Intersection of Hwy 82 and Hwy 49 E

Greenwood, Mississippi

June 1929 

Midnight

            Robert sat on his guitar case. He was strumming a tune that had been in his head for quite awhile. His fingers moved swiftly over the strings. The blues that came out of the guitar was almost magic, almost. Robert kept hitting a snag as he tried to close out the song. He had been toiling over it now for weeks. Robert knew he was good but he wanted to be great. He paused playing for a moment and took a sip from his bottle. Then he went back to playing. Behind him in the bushes he could hear something rustling. Robert was neither a big man nor a manly one. It was late and he was black sitting on the side of the road in Mississippi. He was afraid but the whiskey gave him a little more courage than he would have normally had.

He slowly reached into his front pocket and pulled out his blade. Robert loved many woman and many a woman with a man loved Robert. So it stood to reason Robert would need a blade, because he surely wasn’t going to quit loving the women.

If the sound happened to be white folks, well then maybe he could play them a song. Robert had learned that when around stupid country white folks, a black man had best be dumber or else. Robert was smart enough to play real field hand dumb.

Robert slowly stood up. He pretended to stretch. Then he quickly spun around and threw his empty whiskey bottle in the direction of the noise. He heard the clunk of the bottle connecting with its’ target.

“Owe!” a scream came from the bush.

“Who is there? I’ll cut you. I aint playin. Show yourself,” Robert commanded holding the open blade tightly in his hand.

A young black boy came out from behind the bushes. He could not have been any older than 10 maybe 12. Robert relaxed and smiled at the boy. The boy was holding his head. He looked mad.

“You hit me with that bottle.” The boy said.

“Why you hiding off over yonder,” Robert asked.

“I heard you playin the guitar. I want to learn. They call you R.L.” The boy said.

“Yeah so, I don’t be teachin so you needs to run along.” Robert said.

“Why you out here playin at night?” The boy asked.

“Boy, you need to mind your own business and run along now. Aint your mama going to be lookin for ya?” Robert asked.

“My ma, she out tonight,” The boy said.

“Your pa,” Robert asked.

“He left a little after I was born. My ma says he aint good for shit no how.” The young boy said.

Robert laughed. He liked the boy.

“I tell you what. I’ll show you something on this guitar then you run along.” Robert said.

The boy’s eyes lit up. Robert had him sit down on the red clay ground. Robert picked up his guitar and placed it across his lap.

“This is my first lesson. This here is a progression.” Robert said.  He moved through three cords. Robert played the cords again. “You can just play them over and over again. They work in a circle.” Robert said and played them again.

Then he handed the guitar to the boy. He positioned the boy’s hands and had him strum the strings. The boy’s face lit up again. He was so happy to be playing. Robert reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh pint of whiskey. He cracked it open and took a pull. Over the boy’s poor playing he could hear someone screaming from down the road. Robert stood up off his guitar case and attempted to focus on the large figure coming towards him. It was an older black woman. She looked every bit 300 lbs and pissed. As she got closer he could make out what she was screaming.

“Luther! Luther! You get away from that crossroads boy! It’s almost midnight! Luther! You put down that guitar! Get away from him Devil! Get away!” The old woman screamed. “Lord Jesus help me! Luther ! you get your black ass away from that Devil!”

Robert was amused at first and then he remembered why he was there. The whiskey had slowed his thought process. Robert quickly reached down to take the guitar from the boy. Luther would not let it go.

“Damn boy, you got to go on now.” Robert said.

“Come on just let me play some more.” Luther said.

“You can’t hear that crazy woman coming up here shouting after you. Now if I was you I’d go on.” Robert said still struggling for the guitar.

Luther peeked around Robert to see the wide shadow of his grandmother racing to come and get him. Fear filled him and he let go of the guitar.

A wind picked up around the two of them. Then there was silence. It was so quite that Luther could hear his heart beat as if it was a bass drum. He looked up at Robert who was holding the guitar in one hand and looking down at Luther. Robert was shaking his head. Luther felt cold all over. He was waiting for his grandmother to get there. He just knew that she was going to beat him something awful. He peered around Robert again to check and see how close she was. He could not see her.

“Hello Robert,” a voice said. “Your uncle said you’d be coming by.”

Luther looked up to see a tall, slender black man. This man was dressed in the finest clothes Luther had ever seen. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch. He opened the watch.

“Time is running short Robert. Would you like me to tune that guitar for you?” The tall man smiled. His teeth were black as granite and just as shinny.

Robert knew what he was doing. He had come to the crossroads for a reason. Robert was going to be the most influential musician of the century. He would have money and women. He would finely be able to finish that song that had been in his head for his whole life. To finish that song and stop the madness. The same song over and over without an ending, well it would have an ending now.

Luther watched the man with black teeth reach out and grab the guitar from Robert. As he pulled the guitar from Robert’s hands he sliced Robert’s palm with his finger nail. A drop of blood began to fall towards the ground, but before it hit the dirt the man with the black teeth caught it on a sheet of paper. He quickly rolled up the paper and placed it in his jacket pocket. He picked up the guitar and began to stroke the strings. They made no sound. Luther could smell the sugar cane burning, but there was no fire. He watched Robert watch the Black toothed man tune his guitar. After a few moments he handed the guitar back to Robert. He then turned towards Luther.

“So boy, what can I do for you?” He smiled. “Maybe some candy.”

“My grandmamma don’t let me have no candy.” Luther said.

“Yeah well she wouldn’t have to know. It would be our secret. Here stick out your hand.” He said.

Luther looked over at Robert. Robert looked away. Luther looked around to make sure his grandmamma was not around.  Then Luther smiled. He reached out towards the man.

“You can not have him.” A voice came from off the side of the road.

Luther turned quickly and saw a large black man appear from off the side of the road. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt with a clean pair of overalls over it. He had a Straw hat on his head and a set of eyes that practically pierced the night. The man walked over towards Luther. The slick man with the black teeth backed up.

“He is not yours.” The large black farmer said.

“You can not blame me for trying.” The slick man said.

“I should beat your ass just for trying.” The farmer said.

“The boy is at the crossroads,” The slick man said. “I did not make the rules.”

“The boy did not come of his own free will. You will not touch him.” The farmer said.

Robert looked at the massive figure of the farmer. He was afraid. Then he looked into the large man’s eyes. Robert felt warm and safe for a moment. He stepped towards the farmer.

“Oh no,” the slick man said. “You came here and we made the deal. I tuned your guitar for you as you wanted.”

The farmer could see the hurt and regret in Robert’s eyes. He could feel it and so could the slick man.

“Robert I’m going to make your dreams come true. I’m going to give it all to you now.” The slick man said.

The farmer stood and looked down at Robert. He knew that no matter what Robert had done that his boss would always love Robert. The farmer did not understand why people like Robert had to do the things they did. It was a mystery that not even he was privileged to. Robert reached out to the farmer.

“No! No! You belong to me now!” the slick man shouted.

The smell of sugar cane burning filled the air. The warm air became very cold. Luther quickly ran up and grabbed onto the farmers pants leg. The large farmer looked down at the boy on his leg. He smiled. Then he turned back towards the slick man.

“Your time here is done.” The farmer said.

“You don’t give me orders. I came here by request.” The slick man said.

“Now it is time for you to leave.” The farmer said.

The slick man pulled his gold watch from his pocket. He opened it. Then he looked up and smiled at the farmer. Tortured souls could be seen in the reflection of his teeth.

“You loose, Michael,” the slick man said. “With this acquisition it begins.”

“You still do not understand.” The farmer said.

The slick man was holding the pocket watch. He was spinning it around through his fingers. The watch was moving so fast that all Luther could see was a gold flash. Then Luther saw money, pretty girls, and all the candy he could eat.

The farm quickly lurched forward and grabbed the slick man by the throat. The slick man let out a yell. It was the loudest noise Luther had ever heard. The red clay rumbled under his feet. The cold air became very hot. Luther felt as if he was in an oven. He could barely open his eyes. What he saw made him wet himself.

The Farmer had the Slick Man by the throat and was holding him up off the ground. All around the Farmer were small creatures pulling at him and tearing away his flesh. The Farmer screamed in pain but held onto the Slick Man. The Farmer reached up with his other hand and punched his fist into the Slick Man’s chest. He pulled his hand out and dropped the gold pocket watch into Luther’s small hands. Then the Farmer let out a cry and pulled his hands apart as wide as he could.  The Slick Man stretched and became distorted. His eyes were fire red. He stared at Luther.

“No!!!!” he screamed and then exploded.

Luther closed his eyes. The air cooled down. Luther opened his eyes to find himself sitting at the crossroads. Robert was standing in the middle of the road. He looked just as surprised as Luther.

“Luther Williams, boy I’m not going to tell you again to come on!” Luther’s grandmother screamed.

Robert looked quickly around. He bent over and picked up his hat off the ground. He put it on his head and placed his guitar in its case. Robert looked at Luther for a moment. Then he saw that the old black woman was almost to them. Robert picked up his guitar case and walked off in the other direction. Luther watched him walk away. Luther reached down in his pocket and found the gold pocket watch. He looked at it for a moment and then put it away.

“Damn it Luther!” His grandmother said picking him up by the arm. “When I call you boy, you need to come on. I am too old to be chasin your black ass all over God’s creation. I will whip that little ass.”

She took Luther by the arm and began to take him back up the road to their house. Luther glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the blues man as he walked away. It would be the last time Luther would ever see him.