save myself, save the town. No one will believe such a crazy story, so it's up to me. I have to kill the pod people myself," he muttered under his breath. He knew he had to act fast before the night was over. He glanced at the clock on the wall, it was a quarter to one. He knew his parents would be asleep, so he quietly got dressed, grabbed his Mighty Midget Flashlight, and headed to the stairs.

Getting down the stairs quietly was a difficult task with his wobbly legs, and sweat stung eyes. His skin was burning up, sweat poured from his pores profusely. He feared he was too late. He knew he was succumbing to the duplication process. He gave up on stealth, and rushed for the back door. He yanked it open, and stumbled towards the garden shed. He knew he'd be no use to anyone if he didn't first save himself. He tore open the shed doors, and pulled them closed behind him.

A few moments later Henry sleepily assured his wife that the noise she heard was nothing to worry about. He yawned, "Go back to sleep, dear," as he rolled over, and shut his eyes. Within a few moments he had reestablished his regular snoring rhythm. His wife's tittering wheeze that Henry dubbed her giggle snore started up again not long after his.

Switching on his flashlight, Benjamin scanned the shelves of the pitch black shed. The beam of light quickly found what he was looking for, and wavered erratically over the tin container labeled 2-4 DOW Weed Killer, as he tried to steady his shaking hand. "Bingo! Dad swears by this stuff. It's his number one weapon in the war on weeds," he rasped. He pulled it off the shelf, and clumsily set in on the wooden floor with a heavy thud.

The delirious boy twisted off the lid with a grunt, realizing just how thirsty he was; ravenously so. "This," he thought, "Is just what I need to cleanse my system of those nasty alien spores or whatever the heck they are that are sapping my mind. Yes, this might very well make me immune to future spore attacks, so I can recover, and save the town." He knew he'd devise a sure fire plan once he could think straight again.

Raising up the heavy container, he poured a thick stream into his gaping mouth. The thick, eye burning fumes, and awful immediate searing sensation on his lips, and in his mouth, and throat didn't dissuade him from continuing to pour the steady flow of medicine down his gullet. The horrible pain in his insides just reminded him that 2-4d was the best curative in his personal war on those nasty soul stealing weeds. All medicines were hard to stomach, but he could feel it working already.

He finally upended the container which was much lighter now on to the floor beside him. It spilled all over his chest, lap, and began to puddle all around him as he began to sputter, and convulse. Yes, he could feel the evil spores withering inside him. He knew now that he was going to destroy the blight on his town. The white foam crawling from his mouth turned a sickening reddish hue. He slumped to his side, and strangely enough thought about how hard he had tried to stay up all night last Christmas to see Santa Claus.

Just as Benjamin was slipping beyond the reach of modern medicine, a boy laid in his bed just a few blocks away. He dreamed about that coming weekend when his grandmother, and uncle were going to show him how to make bird houses out of the gourds they had harvested. He was so looking forward to hollowing them out and painting them. Making homes for birds out of vegetables. Nature was so strange and unusual. It often seemed quite alien to him. 