He liked to make up stories. It was something he'd been doing for most of his life. He had just moved into a quiet little house, in a quiet little neighborhood. He wanted to write about the American dream. He wanted to write about nice normal people and their average lives. It was peaceful. He had finished unpacking and was planning on taking a bit of a walk. He figured he'd get to know the neighborhood, maybe meet a few of his neighbors.
He walked out his front door and started down the path. He spotted a young couple across the street and waved. They looked rather worried but waved back. He frowned a little. He couldn't imagine what they would be worried about. He supposed maybe it was because he was new. He hoped he wouldn't get that response from everybody. He shrugged a little and kept walking.
Idly he started a story in his head. There was a picturequese house next to him, with a perfect lawn and a gate that was tightly shut. He imagined that in it there lived a man and a woman, aged in their late 30's, no children. The woman was unhappy because she had wanted to be a movie star. Instead she had ended up a suburban housewife. He felt sorry for the imaginary woman so he decided that this house was merely a backdrop for a movie that she stared in. She was really the movie star she had always wanted to be.
"Cut!"
Cut? He turned and stared astounded at the man who had made the demand. The man, who was wearing a director's cap dashed up him. "Can I help you?" he asked. He stared at the director for a moment before answering, "Um...no. I'm sorry." The director huffed. "You're in our shot. Now I know everybody wants to be in movies but you really can't just walk out into the middle of a shot." He just kind of nodded numbly back at the man. "I'm terribly sorry. I..." He hurried away.
Well hadn't that been the darndest coincidence? He laughed a little to himself. He should have guessed really. The house had been way too perfect looking to be real. He had probably just noticed the cameras and not realized it. That was all. Silly, really.
He continued his walk and was nearly run over by a small boy. He grabbed the boy's arm. "Whoa there!", he said in what he hoped was a friendly voice. "What's the big hurry?" The boy struggled a little. "Aw please let me go mister! Those boys are going to pummel me real bad!" He let the boy go and turned to see a small group of boys, much bigger then the one they were after, running up the road. The first boy took off like a shot and the other boys ran right past him to get their prey. He frowned a little. While boys would be boys, it hardly seemed fair. Such a large group against such a small boy. He really ought to have some protection. He thought for a moment. What would a small boy like? A robot? An alien? Perhaps an alien robot? Yes, that would be fun. A large alien robot who would intimidate the group of boys. He chuckled to himself, but the laughter stopped as that same group of boys ran past him again, going in the opposite direction.
He paled and looked up, and up, and up some more at a shiny alien robot, with a small boy on its shoulder. The boy grinned and waved. He waved back sort of hesitantly. Well wasn't that just...something.
As he continued his journey, the strangeness just kept happening. Everything he imagined seemed to come true, no matter how bizarre it was. He thought he must be going out of his mind cause there didn't seem to be any other explanation. He thought maybe he should turn and go back home, maybe have a bit of a nap, when he saw a small diner and realized he was hungry.
He entered and sat down, trying hard not to look at anybody or think anything. He knew it must be his imagination playing tricks on him, but it hardly seemed fair to subject everybody to his hallucinations. The waitress approached him. "Hey sugar, you look new. You just passing by?" He shook his head. "No," he said. "I've moved in. I plan on staying awhile." The waitress nodded and smiled. "Well, welcome. You look a little nervous. Somebody giving you trouble." He hesitated. He knew he should just keep his mouth shut but somehow this woman seemed dependable, and if he imagined she was then she must be...right? He slowly told her everything but kept his eyes on the salt shaker in front of him. Maybe if she decided to call the authorities he could imagine the salt shaker was a time machine and go back to before he'd stupidly said anything.
When he finished, he looked up. Surprisingly the woman didn't look troubled or uncomfortable or...anything really. She just sort of nodded. "Yeah, we get stuff like that all the time in Twilight. It's kind of weird place." She smiled at him. "I think you'll fit in just fine, Mr...?"
He smiled back, a little unsurely. "Serling. Rod Serling.", he answered.
"And what do you do, Mr. Serling?"
Rod looked out the window and saw movie cameras and a large clanky alien robot. He smiled a little wider and looked back at the waitress. "I write stories."