"The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street"
by Rod Serling
ACT I
[Fade in on a shot of the sky...the various nebulae, and planet bodies stand out in sharp,
sparkling relief. As the camera begins a slow pan across the heavens.]
Narrator's Voice
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as
space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow -
between science and superstition. And it lies between the pit of man's fears and the
summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call
the Twilight Zone.
[The CAMERA has begun to PAN DOWN until it passes the horizon and on a sign which
reads, "Maple Street." PAN DOWN until we are shooting down at an angle toward the street
below. It's a tree-lined, quiet residential American street, very typical of the small town. The
houses have front porches on which people sit and swing on gliders, conversing across from
house to house. Steve Brand polishes his car parked in front of his house. His neighbor, Don
Martin, leans against the fender watching him. A Good Humor man rides a bicycle and is
just in the process of stopping to sell some ice cream to a couple of kids. Two women gossip
on the front lawn. Another man waters his lawn.]
Narrator's Voice
Maple Street, U.S.A., late summer. A tree-lined little world of front porch gliders, hop
scotch, the laughter of children, and the bell of an ice cream vendor.
[There is a pause and the CAMERA MOVES OVER to a shot of the Good Humor man and
two small boys who are standing alongside, just buying ice cream.]
Narrator's Voice
At the sound of the roar and the flash of light it will be precisely 6:43 P.M. on Maple
Street.
[At this moment one of the little boys, Tommy, looks up to listen to a sound of a tremendous
screeching roar from overhead. A flash of light plays on both their faces and then it moves
down the street past lawns and porches and rooftops and then disappears. Various people
leave their porches and stop what they're doing to stare up at the sky. Steve Brand, the man
who's been polishing his car and now he stands there transfixed, staring upwards. He looks
at Don Martin, his neighbor from across the street.]
Steve What was that? A meteor?
Don [Nods] That's what it looked like. I didn't hear any crash, though, did you?
Steve [Shakes his head] Nope. I didn't hear anything except a roar.
Mrs. Brand [From her porch] Steve? What was that?
Steve [Raising his voice and looking toward porch] Guess it was a meteor, honey.
Came awful close, didn't it?
Mrs. Brand Too close for my money! Much too close.
[The camera pans across the various porches to people who stand there watching and
talking in low conversing tones.]
Narrator's Voice
Maple Street. Six-forty-four P.M., on a late September evening. [A pause.] Maple Street
in the last calm and reflective moments...before the monsters came!
[The camera slowly pans across the porches again. We see a man screwing a light bulb
on a front porch, then getting down off the stool to flick the switch and finding that
nothing happens.
Another man is working on an electric power mower. He plugs in the plug, flicks on the
switch of the power mower, off and on, with nothing happening. Through the window of
a front porch, we see a woman pushing her finger back and forth on the dial hook. Her
voice is indistinct and distant, but intelligible and repetitive.]
Woman Operator, operator, something's wrong on the phone, operator!
[Mrs. Brand comes out on the porch and calls to Steve.]
Mrs. Brand [Calling.] Steve, the power's off. I had the soup on the stove and the stove just
stopped working.
Woman Same thing over here. I can't get anybody on the phone either. The phone seems
to be dead.
[We look down the street as we hear the voices creep up from down below, small, mildly
disturbed voices, highlighting these kinds of phrases:]
Voices Electricity's off.
Phone won't work.
Can't get a thing on the radio.
My power motor won't move,
won't work at all.
Radio's gone dead.
[Pete Van Horn, a tall, thin man is seen standing in front of his house.]
Van Horn I'll cut through the backyard...See if the power's still on Floral Street. I'll be right
back.
[He walks past the side of his house and disappears into the backyard. The hammer on Van
Horn's hip as he walks. The camera pans down slowly until we're looking at ten or eleven
people standing around the street and overflowing to the curb and sidewalk. In the
background is Steve Brand's car.]
Steve Doesn't make sense. Why should the power go off all of a sudden, and the phone
line?
Don Maybe some sort of an electrical storm or something.
Charlie That don't seem likely. Sky's just as blue as anything. Not a cloud. No lightning.
No thunder. No nothing. How could it be a storm?
Woman I can't get a thing on the radio. Not even the portable.
[The people again murmur softly in wonderment and question.]
Charlie Well why don't you go downtown and check with the police, though they'll
probably think we're crazy or something. A little power failure and right away
we get all flustered and everything.
Steve It isn't just the power failure, Charlie. If it was, we'd still be able to get a
broadcast on the portable.
[There's a murmur of reaction to this. Steve looks from face to face and then over to his car.]
Steve I'll run downtown. We'll get this all straightened out.
[He walks over to the car, gets in it, turns the key. Beyond it we see the crowd watching him
from the other side. Steve starts the engine. It turns over sluggishly and then just stops dead.
He tries it again and this time he can't get it to turn over. Then, very slowly and reflectively,
he turns the key back to "off" and then slowly gets out of the car. As they stare at Steve. He
stands for a moment by the car, then walks toward the group.]
Steve I don't understand it. It was working fine before...
Don Out of gas?
Steve [Shakes his head] I just had it filled up.
Woman What's it mean?
Charlie It's just as if…as if everything had stopped... [Then he turns toward Steve.]
We'd better walk downtown. [Another murmur of assent at this.]
Steve The two of us can go, Charlie. [He turns to look back at the car.] It couldn't be
the meteor. A meteor couldn't do this.
[He and Charlie exchange a look, then they start to walk away from the group. We see
Tommy, a serious-faced fourteen-year-old in spectacles who stands a few feet away from
the group, halfway between them and the two men who start to walk down the sidewalk.]
Tommy Mr. Brand...you better not!
Steve Why not?
Tommy They don't want you to. [Steve and Charlie exchange a grin and Steve looks
back toward the boy.]
Steve Who doesn't want us to?
Tommy [Jerks his head in the general direction of the distant horizon.] Them!
Steve Them?
Charlie Who are them?
Tommy [Very intently.] Whoever was in that thing that came by overhead.
[Steve knits his brows for a moment, cocking his head questioningly. His voice is intense.]
Steve What?
Tommy Whoever was in the thing that came over. I don't think they want us to leave
here.
[Steve leaves Charlie and walks over to the boy. He kneels down in front of him. He forces
his voice to remain gentle. He reaches out and holds the boy.]
Steve What do you mean? What are you talking about?
Tommy They don't want us to leave. That's why they shut everything off.
Steve What makes you say that? Whatever gave you that idea?
Woman [From the crowd.] Now isn't that the craziest thing you ever heard?
Tommy [Persistently but a little intimidated by the crowd.] It's always that way, in
every story I ever read about a ship landing from outer space.
Woman [To the boy's mother, Sally, who stands on the fringe of the crowd.] From
outer space, yet! Sally, you better get that boy of yours up to bed. He's been
reading too many comic books or seeing too many movies or something.
Sally Tommy, come over here and stop that kind of talk.
Steve Go ahead, Tommy. We'll be right back. And you'll see. That wasn't any ship or
anything like it. That was just a...a meteor or something. Likely as not--
[He turns to the group, now trying to weight his words with an optimism he obviously
doesn't feel but is desperately trying to instill in himself as well as the others.]
Steve No doubt it did have something to do with all this power failure and the rest of
it. Meteors can do some crazy things. Like sunspots.
Don [Picking up the cue.] Sure. That's the kind of thing - like sunspots. They raise
Cain with radio reception all over the world. And this thing being so close - why
there's no telling the sort of stuff it can do. [He wets his lips, smiles nervously.]
Go ahead, Charlie. You and Steve go into town and see if that isn't what's
causing it all.
[Steve and Charlie again walk away from the group down the sidewalk. The people watch
silently. Tommy stares at them, biting his lips and finally calling out again.]
Tommy Mr. Brand!
[The two men stop again. Tommy takes a step toward them.]
Tommy Mr. Brand...please don't leave here.
[Steve and Charlie can be seen beyond them. They stop once again and turn toward the boy.
There's a murmur in the crowd, a murmur of irritation and concern as if the boy were
bringing up fears that shouldn't be brought up; words which carried with them a strange
kind of validity that came without logic but nonetheless registered and had meaning and
effect. Again the murmur of reaction from the crowd. Tommy is partly frightened and
partly defiant as well.]
Tommy You might not even be able to get to town. It was that way in the story. Nobody
could leave. Nobody except--
Steve Except who?
Tommy Except the people they'd sent down ahead of them. They looked just like
humans. And it wasn't until the ship landed that— [The boy suddenly stops
again, conscious of the parents staring at them and of the sudden hush of the
crowd.]
Sally [In a whisper, sensing the antagonism of the crowd.] Tommy, please
son...honey, don't talk that way--
Man One That kid shouldn't talk that way...and we shouldn't stand here listening to him.
Why this is the craziest thing I ever heard of. The kid tells us a comic book plot
and here we stand listenin--
[Steve walks toward the camera, stops by the boy.]
Steve Go ahead, Tommy. What kind of story was this? What about the people that
they sent out ahead?
Tommy That was the way they prepared things for the landing. They sent four people. A
mother and a father and two kids who looked just like humans...but they
weren't.
[There's another silence as Steve looks toward the crowd and then toward Tommy. He
wears a tight grin.]
Steve Well, I guess what we'd better do then is to run a check on the neighborhood
and see which ones of us are really human.
[There's laughter at this, but it's a laughter that comes from a desperate attempt to lighten
the atmosphere. It's a release kind of laugh. The people look at one another in the middle of
their laughter.]
Charlie There must be somethin' better to do than stand around makin' bum jokes
about it. [Rubs his jaw nervously.] I wonder if Floral Street's got the same deal
we got. [He looks past the houses.] Where is Pete Van Horn anyway? Didn't he
get back yet? Suddenly there's the sound of a car's engine starting to turn over.
[Suddenly there is a sound of a car’s engine starting to turn over. We look across the street
toward the driveway of Les Goodman’s house. He’s at the wheel trying to start the car.]
Sally Can you get it started, Les?
Goodman No dice.
[He walks toward the group. He stops suddenly as behind him, inexplicably and with a
noise that inserts itself into the silence, the car engine starts up all by itself. Goodman whirls
around to stare toward it. The car idles roughly, smoke coming from the exhaust, the frame
shaking gently. Goodman’s eyes go wide, and he runs over to his car. The people stare at
the car.]
Man One He got the car started somehow. He got his car started! [The people stare,
somehow caught up by this revelation and somehow, illogically, wildly, frightened.
Woman How come his car just up and started like that?
Sally All by itself. He wasn't anywheres near it. It started all by itself.
[Don approaches the group, stops a few feet away to look toward Goodman's car and then
back toward the group.]
Don And he never did come out to look at that thing that flew overhead. He wasn't
even interested. [He turns to the faces in the group, his face taut and serious.]
Why? Why didn't he come out with the rest of us to look?
Charlie He always was an oddball. Him and his whole family. Real oddball.
Don What do you say we ask him?
[The group suddenly starts towards the house. In this brief fraction of a moment they take
the first step toward performing a metamorphosis that changes people from a group into a
mob. They begin to head purposefully across the street toward the house at the end. Steve
stands in front of them. For a moment their fear almost turns their walk into a wild
stampede, but Steve's voice, loud, incisive, and commanding, makes them stop.]
Steve Wait a minute...wait a minute! Let's not be a mob!
[The people stop as a group, seem to pause for a moment, and then much more quietly
and slowly start to walk across the street. Goodman stands there alone facing the
people.]
Goodman I just don't understand it. I tried to start it and it wouldn't start. You saw me. All
of you saw me.
[And now, just as suddenly as the engine started, it stops and there's a long silence that is
gradually intruded upon by the frightened murmuring of the people.]
Goodman I don't understand. I swear...I don't understand. What's happening?
Don Maybe you better tell us. Nothing's working on this street. Nothing. No lights,
no power, no radio. [And then meaningfully.] Nothing except one car - yours!
[The people pick this up and now their murmuring becomes a loud chant filling the air with
accusations and demands for action. Two of the men pass Don and head toward Goodman
who backs away, backing into his car and now at bay.]
Goodman Wait a minute now. You keep your distance - all of you. So I've got a car that
starts by itself - well that's a freak thing, I admit it. But does that make me some
kind of criminal or something? I don't know why the car works - it just does!
[This stops the crowd momentarily, and now Goodman, still backing away, goes toward his
front porch. He goes up the steps and then stops to stand facing the mob.
We see Steve as he comes through the crowd.]
Steve [Quietly.] We're all on a monster kick, Les. Seems that the general impression
holds that maybe one family isn't what we think they are. Monsters from outer
space or something. Different that us. Fifth columnists from the vast beyond.
[He chuckles.] You know anybody that might fit that description around here
on Maple Street?
Goodman What is this, a gag or something? This a practical joke or something?
[We see a close up of a porch light that suddenly goes out. There's a murmur from the
group.]
Goodman Now, I suppose that's supposed to incriminate me! The light goes on and off.
That really does it, doesn't it? [He looks around the faces of the people.] I just
don't understand this-- [He wets his lips, looking from face to face.] Look, you
all know me. We've lived here five years. Right in this house. We're no different
than any of the rest of you! We're no different at all. Really...this whole thing is
just...just weird--
Woman Well, if that's the case, Les Goodman, explain why—[She stops suddenly,
clamping her mouth shut.]
Goodman [Softly.] Explain what?
Steve [Interjecting.] Look, let's forget this--
Charlie [Overlapping him.] Go ahead, let her talk. What about it? Explain what?
Woman [A little reluctantly.] Well...sometimes I go to bed late at night. A couple of
times...a couple of times I'd come out on the porch and I'd see Mr. Goodman
here in the wee hours of the morning standing out in front of his house...looking
up at the sky. [She looks around the circle of faces.] That's right. Looking up at
the sky as if...as if he were waiting for something. [A pause.] As if he were
looking for something.
[There's a murmur of reaction from the crowd again. As Goodman starts toward them, they
back away frightened.]
Goodman You know really...this is for laughs. You know what I'm guilty of? [He laughs.]
I’m guilty of insomnia. Now what's the penalty for insomnia? [At this point the
laugh, the humor, leaves his voice.] Did you hear what I said? I said it was
insomnia. [A pause as he looks around, then shouts.] I said it was insomnia!
You fools. You scared, frightened rabbits, you. You're sick people, do you know
that? You're sick people - all of you! And you don't even know what you're
starting because let me tell you...let me tell you - this thing you're starting - that
should frighten you. As God is my witness...you're letting something begin here
that's a nightmare!
ACT II
[We see a medium shot of the Goodman entry hall at night. On the side table rests an unlit
candle. Mrs. Goodman walks into scene, a glass of milk in hand. She sets the milk down on
the table, lights the candle with a match from a box on the table, picks up the glass of milk,
and starts out of scene.
Mrs. Goodman comes through her porch door, glass of milk in hand. The entry hall, with
table and lit candle, can be seen behind her.
Outside the camera takes a slow pan down the sidewalk, taking in little knots of people who
stand around talking in low voices. At the end of each conversation they look toward Les
Goodman's house. From the various houses we can see candlelight but no electricity, and
there's an all-pervading quiet that blankets the whole area, disturbed only by the almost
whispered voices of the people as they stand around. The CAMERA PANS OVER to one
group where Charlie stands. He stares across at Goodman's house.
Two men stand across the street in almost sentry-like poses.]
Sally [A little timorously.] It just doesn't seem right, though, keeping watch on them.
Why...he was right when he said he was one of our neighbors. Why, I've known
Ethel Goodman ever since they moved in. We've been good friends--
Charlie That don't prove a thing. Any guy who'd spend his time lookin' up at the sky
early in the morning - well there's something wrong with that kind of a person.
There's something that ain't legitimate. Maybe under normal circumstances we
could let it go by, but these aren't normal circumstances. Why, look at this
street! Nothin' but candles. Why, it's like goin' back into the dark ages or
somethin'!
[From several yards down as Steve walks down the steps of his porch, walks down the street
over to Les Goodman's house, and then stops at the foot of the steps.
Goodman stands there, his wife behind him, very frightened.]
Goodman Just stay right where you are, Steve. We don't want any trouble, but this time if
anybody sets foot on my porch, that's what they're going to get - trouble!
Steve Look, Les--
Goodman I've already explained to you people. I don't sleep very well at night sometimes. I
get up and I take a walk and I look up at the sky. I look at the stars!
Mrs. Goodman
That's exactly what he does. Why this whole thing, it's...it's some kind of
madness or something.
Steve [Nods grimly.] That's exactly what it is - some kind of madness.
Charlie's Voice
[Shrill, from across the street.] You best watch who you're seen with Steve!
Until we get this all straightened out, you ain't exactly above suspicion yourself.
Steve [Whirling around toward him.] Or you, Charlie. Or any of us, it seems. From
age eight on up!
Woman What I'd like to know is, what are we gonna do? Just stand around here all
night?
Charlie There's nothin' else we can do! [He turns back looking toward Steve and
Goodman again.] One of 'em'll tip their hand. They got to.
Steve [Raising his voice.] There's something you can do, Charlie. You could go home
and keep your mouth shut. You could quit strutting around like a self-appointed
hanging judge and just climb into bed and forget it.
Charlie You sound real anxious to have that happen, Steve. I think we better keep our
eye on you too!
Don [As if he were taking the bit in his teeth, takes a hesitant step to the front.] I
think everything might as well come out now. [He turns toward Steve.] Your
wife's done plenty of talking, Steve, about how odd you are!
Charlie [Picking this up, his eyes widening.] Go ahead, tell us what she's said.
[Steve walks toward them from across the street.]
Steve Go ahead, what's my wife said? Let's get it all out. Let's pick out every
idiosyncrasy of every single man, woman, and child on the street. And then we
might as well set up some kind of a kangaroo court. How about a firing squad at
dawn, Charlie, so we can get rid of all the suspects? Narrow them down. Make it
easier for you.
Don There's no need gettin' so upset, Steve. It's just that...well...Myra's talked about
how there's been plenty of nights you spend hours down in your basement
workin' on some kind of radio of something. Well, none of us have ever seen
that radio--
[By this time Steve has reached the group. He stands there defiantly close to them.]
Charlie Go ahead, Steve. What kind of "radio set" you workin' on? I never seen it.
Neither has anyone else. Who you talk to on that radio set? And who talks to
you?
Steve I'm surprised at you, Charlie. How come you're so dense all of a sudden? [A
pause.] Who do I talk to? I talk to monsters from outer space. I talk to threeheaded green men who fly over here in what look like meteors.
[Steve’s wife steps down from the porch, bites her lip, calls out.]
Mrs. Brand
Steve! Steve, please. [Then looking around frightened, she walks toward the
group. It's just a ham radio set, that's all. I bought him a book on it myself. It's
just a ham radio set. A lot of people have them. I can show it to you. It's right
down in the basement.
Steve [Whirls around toward her.] Show them nothing! If they want to look inside
our house - let them get a search warrant.
Charlie Look, buddy, you can't afford to--
Steve [Interrupting.] Charlie, don't tell me what I can afford! And stop telling me
who's dangerous and who isn't and who's safe and who's a menace. [He turns to
the group and shouts.] And you're with him too - all of you! You're standing
here all set to crucify - all set to find a scapegoat - all desperate to point some
kind of a finger at a neighbor! Well now look, friends, the only thing that's
gonna happen is that we'll eat each other up alive--
[He stops abruptly as Charlie suddenly grabs his arm.]
Charlie [In a hushed voice.] That's not the only thing that can happen to us.
[Cut to a long shot looking down the street. A figure has suddenly materialized in the gloom
and in the silence we can hear the clickety-clack of slow, measured footsteps on concrete as
the figure walks slowly toward them. One of the women lets out a stifled cry. The young
mother grabs her boy as do a couple of others.]
Tommy [Shouting, frightened.] It's the monster! It's the monster!
[Another woman lets out a wail and the people fall back in a group, staring toward the
darkness and the approaching figure. People stand in the shadows watching. Don Martin
joins them, carrying a shotgun. He holds it up.]
Don We may need this.
Steve A shotgun? [He pulls it out of Don's hand.] Good Lord - will anybody think a
thought around here? Will you people wise up? What good would a shotgun do
against--
[Now Charlie pulls the gun from Steve's hand.]
Charlie No more talk, Steve. You're going to talk us into a grave! You'd let whatever's
out there walk right over us, wouldn't yuh? Well some of us won't!
[He swings the gun around to point it toward the sidewalk.
The dark figure continues to walk toward them.
The group there, fearful, apprehensive, mothers clutching children, men standing in front of
wives. Charlie slowly raises the gun. As the figure gets closer and closer he suddenly pulls
the trigger. The sound of it explodes in the stillness. There is a long shot looking down at the
figure, who suddenly lets out a small cry, stumbles forward onto his knees and then falls
forward on his face. Don, Charlie, and Steve race forward over to him. Steve is there first
and turns the man over. Now the crowd gathers around them.]
Steve [Slowly looks up.] It's Pete Van Horn.
Don [In a hushed voice.] Pete Van Horn! He was just gonna go over to the next
block to see if the power was on--
Woman You killed him, Charlie. You shot him dead!
Charlie [Looks around at the circle of faces, his eyes frightened, his face contorted.]
But...but I didn't know who he was. I certainly didn't know who he was. He
comes walkin' out of the darkness - how am I supposed to know who he was?
[He grabs Steve.] Steve - you know why I shot! How was I supposed to know he
wasn't a monster or something? [He grabs Don now.] We're all scared of the
same thing. I was just tryin' to...tryin' to protect my home, that's all! Look, all of
you, that's all I was tryin' to do. [He looks down wildly at the body.] I didn't
know it was somebody we knew! I didn't know—
[There's a sudden hush and then an intake of breath. We see a medium shot of the living
room window of Charlie's house. The window is not lit, but suddenly the house lights come
on behind it.]
Woman [In a very hushed voice.] Charlie...Charlie...the lights just went on in your
house. Why did the lights just go on?
Don What about it, Charlie? How come you're the only one with lights now?
Goodman That's what I'd like to know.
[A pause as they all stare toward Charlie.]
Goodman You were so quick to kill, Charlie, and you were so quick to tell us who we had to
be careful of. Well, maybe you had to kill. Maybe Peter there was trying to tell us
something. Maybe he'd found out something and came back to tell us who there
was amongst us we should watch out for--
[Charlie backs away from the group, his eyes wide with fright.]
Charlie No...no...it's nothing of the sort! I don't know why the lights are on. I swear I
don't. Somebody's pulling a gag or something.
[He bumps against Steve who grabs him and whirls him aground.]
Steve A gag? A gag? Charlie, there's a dead man on the sidewalk and you killed him!
Does this thing look like a gag to you?
[Charlie breaks away and screams as he runs toward his house.]
Charlie No! No! Please!
[A man breaks away from the crowd to chase Charlie.
As the man tackles him and lands on top of him. The other people start to run toward them.
Charlie is up on his feet, breaks away from the other man's grasp, lands a couple of
desperate punches that push the man aside. Then he forces his way, fighting, through the
crowd to once again break free, jumps up on his front porch.
On the front porch as a rock thrown from the group smashes a window alongside of him,
the broken glass flying past him. A couple of pieces cutting him. He stands there perspiring,
rumpled, blood running down from a cut on the cheek. His wife breaks away from the group
to throw herself into his arms. He buries his face against her. We can see the crowd
converging on the porch now.]
Voices It must have been him.
He's the one.
We got to get Charlie.
[Another rock lands on the porch. Now Charlie pushes his wife behind him, facing the
group.]
Charlie Look, look I swear to you...it isn't me...but I do know who it is...I swear to you, I
do know who it is. I know who the monster is here. I know who it is that doesn't
belong. I swear to you I know.
Charlie [Shouting.] What are you waiting for?
Woman [Shouting.] Come on, Charlie, come on.
Man One [Shouting.] Who is it, Charlie, tell us!
Don [Pushing his way to the front of the crowd.] All right, Charlie, let's hear it!
[Charlie’s eyes dart around wildly.]
Charlie It's...it's...
Man Two [Screaming.] Go ahead, Charlie, tell us.
Charlie It's...it's the kid. It's Tommy. He's the one.
[There's a gasp from the crowd as we cut to a shot of Sally, holding her son Tommy. The
boy at first doesn't understand and then realizing the eyes are all on him, buries his face
against his mother.]
Sally [Backs away.] That's crazy. That's crazy. He's a little boy.
Woman But he knew! He was the only one who knew! He told us all about it. Well, how
did he know? How could he have known?
[The various people take this up and repeat the questions aloud, registering fear, hate,
bewilderment.]
Voices How could he know?
Who told him?
Make the kid answer.
Man One What about Goodman's car?
Don It was Charlie who killed old man Van Horn.
Woman But it was the kid here who knew what was going to happen all the time. He was
the one who knew!
[Steve shouts at his hysterical neighbors.]
Steve Are you all gone crazy? [Pause as he looks about.] Stop.
[A fist crashes at Steve's face, staggering him back out of shot.
There are several close up camera shots suggesting the coming of violence. A hand fires a
rifle. A fist clenches. A hand grabs the hammer from Van Horn's body, etc. Meanwhile, we
hear the following lines.]
Don Charlie has to be the one - Where's my rifle--
Woman Les Goodman's the one. His car started! Let's wreck it.
Mrs. Goodman
What about Steve's radio - He's the one that called them--
Mr. Goodman
Smash the radio. Get me a hammer. Get me something.
Steve Stop - Stop--
Charlie Where's that kid - Let's get him.
Man One Get Steve - Get Charlie - They're working together.
[The crowd starts to converge around the mother, who grabs the child and starts to run
with him. The crowd starts to follow, at first, walking fast, and then running after him.
We see a full shot of the street as suddenly Charlie's lights go off and the lights in another
house go on. They stay on for a moment, then from across the street other lights go on and
then off again.]
Man One [Shouting.] It isn't the kid...it's Bob Weaver's house.
Woman It isn't Bob Weaver's house, it's Don Martin's place.
Charlie I tell you, it's the kid.
Don It's Charlie. He's the one.
[We move to a series of close-ups of various people as they shout, accuse, scream,
interspersing these shots with shots of houses as the lights go on and off, and then slowly in
the middle of this nightmarish morass of sight and sound the camera starts to pull away,
until we once again we’ve reached the opening shot looking at the Maple Street sign from
high above.
The camera continues to move away until we dissolve to a shot looking toward a metal
spacecraft, which sits shrouded in darkness. An open door throws out a beam of light from
the illuminated interior. Two figures silhouetted against the bright lights appear. We get
only a vague feeling of form, but nothing more explicit than that.]
Figure One
Understand the procedure now? Just stop a few of their machines and radios
and telephones and lawn mowers...throw them into darkness for a few hours
and then you just sit back and watch the pattern.
Figure Two
And this pattern is always the same?
Figure One
With few variations. They pick the most dangerous enemy they can find...and it's
themselves. And all we need do is sit back...and watch.
Figure Two
Then I take it this place...this Maple Street...is not unique.
Figure One
[Shaking his head.] By no means. Their world is full of Maple Streets. And we'll
go from one to the other and let them destroy themselves. One to the other...one
to the other...one to the other--
[Now the camera pans up for a shot of the starry sky and over this we hear the narrator’s
voice.]
Narrator's Voice
The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and
fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices - to be
found only in the minds of men. For the record, prejudices can kill and
suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a
fallout all of its own for the children...the children yet unborn. [A pause.] And
the pity of it is...that these things cannot be confined to...The Twilight Zone!
by Rod Serling
ACT I
[Fade in on a shot of the sky...the various nebulae, and planet bodies stand out in sharp,
sparkling relief. As the camera begins a slow pan across the heavens.]
Narrator's Voice
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as
space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow -
between science and superstition. And it lies between the pit of man's fears and the
summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call
the Twilight Zone.
[The CAMERA has begun to PAN DOWN until it passes the horizon and on a sign which
reads, "Maple Street." PAN DOWN until we are shooting down at an angle toward the street
below. It's a tree-lined, quiet residential American street, very typical of the small town. The
houses have front porches on which people sit and swing on gliders, conversing across from
house to house. Steve Brand polishes his car parked in front of his house. His neighbor, Don
Martin, leans against the fender watching him. A Good Humor man rides a bicycle and is
just in the process of stopping to sell some ice cream to a couple of kids. Two women gossip
on the front lawn. Another man waters his lawn.]
Narrator's Voice
Maple Street, U.S.A., late summer. A tree-lined little world of front porch gliders, hop
scotch, the laughter of children, and the bell of an ice cream vendor.
[There is a pause and the CAMERA MOVES OVER to a shot of the Good Humor man and
two small boys who are standing alongside, just buying ice cream.]
Narrator's Voice
At the sound of the roar and the flash of light it will be precisely 6:43 P.M. on Maple
Street.
[At this moment one of the little boys, Tommy, looks up to listen to a sound of a tremendous
screeching roar from overhead. A flash of light plays on both their faces and then it moves
down the street past lawns and porches and rooftops and then disappears. Various people
leave their porches and stop what they're doing to stare up at the sky. Steve Brand, the man
who's been polishing his car and now he stands there transfixed, staring upwards. He looks
at Don Martin, his neighbor from across the street.]
Steve What was that? A meteor?
Don [Nods] That's what it looked like. I didn't hear any crash, though, did you?
Steve [Shakes his head] Nope. I didn't hear anything except a roar.
Mrs. Brand [From her porch] Steve? What was that?
Steve [Raising his voice and looking toward porch] Guess it was a meteor, honey.
Came awful close, didn't it?
Mrs. Brand Too close for my money! Much too close.
[The camera pans across the various porches to people who stand there watching and
talking in low conversing tones.]
Narrator's Voice
Maple Street. Six-forty-four P.M., on a late September evening. [A pause.] Maple Street
in the last calm and reflective moments...before the monsters came!
[The camera slowly pans across the porches again. We see a man screwing a light bulb
on a front porch, then getting down off the stool to flick the switch and finding that
nothing happens.
Another man is working on an electric power mower. He plugs in the plug, flicks on the
switch of the power mower, off and on, with nothing happening. Through the window of
a front porch, we see a woman pushing her finger back and forth on the dial hook. Her
voice is indistinct and distant, but intelligible and repetitive.]
Woman Operator, operator, something's wrong on the phone, operator!
[Mrs. Brand comes out on the porch and calls to Steve.]
Mrs. Brand [Calling.] Steve, the power's off. I had the soup on the stove and the stove just
stopped working.
Woman Same thing over here. I can't get anybody on the phone either. The phone seems
to be dead.
[We look down the street as we hear the voices creep up from down below, small, mildly
disturbed voices, highlighting these kinds of phrases:]
Voices Electricity's off.
Phone won't work.
Can't get a thing on the radio.
My power motor won't move,
won't work at all.
Radio's gone dead.
[Pete Van Horn, a tall, thin man is seen standing in front of his house.]
Van Horn I'll cut through the backyard...See if the power's still on Floral Street. I'll be right
back.
[He walks past the side of his house and disappears into the backyard. The hammer on Van
Horn's hip as he walks. The camera pans down slowly until we're looking at ten or eleven
people standing around the street and overflowing to the curb and sidewalk. In the
background is Steve Brand's car.]
Steve Doesn't make sense. Why should the power go off all of a sudden, and the phone
line?
Don Maybe some sort of an electrical storm or something.
Charlie That don't seem likely. Sky's just as blue as anything. Not a cloud. No lightning.
No thunder. No nothing. How could it be a storm?
Woman I can't get a thing on the radio. Not even the portable.
[The people again murmur softly in wonderment and question.]
Charlie Well why don't you go downtown and check with the police, though they'll
probably think we're crazy or something. A little power failure and right away
we get all flustered and everything.
Steve It isn't just the power failure, Charlie. If it was, we'd still be able to get a
broadcast on the portable.
[There's a murmur of reaction to this. Steve looks from face to face and then over to his car.]
Steve I'll run downtown. We'll get this all straightened out.
[He walks over to the car, gets in it, turns the key. Beyond it we see the crowd watching him
from the other side. Steve starts the engine. It turns over sluggishly and then just stops dead.
He tries it again and this time he can't get it to turn over. Then, very slowly and reflectively,
he turns the key back to "off" and then slowly gets out of the car. As they stare at Steve. He
stands for a moment by the car, then walks toward the group.]
Steve I don't understand it. It was working fine before...
Don Out of gas?
Steve [Shakes his head] I just had it filled up.
Woman What's it mean?
Charlie It's just as if…as if everything had stopped... [Then he turns toward Steve.]
We'd better walk downtown. [Another murmur of assent at this.]
Steve The two of us can go, Charlie. [He turns to look back at the car.] It couldn't be
the meteor. A meteor couldn't do this.
[He and Charlie exchange a look, then they start to walk away from the group. We see
Tommy, a serious-faced fourteen-year-old in spectacles who stands a few feet away from
the group, halfway between them and the two men who start to walk down the sidewalk.]
Tommy Mr. Brand...you better not!
Steve Why not?
Tommy They don't want you to. [Steve and Charlie exchange a grin and Steve looks
back toward the boy.]
Steve Who doesn't want us to?
Tommy [Jerks his head in the general direction of the distant horizon.] Them!
Steve Them?
Charlie Who are them?
Tommy [Very intently.] Whoever was in that thing that came by overhead.
[Steve knits his brows for a moment, cocking his head questioningly. His voice is intense.]
Steve What?
Tommy Whoever was in the thing that came over. I don't think they want us to leave
here.
[Steve leaves Charlie and walks over to the boy. He kneels down in front of him. He forces
his voice to remain gentle. He reaches out and holds the boy.]
Steve What do you mean? What are you talking about?
Tommy They don't want us to leave. That's why they shut everything off.
Steve What makes you say that? Whatever gave you that idea?
Woman [From the crowd.] Now isn't that the craziest thing you ever heard?
Tommy [Persistently but a little intimidated by the crowd.] It's always that way, in
every story I ever read about a ship landing from outer space.
Woman [To the boy's mother, Sally, who stands on the fringe of the crowd.] From
outer space, yet! Sally, you better get that boy of yours up to bed. He's been
reading too many comic books or seeing too many movies or something.
Sally Tommy, come over here and stop that kind of talk.
Steve Go ahead, Tommy. We'll be right back. And you'll see. That wasn't any ship or
anything like it. That was just a...a meteor or something. Likely as not--
[He turns to the group, now trying to weight his words with an optimism he obviously
doesn't feel but is desperately trying to instill in himself as well as the others.]
Steve No doubt it did have something to do with all this power failure and the rest of
it. Meteors can do some crazy things. Like sunspots.
Don [Picking up the cue.] Sure. That's the kind of thing - like sunspots. They raise
Cain with radio reception all over the world. And this thing being so close - why
there's no telling the sort of stuff it can do. [He wets his lips, smiles nervously.]
Go ahead, Charlie. You and Steve go into town and see if that isn't what's
causing it all.
[Steve and Charlie again walk away from the group down the sidewalk. The people watch
silently. Tommy stares at them, biting his lips and finally calling out again.]
Tommy Mr. Brand!
[The two men stop again. Tommy takes a step toward them.]
Tommy Mr. Brand...please don't leave here.
[Steve and Charlie can be seen beyond them. They stop once again and turn toward the boy.
There's a murmur in the crowd, a murmur of irritation and concern as if the boy were
bringing up fears that shouldn't be brought up; words which carried with them a strange
kind of validity that came without logic but nonetheless registered and had meaning and
effect. Again the murmur of reaction from the crowd. Tommy is partly frightened and
partly defiant as well.]
Tommy You might not even be able to get to town. It was that way in the story. Nobody
could leave. Nobody except--
Steve Except who?
Tommy Except the people they'd sent down ahead of them. They looked just like
humans. And it wasn't until the ship landed that— [The boy suddenly stops
again, conscious of the parents staring at them and of the sudden hush of the
crowd.]
Sally [In a whisper, sensing the antagonism of the crowd.] Tommy, please
son...honey, don't talk that way--
Man One That kid shouldn't talk that way...and we shouldn't stand here listening to him.
Why this is the craziest thing I ever heard of. The kid tells us a comic book plot
and here we stand listenin--
[Steve walks toward the camera, stops by the boy.]
Steve Go ahead, Tommy. What kind of story was this? What about the people that
they sent out ahead?
Tommy That was the way they prepared things for the landing. They sent four people. A
mother and a father and two kids who looked just like humans...but they
weren't.
[There's another silence as Steve looks toward the crowd and then toward Tommy. He
wears a tight grin.]
Steve Well, I guess what we'd better do then is to run a check on the neighborhood
and see which ones of us are really human.
[There's laughter at this, but it's a laughter that comes from a desperate attempt to lighten
the atmosphere. It's a release kind of laugh. The people look at one another in the middle of
their laughter.]
Charlie There must be somethin' better to do than stand around makin' bum jokes
about it. [Rubs his jaw nervously.] I wonder if Floral Street's got the same deal
we got. [He looks past the houses.] Where is Pete Van Horn anyway? Didn't he
get back yet? Suddenly there's the sound of a car's engine starting to turn over.
[Suddenly there is a sound of a car’s engine starting to turn over. We look across the street
toward the driveway of Les Goodman’s house. He’s at the wheel trying to start the car.]
Sally Can you get it started, Les?
Goodman No dice.
[He walks toward the group. He stops suddenly as behind him, inexplicably and with a
noise that inserts itself into the silence, the car engine starts up all by itself. Goodman whirls
around to stare toward it. The car idles roughly, smoke coming from the exhaust, the frame
shaking gently. Goodman’s eyes go wide, and he runs over to his car. The people stare at
the car.]
Man One He got the car started somehow. He got his car started! [The people stare,
somehow caught up by this revelation and somehow, illogically, wildly, frightened.
Woman How come his car just up and started like that?
Sally All by itself. He wasn't anywheres near it. It started all by itself.
[Don approaches the group, stops a few feet away to look toward Goodman's car and then
back toward the group.]
Don And he never did come out to look at that thing that flew overhead. He wasn't
even interested. [He turns to the faces in the group, his face taut and serious.]
Why? Why didn't he come out with the rest of us to look?
Charlie He always was an oddball. Him and his whole family. Real oddball.
Don What do you say we ask him?
[The group suddenly starts towards the house. In this brief fraction of a moment they take
the first step toward performing a metamorphosis that changes people from a group into a
mob. They begin to head purposefully across the street toward the house at the end. Steve
stands in front of them. For a moment their fear almost turns their walk into a wild
stampede, but Steve's voice, loud, incisive, and commanding, makes them stop.]
Steve Wait a minute...wait a minute! Let's not be a mob!
[The people stop as a group, seem to pause for a moment, and then much more quietly
and slowly start to walk across the street. Goodman stands there alone facing the
people.]
Goodman I just don't understand it. I tried to start it and it wouldn't start. You saw me. All
of you saw me.
[And now, just as suddenly as the engine started, it stops and there's a long silence that is
gradually intruded upon by the frightened murmuring of the people.]
Goodman I don't understand. I swear...I don't understand. What's happening?
Don Maybe you better tell us. Nothing's working on this street. Nothing. No lights,
no power, no radio. [And then meaningfully.] Nothing except one car - yours!
[The people pick this up and now their murmuring becomes a loud chant filling the air with
accusations and demands for action. Two of the men pass Don and head toward Goodman
who backs away, backing into his car and now at bay.]
Goodman Wait a minute now. You keep your distance - all of you. So I've got a car that
starts by itself - well that's a freak thing, I admit it. But does that make me some
kind of criminal or something? I don't know why the car works - it just does!
[This stops the crowd momentarily, and now Goodman, still backing away, goes toward his
front porch. He goes up the steps and then stops to stand facing the mob.
We see Steve as he comes through the crowd.]
Steve [Quietly.] We're all on a monster kick, Les. Seems that the general impression
holds that maybe one family isn't what we think they are. Monsters from outer
space or something. Different that us. Fifth columnists from the vast beyond.
[He chuckles.] You know anybody that might fit that description around here
on Maple Street?
Goodman What is this, a gag or something? This a practical joke or something?
[We see a close up of a porch light that suddenly goes out. There's a murmur from the
group.]
Goodman Now, I suppose that's supposed to incriminate me! The light goes on and off.
That really does it, doesn't it? [He looks around the faces of the people.] I just
don't understand this-- [He wets his lips, looking from face to face.] Look, you
all know me. We've lived here five years. Right in this house. We're no different
than any of the rest of you! We're no different at all. Really...this whole thing is
just...just weird--
Woman Well, if that's the case, Les Goodman, explain why—[She stops suddenly,
clamping her mouth shut.]
Goodman [Softly.] Explain what?
Steve [Interjecting.] Look, let's forget this--
Charlie [Overlapping him.] Go ahead, let her talk. What about it? Explain what?
Woman [A little reluctantly.] Well...sometimes I go to bed late at night. A couple of
times...a couple of times I'd come out on the porch and I'd see Mr. Goodman
here in the wee hours of the morning standing out in front of his house...looking
up at the sky. [She looks around the circle of faces.] That's right. Looking up at
the sky as if...as if he were waiting for something. [A pause.] As if he were
looking for something.
[There's a murmur of reaction from the crowd again. As Goodman starts toward them, they
back away frightened.]
Goodman You know really...this is for laughs. You know what I'm guilty of? [He laughs.]
I’m guilty of insomnia. Now what's the penalty for insomnia? [At this point the
laugh, the humor, leaves his voice.] Did you hear what I said? I said it was
insomnia. [A pause as he looks around, then shouts.] I said it was insomnia!
You fools. You scared, frightened rabbits, you. You're sick people, do you know
that? You're sick people - all of you! And you don't even know what you're
starting because let me tell you...let me tell you - this thing you're starting - that
should frighten you. As God is my witness...you're letting something begin here
that's a nightmare!
ACT II
[We see a medium shot of the Goodman entry hall at night. On the side table rests an unlit
candle. Mrs. Goodman walks into scene, a glass of milk in hand. She sets the milk down on
the table, lights the candle with a match from a box on the table, picks up the glass of milk,
and starts out of scene.
Mrs. Goodman comes through her porch door, glass of milk in hand. The entry hall, with
table and lit candle, can be seen behind her.
Outside the camera takes a slow pan down the sidewalk, taking in little knots of people who
stand around talking in low voices. At the end of each conversation they look toward Les
Goodman's house. From the various houses we can see candlelight but no electricity, and
there's an all-pervading quiet that blankets the whole area, disturbed only by the almost
whispered voices of the people as they stand around. The CAMERA PANS OVER to one
group where Charlie stands. He stares across at Goodman's house.
Two men stand across the street in almost sentry-like poses.]
Sally [A little timorously.] It just doesn't seem right, though, keeping watch on them.
Why...he was right when he said he was one of our neighbors. Why, I've known
Ethel Goodman ever since they moved in. We've been good friends--
Charlie That don't prove a thing. Any guy who'd spend his time lookin' up at the sky
early in the morning - well there's something wrong with that kind of a person.
There's something that ain't legitimate. Maybe under normal circumstances we
could let it go by, but these aren't normal circumstances. Why, look at this
street! Nothin' but candles. Why, it's like goin' back into the dark ages or
somethin'!
[From several yards down as Steve walks down the steps of his porch, walks down the street
over to Les Goodman's house, and then stops at the foot of the steps.
Goodman stands there, his wife behind him, very frightened.]
Goodman Just stay right where you are, Steve. We don't want any trouble, but this time if
anybody sets foot on my porch, that's what they're going to get - trouble!
Steve Look, Les--
Goodman I've already explained to you people. I don't sleep very well at night sometimes. I
get up and I take a walk and I look up at the sky. I look at the stars!
Mrs. Goodman
That's exactly what he does. Why this whole thing, it's...it's some kind of
madness or something.
Steve [Nods grimly.] That's exactly what it is - some kind of madness.
Charlie's Voice
[Shrill, from across the street.] You best watch who you're seen with Steve!
Until we get this all straightened out, you ain't exactly above suspicion yourself.
Steve [Whirling around toward him.] Or you, Charlie. Or any of us, it seems. From
age eight on up!
Woman What I'd like to know is, what are we gonna do? Just stand around here all
night?
Charlie There's nothin' else we can do! [He turns back looking toward Steve and
Goodman again.] One of 'em'll tip their hand. They got to.
Steve [Raising his voice.] There's something you can do, Charlie. You could go home
and keep your mouth shut. You could quit strutting around like a self-appointed
hanging judge and just climb into bed and forget it.
Charlie You sound real anxious to have that happen, Steve. I think we better keep our
eye on you too!
Don [As if he were taking the bit in his teeth, takes a hesitant step to the front.] I
think everything might as well come out now. [He turns toward Steve.] Your
wife's done plenty of talking, Steve, about how odd you are!
Charlie [Picking this up, his eyes widening.] Go ahead, tell us what she's said.
[Steve walks toward them from across the street.]
Steve Go ahead, what's my wife said? Let's get it all out. Let's pick out every
idiosyncrasy of every single man, woman, and child on the street. And then we
might as well set up some kind of a kangaroo court. How about a firing squad at
dawn, Charlie, so we can get rid of all the suspects? Narrow them down. Make it
easier for you.
Don There's no need gettin' so upset, Steve. It's just that...well...Myra's talked about
how there's been plenty of nights you spend hours down in your basement
workin' on some kind of radio of something. Well, none of us have ever seen
that radio--
[By this time Steve has reached the group. He stands there defiantly close to them.]
Charlie Go ahead, Steve. What kind of "radio set" you workin' on? I never seen it.
Neither has anyone else. Who you talk to on that radio set? And who talks to
you?
Steve I'm surprised at you, Charlie. How come you're so dense all of a sudden? [A
pause.] Who do I talk to? I talk to monsters from outer space. I talk to threeheaded green men who fly over here in what look like meteors.
[Steve’s wife steps down from the porch, bites her lip, calls out.]
Mrs. Brand
Steve! Steve, please. [Then looking around frightened, she walks toward the
group. It's just a ham radio set, that's all. I bought him a book on it myself. It's
just a ham radio set. A lot of people have them. I can show it to you. It's right
down in the basement.
Steve [Whirls around toward her.] Show them nothing! If they want to look inside
our house - let them get a search warrant.
Charlie Look, buddy, you can't afford to--
Steve [Interrupting.] Charlie, don't tell me what I can afford! And stop telling me
who's dangerous and who isn't and who's safe and who's a menace. [He turns to
the group and shouts.] And you're with him too - all of you! You're standing
here all set to crucify - all set to find a scapegoat - all desperate to point some
kind of a finger at a neighbor! Well now look, friends, the only thing that's
gonna happen is that we'll eat each other up alive--
[He stops abruptly as Charlie suddenly grabs his arm.]
Charlie [In a hushed voice.] That's not the only thing that can happen to us.
[Cut to a long shot looking down the street. A figure has suddenly materialized in the gloom
and in the silence we can hear the clickety-clack of slow, measured footsteps on concrete as
the figure walks slowly toward them. One of the women lets out a stifled cry. The young
mother grabs her boy as do a couple of others.]
Tommy [Shouting, frightened.] It's the monster! It's the monster!
[Another woman lets out a wail and the people fall back in a group, staring toward the
darkness and the approaching figure. People stand in the shadows watching. Don Martin
joins them, carrying a shotgun. He holds it up.]
Don We may need this.
Steve A shotgun? [He pulls it out of Don's hand.] Good Lord - will anybody think a
thought around here? Will you people wise up? What good would a shotgun do
against--
[Now Charlie pulls the gun from Steve's hand.]
Charlie No more talk, Steve. You're going to talk us into a grave! You'd let whatever's
out there walk right over us, wouldn't yuh? Well some of us won't!
[He swings the gun around to point it toward the sidewalk.
The dark figure continues to walk toward them.
The group there, fearful, apprehensive, mothers clutching children, men standing in front of
wives. Charlie slowly raises the gun. As the figure gets closer and closer he suddenly pulls
the trigger. The sound of it explodes in the stillness. There is a long shot looking down at the
figure, who suddenly lets out a small cry, stumbles forward onto his knees and then falls
forward on his face. Don, Charlie, and Steve race forward over to him. Steve is there first
and turns the man over. Now the crowd gathers around them.]
Steve [Slowly looks up.] It's Pete Van Horn.
Don [In a hushed voice.] Pete Van Horn! He was just gonna go over to the next
block to see if the power was on--
Woman You killed him, Charlie. You shot him dead!
Charlie [Looks around at the circle of faces, his eyes frightened, his face contorted.]
But...but I didn't know who he was. I certainly didn't know who he was. He
comes walkin' out of the darkness - how am I supposed to know who he was?
[He grabs Steve.] Steve - you know why I shot! How was I supposed to know he
wasn't a monster or something? [He grabs Don now.] We're all scared of the
same thing. I was just tryin' to...tryin' to protect my home, that's all! Look, all of
you, that's all I was tryin' to do. [He looks down wildly at the body.] I didn't
know it was somebody we knew! I didn't know—
[There's a sudden hush and then an intake of breath. We see a medium shot of the living
room window of Charlie's house. The window is not lit, but suddenly the house lights come
on behind it.]
Woman [In a very hushed voice.] Charlie...Charlie...the lights just went on in your
house. Why did the lights just go on?
Don What about it, Charlie? How come you're the only one with lights now?
Goodman That's what I'd like to know.
[A pause as they all stare toward Charlie.]
Goodman You were so quick to kill, Charlie, and you were so quick to tell us who we had to
be careful of. Well, maybe you had to kill. Maybe Peter there was trying to tell us
something. Maybe he'd found out something and came back to tell us who there
was amongst us we should watch out for--
[Charlie backs away from the group, his eyes wide with fright.]
Charlie No...no...it's nothing of the sort! I don't know why the lights are on. I swear I
don't. Somebody's pulling a gag or something.
[He bumps against Steve who grabs him and whirls him aground.]
Steve A gag? A gag? Charlie, there's a dead man on the sidewalk and you killed him!
Does this thing look like a gag to you?
[Charlie breaks away and screams as he runs toward his house.]
Charlie No! No! Please!
[A man breaks away from the crowd to chase Charlie.
As the man tackles him and lands on top of him. The other people start to run toward them.
Charlie is up on his feet, breaks away from the other man's grasp, lands a couple of
desperate punches that push the man aside. Then he forces his way, fighting, through the
crowd to once again break free, jumps up on his front porch.
On the front porch as a rock thrown from the group smashes a window alongside of him,
the broken glass flying past him. A couple of pieces cutting him. He stands there perspiring,
rumpled, blood running down from a cut on the cheek. His wife breaks away from the group
to throw herself into his arms. He buries his face against her. We can see the crowd
converging on the porch now.]
Voices It must have been him.
He's the one.
We got to get Charlie.
[Another rock lands on the porch. Now Charlie pushes his wife behind him, facing the
group.]
Charlie Look, look I swear to you...it isn't me...but I do know who it is...I swear to you, I
do know who it is. I know who the monster is here. I know who it is that doesn't
belong. I swear to you I know.
Charlie [Shouting.] What are you waiting for?
Woman [Shouting.] Come on, Charlie, come on.
Man One [Shouting.] Who is it, Charlie, tell us!
Don [Pushing his way to the front of the crowd.] All right, Charlie, let's hear it!
[Charlie’s eyes dart around wildly.]
Charlie It's...it's...
Man Two [Screaming.] Go ahead, Charlie, tell us.
Charlie It's...it's the kid. It's Tommy. He's the one.
[There's a gasp from the crowd as we cut to a shot of Sally, holding her son Tommy. The
boy at first doesn't understand and then realizing the eyes are all on him, buries his face
against his mother.]
Sally [Backs away.] That's crazy. That's crazy. He's a little boy.
Woman But he knew! He was the only one who knew! He told us all about it. Well, how
did he know? How could he have known?
[The various people take this up and repeat the questions aloud, registering fear, hate,
bewilderment.]
Voices How could he know?
Who told him?
Make the kid answer.
Man One What about Goodman's car?
Don It was Charlie who killed old man Van Horn.
Woman But it was the kid here who knew what was going to happen all the time. He was
the one who knew!
[Steve shouts at his hysterical neighbors.]
Steve Are you all gone crazy? [Pause as he looks about.] Stop.
[A fist crashes at Steve's face, staggering him back out of shot.
There are several close up camera shots suggesting the coming of violence. A hand fires a
rifle. A fist clenches. A hand grabs the hammer from Van Horn's body, etc. Meanwhile, we
hear the following lines.]
Don Charlie has to be the one - Where's my rifle--
Woman Les Goodman's the one. His car started! Let's wreck it.
Mrs. Goodman
What about Steve's radio - He's the one that called them--
Mr. Goodman
Smash the radio. Get me a hammer. Get me something.
Steve Stop - Stop--
Charlie Where's that kid - Let's get him.
Man One Get Steve - Get Charlie - They're working together.
[The crowd starts to converge around the mother, who grabs the child and starts to run
with him. The crowd starts to follow, at first, walking fast, and then running after him.
We see a full shot of the street as suddenly Charlie's lights go off and the lights in another
house go on. They stay on for a moment, then from across the street other lights go on and
then off again.]
Man One [Shouting.] It isn't the kid...it's Bob Weaver's house.
Woman It isn't Bob Weaver's house, it's Don Martin's place.
Charlie I tell you, it's the kid.
Don It's Charlie. He's the one.
[We move to a series of close-ups of various people as they shout, accuse, scream,
interspersing these shots with shots of houses as the lights go on and off, and then slowly in
the middle of this nightmarish morass of sight and sound the camera starts to pull away,
until we once again we’ve reached the opening shot looking at the Maple Street sign from
high above.
The camera continues to move away until we dissolve to a shot looking toward a metal
spacecraft, which sits shrouded in darkness. An open door throws out a beam of light from
the illuminated interior. Two figures silhouetted against the bright lights appear. We get
only a vague feeling of form, but nothing more explicit than that.]
Figure One
Understand the procedure now? Just stop a few of their machines and radios
and telephones and lawn mowers...throw them into darkness for a few hours
and then you just sit back and watch the pattern.
Figure Two
And this pattern is always the same?
Figure One
With few variations. They pick the most dangerous enemy they can find...and it's
themselves. And all we need do is sit back...and watch.
Figure Two
Then I take it this place...this Maple Street...is not unique.
Figure One
[Shaking his head.] By no means. Their world is full of Maple Streets. And we'll
go from one to the other and let them destroy themselves. One to the other...one
to the other...one to the other--
[Now the camera pans up for a shot of the starry sky and over this we hear the narrator’s
voice.]
Narrator's Voice
The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and
fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices - to be
found only in the minds of men. For the record, prejudices can kill and
suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a
fallout all of its own for the children...the children yet unborn. [A pause.] And
the pity of it is...that these things cannot be confined to...The Twilight Zone!
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