We Don't Talk to Edith Thompson

September 2nd, 2025-8:35 AM

"W-what do you mean, 'we don't talk to Edith Thompson'?" I ask, mind still spinning from the confusing revelation. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would an entire community, unanimously, decide to publicly shun a weird teen girl? Like, what did she do? What does she know? Rubbing both my temples, I continue, "Is that girl Edith Thompson? Why doesn't anyone talk to or acknowledge her? What happens if you do talk to her?"

The guys bang their heads on the table softly as the girls answer. "Yes, it's something the town decided a long time ago, and we don't know."

"That's it!?" I whisper-scream. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! There's got to be a reason behind it!" I tap on the table harder with each sentence. "People don't just do that!"

“We do, so just don’t.” The girls lean in close. “Talk. To. Edith Thompson, got it?”

Trent clears his throat. “I think, since Suzy’s new, she should get a one-time pass.” The girls cross their arms in annoyance. He holds up his hands in defense. “If she gets caught doing it again, we’ll go bring it to the town council.”

Seriously? Talking to someone is a crime punishable by the town itself? What crazy cult have I moved into?

Eric pipes in, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m cool with that, ladies?”

After conversing briefly, the girls nod in agreement. Sabrina says, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, okay?” Fluttering her eyelashes. “I would hate to lose such a pretty friend.”

Everything about this arrangement makes me uncomfortable. They are basically saying I should straight-up ignore a human’s existence. She is, albeit, a little weird, but not in a serial killer way. Also, the circumstances of our chat were unique. I was thanking her for helping me, so should it count against me? I need more information.

Mrs. Smith began her lesson by introducing me to the class, expressing the importance of being open and friendly to all we meet. The class nods collectively. I snort internally. What a bunch of hypocrites! She asks me to stand up and tell everyone five things about myself. A shiver of awkwardness surges through me. I wasn’t prepared to speak to literally half the school today! With a sigh, I obey, fidgeting with my cardigan sleeve as I spoke. “Let’s see… well, I’m originally from Sacramento, California, my family relocated to Boston for my dad's job, this is my second new school in less than a year, I hate the security guard already, and I’m about to turn 18 on Halloween.”

Several people whoop in excitement at my last statement. I guess it’s a big holiday around here.

As if sensing my curiosity, Mrs. Smith beams, “As it turns out, Halloween is a massive event in these parts. In the old days, Danvers, once called Salem’s Village, was filled with Pagan practices. Animal sacrifice, witchcraft, you name it! Samhain was a celebration that marked the end of harvest season and ushered in winter. Eventually, this was turned into what we call Halloween. Salem’s Village was divided, converted to Christianity, became a separate entity, and was renamed Danvers. You are likely familiar with Salem.” I nod. Everyone knows Salem, Massachusetts.

“So is there a big party or something?” I ask, curious how this strange town celebrates the holiday.

“Actually, the town council decided to keep things as accurate as possible, to celebrate like our ancestors did in the 17th century!” Mrs. Smith places her hand affectionately on my shoulder. “Costumes are optional, but encouraged. Trust me, you’ll love it.” She pats me on the back. “Thank you, Ms. Thorn. Please take your seat.

The next few weeks go by in a flash and without incident. However, it has not been without difficulty. Although I don’t agree with it, I have been avoiding Edith Thompson. Which, according to Sabrina, should be simple. Don’t look at her, don’t talk to her, don’t walk near her, and if possible, don’t think about her. If I follow all of that, everything will be fine. It’s not! How can I not think about someone that I have to avoid specifically, at all times? I have to constantly be aware of where she is and what she’s doing to avoid conversation or interaction. Sorry, Sabrina, I have to think about her. Minimally, at least. On top of all that, everywhere I turn, Edith’s there. Staring at me, walking near me, dropping things in my presence in hopes I’ll pick them up. It’s like she's doing it on purpose. Is it to befriend or mock me? Either reason is maddening.

Despite all the drama with my new friend group, avoiding the town pariah, and adjusting to my new environment, I am grateful. My days are fairly peaceful and settled into a new routine. Not once have I thought about the beautiful beaches of California, about Dad’s affair, or had to put on a facade to be liked. Unlike the teens I sort of associated with back then, my group is pretty solid. Sabrina, Karina, Amara, Trent, and Eric appear to like me as I am. As long as I don’t slip up, that is. Conditional friendships are not for the faint of heart.

Mrs. Smith’s classroom is reassigned to the new and improved room #800. Thank goodness for that! The old, strict environment in the library made it hard to focus on the source material. That, and Edith loved hanging around in there after class let out. She would be in various corners staring, reading, and pacing. Like it was her personal stomping grounds. A place controls, and nobody can stop her. Because how can you discipline someone who doesn’t exist?

I received my first assignment for History: write a paper with a minimum of 2-3 pages on the founding of Danvers, Massachusetts. Easy, right? She gave us a lot of information on the first day to use for reference. Well, she wants it found, paraphrased, and cited from sources in the local Historical Society and our library. Anything less will result in a reduced grade and potential detention. So, to do the assignment, I have to spend most of my time bouncing between the library and the Historical Society. Unfortunately, the Society has weird hours, and the phone number has been changed four times in six months, so good luck getting inside. Library it is, then. More creepy Edith stalking! Yay!

As I close my locker, a small metallic click tells me it’s secured. My phone chimes. It's from Mom: Hey, honey, how are you?

I reply, adjusting my backpack, walking toward the library: Good, settling in nicely. You? We haven’t seen each other much lately.

I could almost hear her sigh in frustration as she replies: I know. The job has been so time-consuming! Nobody listens to me, the manager constantly wants me working overtime, and I just found out I get paid less than the line workers! And that’s not the worst of it

Stopping in my tracks, I groan. Already anticipating her next response: He is having me work overtime from now until Halloween. That’s going to be my next day off, too. I guess everything shuts down for the festivities.

Seriously!? What’s the point in us moving here if we never see each other, she’s getting overworked, and her pay is less than what it was in Boston at the high school cafeteria? For less effort, she could’ve stayed there, and we could’ve rented a small apartment. Heck, I could’ve found a job if she really wanted somewhere nice! But no, no, we needed a “fresh start” and “distance” from Dad. I can’t believe this!

Fuming with anger, nerves bouncing with anxiety, I text her: Do whatever, I’ve got an assignment to do and people to hang out with, so see you whenever. Love you.

She shoots off a quick: Love you too, sorry. Then radio silence.

Trying to calm myself down, I do my breathing exercises. Inhale, hold for two seconds, exhale, repeat. This isn’t a situation that I can change. I should focus on what I can change: my school work, my friendships, my happiness. My nerves settle enough for me to continue my walk to the library, where I can redirect my energy into something constructive.

According to the sign, the library would be open until 6:00 PM. That's when all the offices close and when the night janitor comes to earn his bread. It’s my time limit to perform research on a town I know nothing about aside from its bizarre obsession with a certain girl. How fun. The room is exactly as I remember it: old, strict, and devoid of fun. Wooden shelves, filled with various books of all shapes and sizes, although slightly aged, are free of any dust or grime. Kept in a functional state for readers to peruse. To fulfill the purpose of education, nothing more, nothing less.

I sit in a booth across from a shelf marked “Historical Events”. The librarian, Anne, told me it had books on every important event, from all around the world, and perhaps, a few on our fair town. After looking through a few interesting titles, I grab one of each, the thickest being: Massachusetts, A History. A yawn escapes from my lips, a signal of my already growing boredom as I flip the pages.

“You’re looking in the wrong places…” A voice echoes.

I gasp, looking around. Aside from Anne standing several feet away, I’m alone. Nobody is next to me, or close enough, for me to hear them. So what was that?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her. Edith Thompson, sitting atop the information desk next to Anne, who was typing away at a computer, ignoring her. As if she were a feather drifting through a breeze. Dressed in all black, boring into me with her onyx eyes. Like a lion stalking a baby gazelle drinking at a watering hole.

Frozen in my seat, I squirm, trying to avert my gaze from her, but I can’t. It’s like I’m under a trance, hypnotism, or spell of some kind. A slave for whatever she had in store for me.

“I know you can’t talk to me anymore, it’s okay.” Edith’s lips aren’t moving. It's like she's not speaking with her mouth, but with her mind. Directly into my ears. “Even though you ignore me as they do,” Edith looks at Anne. “You’re different. Kinder, friendlier, better.”

Quivering in fear, I find it hard to speak. My throat feels dry and tight. Like, I haven’t had water for weeks. Is… she doing this to me? Am I going to die?

She nods at my first internal question, then shakes her head at the second.

In my mind, I try thinking the words I want to speak, to express to Edith. More than anything else, what I wanted to know was: “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

She kicks her feet back and forth like a child in a playful mood. The whisper of a smile on her lips. “Patience.” She jumps up, standing on the desk. “If you want the truth of this town, I can show you."

My head throbs, causing my vision to go black.

To be continued...

_______________

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Thank you for reading this eBook. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.