The Pollen

         It was a quaint, quiet day in the city of Lynchburg, Virginia. Tom Patrick stood at the bay window in the front of his house watching the traffic pass by his house. Sometimes he wondered how a street so small could be so busy, but such thoughts were far from his thoughts today. It was thoughts of the unnatural thing that arose in his backyard. The purple behemoth with yellow stalks that dwarfed anything else that grew around it.
         It started that morning. Tom had decided to use his vacation that day. Not for any particular reason, it just felt like time. He had slept in late, only waking up to say goodbye to his wife, Linda and his two girls, Patty and Jessica. It was close to 11 o’clock when he went for his cup of coffee and noticed the strange, almost queer flower sitting in the middle of his backyard. His thoughts passed over it the first time but as soon as he looked down at his morning fix, he reverted his eyes back to the obstruction.
         He had never in his life seen anything remotely close to it. His first thoughts wanted to go out and have a closer look but he thought better of it. He had on only a bathrobe and slippers, and the neighbors had a tendency to spy around. He would just wait for his wife to come home and ask her what it was. She was proficient in such things.
         He went on with the morning, which was spent watching T.V. and lying around. Nothing too out of the ordinary for someone taking a day off.
         This could be a very good day Tom thought as he sat on the couch. It seemed, however, as the afternoon progressed that his thoughts more and more shifted back to that flower.
         In his attempt to stop his thoughts, he decided to look outdoor at the neighbors houses and then to the traffic thinking that beautiful day would be relaxing enough to quell his worries.
         His thoughts did not go away, though. They insisted to keep that flower in his mind. He had to take one more look. He didn’t want to but instead he felt he had to. No real reason could present itself in his mind.
         He went back into the kitchen and froze. It had grown. It was now as big as the bushes that bordered the fence. His fear could be measured in breaths now. Part of him wanted to turn and run out of the house and down the street. The other part, the larger one, wanted to go outside and investigate. He again didn’t understand why, but it was surely there like a thorn in the side.
         He wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing until he reached the flower. It was a truly hideous thing. Its stench was rivaled only by that of a rafflesia. Tom didn’t know anything of that, however. He was just mesmerized by its size. Before he could stop himself, he reached his hand out and tried to touch it. He withdrew it very quickly before he had made contact. There was no way Tom Patrick was ever going to touch that thing. Or so he thought. His thoughts shifted right back to touching the flower. He felt like he was obligated. He had to touch it. This time his hand did not stop. It felt it large smooth petals and moved his hand up towards the center.
         Suddenly he felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm and he pulled back immediately. The flower had moved. He was sure of it. The pain in his arm continued and it wasn’t until he looked away from the flower and to his hand that he noticed that two of his fingers were gone. He immediately scrambled to his feet and ran towards the house. He didn’t even pause to scream. His only thought was to get away from that abomination.
         When he arrived back inside his house he realized the pain he was in. Now the flower was moving, shaking in a violent sort of way. Something began to spew from its stamen. It was pollen. Large, yellow granules poured over the yard.
         It was like the swirling pollen was attempting to consume the house. Tom just stood in his kitchen and watched. He couldn’t see that plant but he was very sure it was still there. Especially with these results.
         “What is this all about?” He said to himself aloud. Something here just didn’t add up. This was all too much. It had to be a dream.
         “That’s it!. It is all a dream!” There was a look of maniacal lunacy on his face. All his cares disappeared in his mind. The throbbing pain in his hand completely dissipated. He was miles away from where he was a moment ago.
         Everything went back to perspective when the window in the kitchen started to melt. The pollen was eating it. He started to feel a bit of doubt.
         What if this is real?
         The pollen was now about halfway through the glass. It wouldn’t be too long.
         This couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
         The pollen was so very close to shattering the window.
         My hand? Suddenly the throbbing pain came to a head. This is real…
         That realization almost came too late. The pollen had broken the glass. Tom ran.
         He ran up the stairs. Tom found himself staring at the pollen head on as he slammed the door. He backed up quickly as the roar of the apparition of yellow powder tore at the door. The shear power of the malevolent pollen brought Tom to his knees in desperation
         I am going to die. He was more sure of this than he was of anything else in his life.
         In a moment’s time, everything stopped. The shaking and the roar disappeared like a summer storm. The world was quiet.
         It took several seconds for Tom to realize what had happened. When he did, he stood up and put his ear to the door. Not even the birds made a noise. When he reached for the door handle, he was half certain that whatever that was out there was going to tear him to shreds when the door swung open. Nothing did, however. Instead all he saw was an empty hallway. There was solemn but frantic sign of relief. He turned and that was when he saw him. He fell backwards and landed on his hands.
         It was a man about six foot two. He had a frail figure and what appeared to be a scar over his left eye. He stared at Tom with his one good eye.
         “Hello, Tom.” The stranger spoke.
         Tom couldn’t say anything. He just sat there with his mouth open.
          “Watch your mouth. You wouldn’t want to catch a fly.” The man let out a subtle and quite shrill laugh. “Never mind, friend. Come on. Stand up. Don’t be afraid. I am not here to hurt you.”
          He held his hand and Tom relunctantly took it after a pause.
          “I will bet you are wondering just who I am” The stranger asked.
          Tom nodded.
          “Well, that is a good question to ask a stranger who mysteriously appears in your house just after you were attacked by pollen from a evil plant in your yard. You seem rather rational after such an experience.”
          “Well, I guess nothing surprises me at this point.” Tom replied.
          “Understandable by a person in your condition.” The unnamed stranger then walked to the window and looked outside “ What did you think of it?”
          “Think of what?”
          “The plant.” He let off a rather evil smile.
          “What do you m…” He stopped and thought for a second. “It was you!!!”
          “Me what?” The stranger responded almost mocking Tom’s intelligence.
          “You are the scum that planted that flower!” Tom attempted to confront him.
          “Oh yes, of course I am. What did you think this was about?” He turned to Tom
          He could feel the anger from this man. It was intense.
         “How dare you insult me for something you don’t know anything about. Do you even know who I am?!?” He was yelling now
         “ No, you never told me!” Tom attempted to counter but it was no good. He could match the ferocity of the stranger.
         “What do you mean?” The man face was red.
         “You never told me.”
         “Oh,” The man regained his composure very quickly. “I’m sorry I exploded then. My name is Jerry Manchetti. I am the producer.”
         “The producer of what?” Tom asked, puzzled.
         “Why, the producer of The Pollen.”