#TerrorThursdays!
Devil at the Cross-Roads.
What would you do for talent?
Introduction
What would you do for talent? Would you pay for it? Beg for it? Kill for it? Sell your soul for it even? Just for a moment’s task of fame and to have people screaming your name in the crowds. Renowned for its ways of coaxing people to tell others, the crossroads almost has a sentient method of claiming souls. What would you say if I were to tell you that there was a demon, the Devil himself, that was the real means behind all of these faustian deals? Unbelievable, right? Well, we’ll get into that today.
Welcome back to Terror Thursdays, boils and ghouls. I’m your ghoulish host with the most, and today we’ll be taking a dive into the legend of the Crossroads, the demon associated with it and the most notable Robert Johnson; who was said to have sold his soul to the Devil to play the blues, fame and his guitar.
Let’s get into it, shall we?
Disclaimer: this has nothing to do with the Netflix documentary, I saw it though and it was smashingly good. However, this is just about the legend, the myth and the folklore around it and the accounts surrounding Robert Johnson’s deal. Fully aware of the Blue’s being called: The Devil’s Music. Art credit to the Netflix’s documentary creator tho.
Legend of the Crossroads
In the dark of a moonless night, your lighter is the only source of light. But, you don’t need anything else save for your materials; you’ve already found the exact road you were instructed to seek out; nothing else matters. Two, wide roads that coalesce into the one road at your feet, the clearing just between it is just dirt, dead plants and abyss; as far as you can clearly tell. So, you drop your bag onto the floor and start digging. The hole is just big enough to fit a small animal, a picture, a small trinket or something of the like; that seems good enough; you think.
You’re already here, right? You might as well complete what you came here for. There’s no real usage in chickening out now, is there?
So, begin. What’re you waiting for?
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For centuries, and I mean centuries, the Crossroads have always been held at a significant position in society on either spectrums of good and evil. The Ancient Greeks used to believe places such as crossroads were sacred places for both Hecate, the multifaceted goddess of magic, crossroads and rituals, and Hermes, messenger of the Gods, trickster and protector of those like him; human heralds, travellers, thieves, merchants and orators; leaving offerings for the goddess on her days of the month, and offerings for the god on his day.
It isn’t until the middle ages and the common era, when it was used as sources of evil and ways to garner things one wishes for in darker ways. Believed to be the meeting place between the living in the dead, the in-between for the souls in limbo or a doorway, crossroads have always been seen as something to be feared, to never cross them or drive right into them; for the soul to cross the line may never return to land of the living.
Where in the UK, it was a tradition to bury criminals and suicides at the crossroads: “The many roads would confuse the dead.” And in religion, suicides have been generally known as a grave sin from which a soul cannot come back from.
Symbolically, these roads have always meant a locality where two realms touch and therefore represents liminality, a place literally “neither here nor there”, “betwixt and between”.
But what does this have to do with the blues icon?
Well, patience my favorite Audience of Ghosts!
In what is commonly known as the modern era, the usage of the cross roads to give reason to why someone came into something they had no business being in, became commonplace. In Faust first, summoning the demon, Mephistopheles, for intelligence and all. Tv show, Supernatural where Robert Johnson was a character in the very episode. And so on.
But, most of all, it was made notoriable in demonizing certain circles of Blues musicians.
The Man, the Myth, The Legend.
Like Doctor Faust, Paganini: the music composer and violin player and Robert Johnson: the famous blues musician, wanted something that couldn’t be gained with sheer practice and intelligence alone. Both having rumors surrounding them on bargaining their soul for the sake of instrumental prowess and making music that was both revered and feared.
But our focus, dear reader, is Robert Johnson.
Apart of the 27’s club, Johnson is known in the Blues genre as: the man who sold his soul. On account, he had merely taken the year off and came back with these talents seemingly out of nowhere; when he could not play prior.
As the legend goes, Johnson being a young man living in rural Mississippi had a tremendous desire to be a great Blues musician. On the moonless night, as he had been instructed, Johnson hiked his way to the crossroads with only the clothes on his back, his old watch and his favorite guitar. At the stroke of midnight, the only way he could tell of the hour was when a large, black man had walked up to him as if having appeared out of thin air. Striking conversation: asking him questions of his wants, his desire and the like of great interest to Johnson at the point in time.
Most assume that the black man was the Devil himself; having come on the whispers of the young man’s desire. He heard the wanting, eagerness and most of all the determination from his domain far below.
Showing this man his guitar, Johnson beamed with pride as he said: I want to be the best blues player in all of the Mississippi! Offering out his hand, the man asked to see his guitar. “Okay but you be careful now! That’s my best girl you’re handling.” “I’ll be gentle.” Said the tall man, starting to tune the guitar as he spoke. Playing a few chords of a song on the frets of the guitar. It wasn’t long before he handed back the guitar and in handing it back, gave Robert Johnson the talent to play it and more in the handling.
Unbeknownst that the deal had already been made and fame was on its way when there were shows to be played.
And life went on, until Johnson hit the rip age of 27 and the devil came back looking for what he was owed.
Some say that Johnson was found at the crossroads, laid out in the middle of the coalescing roads. Smelling of something odd, whether it was whiskey, or sulphur and brimstone.
Some say they heard a crow fly by, letting it be known something that way approached the crossroads. Then melancholic strum of a guitar in its place.
Hard to say what happened though, there are many stories about his death.
Maybe it was the devil collecting?
What do you think? Let me know.
And for curiosity sake; here’s the song about it.
See you next week for our double creature feature!
Happy Haunting!
