He knelt by the crossroad on the highway, with his straw hat in his left hand and his guitar on the ground. Old man Jerry sang his lullaby
Good friend, here I am lookin’ for you
I got a lil something and I hope you do too
A whisky in my breath ain’t stop me from crying
A devil was an angel and I know you ain’t lying.
Old man Jerry put on his hat and picked up his guitar and began to play the blues. This was a sad tune. He felt it in his soul, as he closed his eyes an overwhelming sadness possessed him and he began to wail
I bleed my soul out on this crossroad…
And a cool voice said, “Old Man Jerry, we meet again. ”
Old man Jerry opened his eyes in shock, even though he knew who it was, he still felt fear.
“You’ve changed from the last time I saw you. You did summon me,” said the man.
“Y-yes I sure did sir, and you haven’t changed one bit after all these years” he stuttered.
The man laughed, a burst of deep loud heartly laughter “you have no soul to sell Old Man Jerry, and you have nothing to offer. Are you forgetting that 20 years ago a young Jerry once came to the cross road with this dull voice and his guitar and sang to me the blues and made a deal ,giving me his soul for fame and fortune. ”
“Please devil-man, I hear the hell hounds knocking on my door and I ain’t ready to go yet, my daughter just had a baby and I need more time, ” he pleaded, knowing his fate.
The man flashed a sinister smiled as his eyes darkened, and said in a deep voice, “there ain’t no way to stop them hell hounds. Pity, man got one soul and you already sold yours…”
©️ Ashleigh Wenyika
This story was inspired by the myth surrounding Robert Johnson, a legendary bluesman who apparently sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical talent.