A/N- Anyone who's watched the classic series "The Twilight Zone" is probably familiar of Rod Serling's rendition of "It's a Good Life". However, less people are likely to be familiar with the original short story, written by Jerome Bixby in 1953. The TV show for the most part stayed true to the original, but there are a few differences that I think should be noted before reading this story (which is based off the written version).

First of all, Anthony's TV was nowhere near as sophisticated as the clay dinosaurs from the episode. Instead, Bixby described it like this… "They just sat silently, and watched the twisting, writhing shapes on the screen, and listened to the sounds that came out of the speaker, and none of them had any idea of what it was all about. They never did."

Secondly, Anthony never did something so corny as turning someone into a jack-in-the-box. Bixby never says exactly what Anthony does, but this is how he describes it… " 'Bad man,' Anthony said, and thought Dan Hollis into something like nothing anyone would have believed possible, and then he thought the thing into a grave deep, deep in the cornfield." Much creepier than a jack-in-the-box, IMO.

The other character will probably not be familiar to readers unless you have seen the New Twilight Zone episode: The Collection.

Twilight's Children

Children of the Twilight Zone can be called more than simply special. Unique, they are set apart from the world of reality, of reason. How, then, are they supposed to connect with others? Today, however, two very special children will have the chance to meet, within the boundaries of the only world they've ever known: The Twilight Zone.

Anthony Fremont was lonely.

He was the only person left in all the world.

Oh, there were plenty of little creatures left, and even if there weren't, he could always make some more. He still enjoyed going out to the grove to spend time with them, making them happy. The people hadn't been like that. They had been confused… they wanted things, or thought they wanted things, and then regretted it when he tried to give it to them. They had made Anthony confused and upset.

For his entire life, everyone had striven to tell him how good things were, what a nice little boy he was, that everything he did was really wonderful. And then, sometimes, all of a sudden someone would go crazy and say that he was the Devil's child, or try to kill him, and everyone else would get upset. This made Anthony upset, too. So he would send the crazy person to the cornfield. Then everything would be good again.

A few years ago, 9-year-old Anthony had realized that everyone was lying to him. Everyone hated him… everybody wished he were dead. This made him so mad, he sent them all to the cornfield, everyone but his parents and Aunt Amy. After everyone else was gone, he thought his family would be happy, but they were miserable. He tried to make them happy… and it had worked, for a while. They went around cheerful all the time. Soon, however, Anthony realized they weren't really his family anymore. They were only happy because he made them be happy… and Anthony didn't think that was right. But if he let them choose, they would be unhappy, and Anthony didn't like that either. So he did the only thing he could think of… he sent them to the cornfield too.

He'd been alone for two whole years now.

Anthony thought he probably wasn't a good boy after all, so maybe it was good that he was alone. Then he wouldn't make anyone unhappy anymore.

Except, all alone, Anthony was the unhappy one.

For two years, he had amused himself. He had made pictures on the television for himself, but lately he was very bored of television. It was nice to watch twisting colors when you were six, but an 11-year-old wants something more exciting, and there wasn't anything else. He made it snow, and he would go out and play with his sled, but it wasn't much fun by himself. He went to his grove, and that was still fun, but he didn't want to do it all the time.

He thought about bringing the people back from the cornfield, but he didn't think that was a good idea. He remembered the time he had brought Mr. Kent back, and he had been all strange, and everyone had been upset, even Mrs. Kent. He didn't want to see everyone like that.

So he remained alone.

Danielle Randall was lonely.

She was the only person left in the house.

Well, except if you counted the dolls. But Danielle didn't. After tonight, she didn't think they would be her friends anymore. She looked down at the doll in her hands, wiping away a stray tear. Miranda probably wouldn't want to be her friend either.

The dolls had stopped scratching at the door now; they knew it was too late for them to do anything. But Danielle still stayed in her closet, afraid to go out and face them. Silently she picked up her wallet, which contained over 30 drivers' licenses. They all displayed pictures of bright young women.

Danielle had always been lonely. She thought her parents loved her, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't remember them ever telling her that. And they weren't around a lot, anyway. When she was much younger, Danielle had had a nanny to take care of her, while her parents spent the entire day at work. Now, however, she would take the bus home, and stay by herself in the afternoon.

They never left her alone at night, though. A year ago, after they had let the nanny go, young women had begun coming to the house to play with Danielle while they went to parties. Her parents had a thick book of instructions and everything, so things should have gone smoothly. They did, at first. Danielle enjoyed playing with the first girl who had come over, whose name was Amy. They had played games and watched TV and ate popcorn together. Amy was a lot more fun than Ellen, her old nanny. She'd been very sad when Ellen had left, but this made it much better. Danielle was sure that Amy would play with her like this every day.

Then things had gone wrong. Amy had left when her parents came home, and she hadn't come back for a week. Danielle fretted and wondered the entire time what she had done to her friend that made her want to leave and stay away. Then Amy came back. Danielle forgave her, or thought she did. They'd had a fun time. But when Danielle's parents had pulled up in the car, Amy had put on her coat.

"Where are you going?" cried Danielle in surprise.

"I have to leave," Amy gently explained. "Your parents are back now."

"No!" wailed Danielle, and threw her arms around Amy. "No! Why do you want to leave? I thought you were my friend!"

"Danielle," snapped Amy, frustrated. "Danielle, I have to…"

She had done it then. She didn't want Amy to leave. She wanted her to stay forever and play with her so badly that she had done it. A minute later, when her parents walked in the door, they found Danielle standing in the entryway, crying, holding a doll to her chest.

From then on, it had gotten worse and worse. Katie, Jenny, Shelly… she hadn't wanted any of them to leave. Sometimes she held out for as long as she could, letting them abandon her three or four times before she couldn't stand it any longer. Then she made sure they would stay and be her friends.

Her parents had bought her a big glass case for her to put all her dolls in. They had no idea where the dolls came from; Danielle had told them they came in the mail. So she had kept them in there, to keep them safe. She was afraid that if they got out, they would get stepped on, and lost. Danielle didn't want that. She made sure to take them out every once and awhile and play with them, so they wouldn't get lonely.

Then they had started getting out. Shelly had broken a vase, Becky had cut the TV cord, Mandy had made her trip and cut herself. But she thought it was because they were jealous, jealous that she played with other people sometimes.

After tonight, and what they had done to her and Miranda, she wasn't so sure.

Maybe they hated her.

Sniffing, Danielle set Miranda aside, reached for Miranda's drivers license, and slipped it into her collection. Then she sat back against the wall, and hugged Miranda to her chest.

Even so, she felt entirely alone.

Anthony was tired of being by himself. But there was no one to be with. And he was afraid if he called someone here, they would hate him, like everyone else did. Or that he would hurt them, and they would go to the cornfield, and then he would be alone and sad again.

He couldn't stand it any longer, though. So he thought of a solution.

"Bring somebody here," he said aloud. Thinking, he added, "Someone like me."

Anthony could feel it, the house as it came into his world. It dropped into existence on the street where he lived. He could feel the person who was crying inside of it.

He went there.

Anthony found himself standing outside a room. He was on the second story of a nicely decorated house, and he wondered whose it was. Then, quietly, he slipped into the room.

It was a girl's room, brightly decorated in pink. There were dolls strewn around on the floor, almost as if they were casualties on the battlefield. He could see no one in the room, but he could hear sniffling coming from the closet. So he opened it.

Sitting inside was a young girl, about his age. She was clutching another doll to her chest, as if it were her lifeline. Slowly, cautiously, she raised her head, and stopped crying.

"Who are you?"

"Anthony," he answered, slowly. He hadn't spoken aloud in so long. Reaching down to her, he helped the girl to stand.

"I'm Danielle," she said, sniffing once more. "How… how did you get in?"

"I came," he said simply. Then, "Why were you crying?"

She closed her eyes, as if willing herself not to start again. "Because I'm alone."

He stiffened slightly. "Why were you in the closet?"

"I was hiding," she trembled. "From the dolls. I thought they were my friends… I made sure they would stay here and be my friends, so I wouldn't be alone. But they trapped me in my room. They must have been real mad, and I was so afraid…" she sniffed.

Anthony felt something completely foreign to him then. He thought it was called protectiveness. And maybe just a tiny hint of respect.

"If they scare you so much, I could send them to the cornfield. They'd never scare you then."

Danielle's head snapped up, and a frightened look came into her eyes. "No!" she cried. "I have to keep them safe. I'm like their mom… and their friend. I can't leave them alone."

He glanced at the case. "Then I could make sure they never got out again, unless you wanted them to."

Blinking, she looked at him. "You could do that?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Help me pick them up."

Together, the two children picked up the scattered dolls and placed them on stands in the case. Then Anthony locked the case, and disappeared the key. "If you ever need it," he told her, "I can get it for you." Finally they walked downstairs and outside.

Danielle gasped at the early morning, for it was night were she had been. "Where… where are we?"

A shadow of a smile crept onto Anthony's face.

"My place," he answered, and held out his hand.

She took it, and suddenly neither child felt alone anymore.

Anthony and Danielle felt something else. They thought it was probably called "friendship".

And it was good.

Unable to connect with regular children, Anthony and Danielle made the only kind of friendship they knew how to have. It is unique in itself, as both children are. How, or whether, it will continue is a question that can only be answered inside the Twilight Zone.

A/N- And that wraps it up, folks.

I came up with the idea for this one-shot after I watched the new episode, The Collection. I had read "It's a Good Life" beforehand, and also watched its companion episode. Both stories really made me think, even though they were somewhat chilling at first, and I decided it would be interesting to see Anthony and Danielle meet. Hope you liked it!