Chapter 1 - prologue

"Tim! Swing your scrawny ass into my office!"
The crackling voice of Mr. Simmons, the chief editor of the third-class gutter paper he was working for, jerked Timmy out of his thoughts. Not that he objected, were his thoughts from the self-pitying side. Working for a newspaper usually filling its pages with the worst mixture of gossip, crime and downright absurd paranormal stories, was truly not what he had dreamed of during his journalism studies! But fresh from college, with no further experience and a large credit to settle he was glad to have this job. It wasn't really well paid and except financing his single room flat and the daily meals there was not much money left for living. Right now he had brooded over the simple fact, that with his current salary and his expenses he would need about forty six years to pay off his depts. And this only, if he wouldn't go out more than one time a month. It was quite obvious, that he had to search for another job. A job at a large newspaper, where he at least would have a chance for the big story! But these publishers usually took no no-name journalists fresh from the school. So his only hope was that he would accidently stumble over a story big enough to make his name known. Not that there was a big chance of this by getting puny articles over small town crime, or even worse, one of the complete fairytales, the stories of ghost views at the local graveyard, the next-door witch or the returned alien abductee. No, with such crap he would never get a better reputation, a reputation helping him to a better job. He was raised atheistic, and figures like witches, warlocks, ghost or vampires had only place in the multitude of fantasy books and films flooding the entertainment market. To fabricate stories with these topics was a true pain in the ass, especially for a guy like him, with both his feet at the solid concrete of reality! Now, hearing the excitement in Simmons voices, he guessed it would be again one of his boss's favorite stories, usually involving mystery and/or black magic. 'So far the day was not too bad!' crossed his mind as he hurried to the chief editor's office.
His boss didn't even looked at him, seating behind his desk he checked through several pages containing new articles. Without even raising his head Simmons tossed Timmy a sheet of paper. "This is an important inquiry! I know you hate this type of story, but you're the only one of my journalists currently available. So, go and come back with a decently written two page article. An article, do you understand me, without any of your typical cynical remarks! You're good in writing, but if you don't start to cooperate we have to part! So, just see this as your last chance to keep your job! I see you in a few days!" With these words he motioned Timmy out of the office.
While walking back to his desk Timmy read the headwords on his boss's memo:
- witch craft in Salem
- three sisters
- disappeared people every 7 years ....
Reading the notes a few desperate thoughts crossed his mind: 'Not again the old witches of Salem tale! There are twenty one Salem in the United States, and each and every one of them has his history of witch craft and black magic!' By studying the zip code he found out that in his case the 'local' Salem was the magic ridden town. 'Luckily it's only 120 miles away, so I can drive there today. Then I make an 'investigation' today evening in the local bar, usually the best place for the kind of 'information' I need for my 'story'. With writing a decent little fairytale tomorrow I should be able to finish that bullshit by tomorrow evening!'
After packing a few belongings Timmy drove down to Salem. It was a boring cruise, with nothing to see but fields, farms and more fields. The whole time he was composing an opening for his story in his mind, but nothing useful would come up. So he arrived at Salem truly frustrated and in a very bad mood. After checking in into the 'Salem Lodge', the only suitable hotel in the whole town, he refreshed himself and went out for dinner. He decided to check out the local bar and pup scene to find a good place for his 'inquiries'. As he had expected before, the whole scene turned out to consist of a few of the typical fast food restaurants and 'McGettigans Bar & Pup'. That didn't leave much of a choice and so he walked down the main road to that establishment. It was eight o'clock and the bar was filled with the usual evening customers, a couple of farmers and the town's business people having their dinner. He ordered a farmers plate for himself, sat down and scanned the crowd for possible 'witnesses'. After he had finished his meal he had decided for a table with three visibly drunken farmers to start his questioning.
The older men at the table were the right decision. The quantity of beer and bourbon they'd consumed before Timmy had joined at their table and the two rounds he was freely giving had made them really talkative. So, within one hour he learned a big amount of gossip, nearly anything the people of Salem badmouthed about. Who with whom? Which of the local daughters were the most permissive ones? Who were the widows lately seen with inappropriate young partners? And so on.... Strangely there was not a single word about witches, missing people or unnatural events. So Timmy tried to actuate the talk into that direction. But as soon as he opened up with this special topic, the three old men fell silent, exchanged gazes with each other and suddenly decided that it was late enough to go home! Slightly puzzled Timmy watched them pay their bills and leave the bar. The only waitress, a merely attractive woman in her late forties, gravely looked at him and explained: "Young man, you should be aware of the fact that there are things people here don't talk about! And to this special topic I only can advise you not follow up with. That people don't talk about doesn't mean that those things are not real! So, you'd better finish your drink, go back to the Lodge and tomorrow you go back to where you've come from!" Angrily muttering she turned and left a now complete bewildered Timmy sitting on his table. He was shaking his head about this lot of superstitious people, than started to look around again. During his chit chat with the oldies the patrons had changed. Now the crowd mostly consisted of the town's youth, about twenty people between twenty one (hopefully) and the middle thirties were occupying the bar, the dart boards and the billiard table. Timmy ordered another beer and continued to study the people. After a few minutes of evaluating the crowd he got up and began to engage different people into a talk. But the results here turned out to be even more unpleasant then before. The reactions ranged from simple turning away to threats of severe corporal punishment! After a few abortive attempts Timmy finally gave up, sat down at the bar and ordered double bourbon.
He was at his second glass of 'Help me to forget all that shit' when she appeared. A beautiful woman, almost as tall as he with his six foot. Long blond hair framed an attractive face with large green eyes, high cheekbones and sensual curved lips. Her truly perfect hourglass shaped body was covered in an ankle length lace up front dress. A very nice cleavage was peeking through the laces, and her hip wiggling was an eye-catcher. So Timmy's gaze followed her through the room, from the entrance to the bar. Strangely nobody else seemed notice her, but it appeared to Timmy that the voices in the bar quieted down once she walked through the room. She placed herself onto a barstool, crossed her legs and looked at the crowd. Somehow her facial expression showed disdain and pity at the same time whilst she was examining the patrons. Then, with a contemptuous smile she turned to the bartender and ordered a White Russian. Timmy inconspicuously watched her for about half an hour. She looked like she did not care about anything happening around her. When Timmy finally got up and went to her and sat down at the neighboring barstool she gave him a thin smile and said: "I was asking me how long you would need to eye me until you would take courage to come and talk to me!" She pointed at the barstool aside her and said: "Sit down stranger!" Timmy followed her order, took place and introduced himself. In response she told him her name was Mae. Then she looked him into his eyes. "Now that we're not total strangers any more, what you're doing here in this so charming and boring town?" Timmy shortly considered his answer, thinking about all the strange reactions he got from the other townsfolk, but then he told her the whole story. Snidely she waved her arm at the other patrons and with a contemptible sound in her voice she asked: "And you expected an answer from them? They're all a silly superstitious lot, they would never tell a stranger like you anything! But you know what? Just buy me a few more drinks, and after those I'll tell you what I know!" He agreed and ordered two more White Russians, one for himself.
The last two hours until the bar closed they spent their time with a pleasant conversation and drinking a couple of cocktails. When the bartender signaled to close, Mae looked at him and with a shy smile she asked: "So, what do we do now, Timmy?" Slightly primed he got up, offered her his hand and slurred: "I've held my side of our bargain! Now it's time for you to fulfill your promise! If it's not to offensive, I would offer my room, because it's only a few minutes of walk away!" She took his hand, got up and pulled him wordless out of the bar. There she told him they would go to her place, because as far as she knew, there would be no visitors permitted in that prude accommodation he is staying in! With surprising firm grip she continued to pull Timmy down the road until they reached a large pickup. She shoved the tipsy and puzzled Tim onto the co-driver's seat and then they left the town.