Maxwell Scott is Not Here/ Friday Nights in Hellensburg | Teen Ink

Maxwell Scott is Not Here/ Friday Nights in Hellensburg

December 16, 2018
By Iamicon GOLD, Clyde, North Carolina
Iamicon GOLD, Clyde, North Carolina
16 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
I have loved you with an everlasting love, I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
Jeremiah 31 : 3

An author is someone who has taught their mind to disobey.
Oscar Wilde
Beware: I am fearless, and therefore powerful.
Frankenstein,Mary Shelley


   Nobody talked about the monster of Hellensburg. There was nobody in Hellensburg that felt the need to discuss the four-eyed creature that lived out in the woods behind Bob Ginger's Radio and Gadgets Deluxe store. They knew it was there and it knew they were there. It was a mutual agreement that the townspeople used the woods once every Friday night and let the monster be the rest of the week. It avoided schedule conflicts and unnecessary scuffles.
   Nancy Wrigley was a lifelong resident of Hellensburg, her mother and father had always lived in Hellensburg, and their parents, so on and so forth. She worked at Bob Ginger's Radio and Gadgets Deluxe store, she never remembered actually applying for the job but she still worked there when she wasn't in class at Hellensburg High School. The job sucked along with her boss who was described by most with words inappropriate for public consumption.
   She worked there in the evenings when the strange men from the shipping factory came down to sit outside, smoke, and watch the moths fight the green neon lights. Nobody ever needed radios or gadgets, but they did good business and Nancy's paycheck arrived every Saturday. She wore a name tag on the upper-right corner of her red and green blouse, even though everyone in Hellensburg knew her. For some reason, her boss forced her into an apron, even though a sales clerk for a radio and gadget store does not need an apron. It wasn't the strangest thing her boss did, so Nancy learned not to question it.
   It was on a generally hot Friday when the stranger appeared in town. Nobody really wanted to show up in Hellensburg, somehow people came, not really knowing why or how. The stranger's name was Maxwell Scott, a sharply dressed man from the North who liked to slick his hair back until the creases in his forehead disappeared. He was- what he liked to call 'a smooth sun-of-a-gun with a silver tongue'; the jury was still out on if these claims were true. He had come into Hellensburg on purpose, this Maxwell Scott, he wanted to rid the town of her monster.
   After asking around for someplace to rest and eat and receiving a few cryptic answers of "over yonder a ways", Maxwell Scott's car came to rest in the almost empty parking lot of Bob Ginger's Radio and Gadgets Deluxe store.
   Nancy watched him with fuzzy suspicion and curiosity, her white apron stained by rust and her habit of rubbing her sweaty hands against the fabric. He wandered around a bit, taking in the general atmosphere of distrust and suspicion. He eventually straightened the leather satchel on his shoulder and accidentally scuffed his black shoes on the bowed floor. He simply frowned, bending over to rub the scuff with his thumb. The scuff did not disappear. He meandered around before finding Nancy at her post behind a contraption that resembled a cash register. Maxwell Scott thought that she smelled like roses and dirt, he liked the dirt part, but the roses were another issue. Roses had thorns and thorns cut. Nancy thought he looked pretentious.
   "The name's Maxwell Scott," he said quickly, handing her a black and white card. His voice was quick, not auctioneer quick, but still quick. "I've come from up North."
   Nancy blinked a few times, dropping his card.
   "Yeah," he continued, leaning against her counter. "I'm sure you've heard of me on the TV. I'm an important man."
   Nancy had never seen him on TV, but Nancy did not own a TV. Nobody in Hellensburg- minus Bob Ginger- owned a TV. She decided it was in her best interest to nod.
   "Good, very good," Maxwell Scott said with an increasingly large smile. Nancy imagined the lips continuing to curl up until half his face was consumed with pearly-white Chiclet teeth. The thought was slightly frightening. "You see, I'm here to save you."
   "I have radio parts," Nancy said. "We sell radio parts and gadgets. We also have a toaster. If you are not interested in buying these, you have come to the wrong store. Goodbye."
   "I heard about this town's problem," he continued, running his fat hands through his slicked hair. "You have a monster."
   "We don't talk about the monster," Nancy whispered.
   "Talk about him all you want," Maxwell Scott boasted, his chest puffed out. "I am going to slay your beast and bring its body to the Museum of Natural History for the world to see."
   Nancy just nodded, "go away."
   He studied her blouse, finding her nametag buried under a mountain of ruddy hair. "Ah, Nancy. Hello Nancy Wrigley, do you go to high school nearby?"
   "Yes," she said back with a certain finality about it. She wanted him gone. Nothing good ever came out of a man with business cards.
   "Good, then you can help me, Nancy. How about you meet me behind the store tonight? We'll find that wretched monster- together." His bright eyes widened, the toothy smile still taking up half his face. His eyebrows raised a little, scuttling to his hairline.
   "Tonight is Friday night," Nancy muttered, ignoring his eyebrows that somehow seemed to creep farther up his face.
   "What's that have to do with anything?" Maxwell Scott reached for her hand but Nancy- having been trained by Bob Ginger in the art of protecting herself and the cash register- deflected the attempt and pinned his hand to the counter. She pressed her nail against his wrist until the little crescent-shaped mark drew a thin trail of scarlet.
   "Please leave."
   Maxwell Scott removed his hand from the counter and nodded, tossing a multitude of business cards towards her. "You have my card, contact me if you're interested."
   Nancy was by no means interested. "Leave scum," she hissed, throwing a pen at his head. She barely missed and Maxwell Scott decided to jog to his car.
   "You cannot call customers scum," her boss said, appearing at her side from the door leading into the backroom. Her boss was not Bob Ginger of the store's namesake but his daughter Josephine. She was a wide woman, with hips that could block a doorway and hair the color of the river after a heavy rain. "Only I am allowed to call customers scum." And with that, her boss turned back into the backroom, disappearing inside.
   Nancy did not show it, but she was angry. She ran her hands over her apron until the paper cut on her index finger began to bleed. "That man," she whispered in anger, "he can't capture our monster."
   After work, she locked the store and watched a few reflective silver moths buzz around the neon sign. She looked back into the now dark store and tried to remember if her boss had emerged from the backroom. She couldn't remember so she began to walk, clipping and unclipping her nametag.
   She paused to look at the moon, it was a waning crescent tonight and it cast a sliver of light upon the woods behind Bob Ginger's Radio and Gadgets Deluxe store. For a moment a shadowy figure stared at her, before turning to walk back into the woods. Nancy was unafraid of the monster, it had been years since he had caused any damage and it was a Friday night. Nothing bad happened to the townspeople of Hellensburg on Friday nights.
   She began to walk as a man stopped her. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the woods. Nancy kicked and fought, still unafraid but angry. She dared not to scream. He carried her deeper into the forest to where the light did not reach. He had a small flashlight that cast an eerie amber glow on Nancy's rather pale skin. Nancy vaguely remembered something like this happening last year and perhaps the year before that. Either way, the man called Maxwell Scott was happy to see her in the middle of the woods. Nancy was not thrilled.
   Maxwell Scott took her hand, his bright eyes gleamed with hope. She could smell the excitement on him, thick as sweat. "Are you a virgin?" He said in his not-quite-auctioneer speed voice.
   Nancy thought about this for a moment before furrowing her eyebrows. "I suppose so." The light shined into her eyes and she could hear the fleeing footfalls of the monster- Maxwell Scott did not hear the fleeing monster. Nancy was not afraid.
   "Good," Maxwell Scott responded. "Then I shall sacrifice you as bait for the monster." He shimmied around with his hand in his pocket, finally producing a pocketknife. Nancy applauded him."The monsters always want a virgin sacrifice. Why would this one be any different?"
   "Oh boy," Nancy said with a nervous laugh. She clasped her hands together in front of her, smiling all the while. The front of her white apron was beginning to look more grimy than usual from the atmosphere of the forest. "This is unexpected," she whispered excitedly, bouncing on her toes. She, however, expected him to say this.
   "I'm terribly, dreadfully sorry about this, Nancy Wrigley," he said jerking his head towards the noise of approaching footfalls. "There is more than one beast? Good, I will capture them and take them to the Museum of Natural History. I will become rich and famous and you, my dear, will become part of history."
   Maxwell Scott produced a length of rope from his satchel. "I'm going to tie you to a tree now."
   Nancy nodded as the footsteps began to approach, closer and closer. "I will help you." She bound her own wrists together tightly, watching Maxwell Scott begin to panic. The footsteps around her were thick, breaking branches and stomping through the brush. His flashlight's beam spun wildly as he turned in circles to face the monsters. No, not monsters, they were-
   Townspeople...?
   They surrounded Maxwell Scott, closing in on him. Nancy joined their ranks, wrists still bound. There was no more room for Maxwell Scott to turn in wild circles- no room for him to lash out. No room for him to scream.

   The Townspeople of Helensburgh loved tourism.


The author's comments:

Just a gothic piece about an unusual town with an appetite for tourism. And a monster of course.


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