Vendetta

Into The Fray

                                                                                Pov:- Edward Harbour

The number of crimes are continuously increasing in Salem after the assassination of Mayor Gordon. Murders, thefts, and smuggling are some atrocities happening. Women are advised to restrain in their houses after nine. People consider these atrocities as curses from those innocents which were accused of being wizards and witches during the trials. It is very clear that this mess has deep roots, but the sheriff and the cops remain to stay in denial, and our new mayor acts like everything is as normal as summer. They claim everything is under control, but nothing is as it seems. Even the alleys, once cheerful, have adopted a gloominess and darkness.

I am Edward Harbour, a journalist and proud resident of Salem. I just returned last week from the UK after completing my degree in journalism. Although I received an offer from a famous news firm there, I decided to come back to reveal the truth to the people of Salem. I applied for a job at the local newspaper firm, Salem sentinel, and received my appointment letter two days ago. Today is my first day.

I miss my mother, who always supported me. She died when I was 17, during my first year of college. She was visiting my father in Washington D.C., where he worked as a junior partner at a law firm. Unfortunately on her way the car crashed and fell into a pond. Well, I guess this is not the right time to think about those things. The anxiety inside me is heightening every step towards my destination. The building is quite lavish for a local newspaper firm. The car stops, and I open the door and step out.

---

Standing before the impressive facade of the Salem sentinel, I take a deep breath and straighten my tie. As I walk through the grand entrance, I am greeted by the hustle and bustle of a busy newsroom. Reporters are typing furiously, phones are ringing, and the air is thick with the urgency of breaking news.

"Edward Harbour?" A voice calls out. I turn to see a middle-aged man with a friendly smile approaching. "Welcome to the Salem sentinel. I'm James, the editor-in-chief."

We shook hands, and he gave me a quick tour of the office. "We're glad to have you on board, Edward. There's no shortage of stories here in Salem, and with your background, you'll fit right in."

As I settle into my new desk, I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and determination. My journey to uncover the truth and bring light to the shadows of Salem begins today.

I opened the drawers and started to examine some papers spread on the table. It had not even been half an hour when an old man holding a cane, dressed in a black coat and pants with a bow tie and a black hat, approached me. A handlebar moustache adorned his face, resting between his lips and nose. He said, "Edward Harbour, right?"

I stood up from my chair and replied, "Yes, you are right, sir. How can I help you?"

He smirked at me and said, "Nice to meet you, boy. My name is Oliver Oesteker, but I'd like you to call me Fubao. Everyone here does. And of course, I am your boss, the only owner of Salem's best newspaper firm. Although it's true we don't have any other local ones. Bwahahahaha!" He laughed out loud. I was surprised, but seeing the other employees' reactions made me realize it must be normal here. This guy must be a very friendly and cheerful person.

"So, boy, I won't lie. I was really intrigued when I heard about your qualifications and that you still wanted to work here. I'm proud of you for your choice. You have a sense of justice, but I won't let your talent go to waste." He took a cigar from his pocket, peeled the front with his teeth, and lit it with a golden lighter encased in leather. "Want one?" he offered the burning cigar to me.