Dealing With the Devil


The man who sells his soul to the devil knows you'll find him at the crossroads at midnight. Knowing the time and place, you can lower yourself into the story like riding a bucket down a well. The only things that reflect light are your eyes and your teeth, because your skin is absorbing even the faint trances of light swimming around the scene like Van Gough stars. "Qui veut faire l'ange, fait la bete." (Pascal) The man has come here because the only way to find salvation is to deal in the devil and play out the hand.

You might not want to get too immediate a role in the story as when you look through the eyes of the character and realize he is looking through your eyes, so that you can share a point of view. You might want to just watch, from the shadows, separate yourself from the immediacy of the ground under your feet, and the knot of fear in your stomach knowing that all you have is an expectation of something there, somebody there, maybe.

Maybe not.

How many men have gone to the crossroads with a soul for sale, but there was nobody interested? They're fucked. Once the soul knows you're going to pimp her she'll never be a good girl again, so you get all the negatives without any actual reward. "I told you he wouldn't show up. I'm no good. Not even the devil wants me."

"Nonsense. These things are just unpredictable. Think of all the people with souls for sale and only one devil, and you realize hitting the right crossroads at the nadir is like playing the lottery."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do. Don't be silly."

"Then why do you want to sell me to a beast? I hear he has a tail. Is he Jewish?"

"It depends on who you ask, and I'm not selling you. Who would I sell you to? It's midnight at the crossroads again and no devil. No devil, no deal. You remain inviolate."

The man's arms and legs are long, and his hands are almost unnaturally large. He is as gangly as a red hound and his lips move slightly as he keeps up the running dialogue in his head to assuage his nervousness at being in the darkness alone. He's made no actual decision to sell his soul in return for special skills, but he is lazy, and in the tradition of lazy people, he wants to shortcut all that hard work and just have magical powers. There is a sound. He waits, holding his breath, listening intently.

The development of magical powers is a tricky business. Where do they come from? Ray Johnson figured he'd just try everything he could think of, from the studying of magic to the exploration of stories and situations where other people got magical powers. One of those stories was that the devil waits at the crossroads, and if you go there at midnight, you might work a trade, like Robert Johnson did.

He doesn't really expect anybody to be there, so he jumps when the other man's voice comes out of the darkness, from the other arm of the cross, "Hello? Is that you?"

Ray thinks it an odd question for the devil to ask him, as he ought to know who he is meeting, but he says, "Yes it is."

"You the devil?" the voice asks.

Ray doesn't say anything for a few seconds, because he instantly grasps that he isn't the only man who has come to the crossroads in the midnight hour to cut a deal with the devil, but he is, so far, the only one who has that knowledge. All he has to do is say yes, and he's got all the power of the devil. He feels the temptation hit him like junk sickness. Then a surge of energy comes up through his shoes into his body, infusing him with an unnatural strength.

"Who you think I am? What you come out here for if you ain't looking for me? You wasting my time?" (Ray affects what he thinks might be a devil persona.)

The other man's voice is shaking, but he is moving closer to the center of the cross. "I can't see you, is all I mean, but I don't need no trouble with you, no sir. I was asking out of politeness, just in case you prefer Satan, or Ba'al, or Beelzebub ... "

"You best be speaking polite to me, no matter what you call me, son, because there is more souls for sale than knockoff Rolexes, so you best not be wasting my time. What you got and what you want for it?" Ray lights a cigarette, and in the flame his features reflect just enough of the light from the antique Zippo to give the impression of menace, as his face becomes a mask of light and shadow for a moment. Being the devil has infused him with confidence and a new sense of his own power.

"By god I be the devil," he says. "What you be thinking asking if I want to be boiled beetles or some shit like that?"

"I'm from Utah."

"That explains it all right. What you got to trade, Joe?"

"My name's not Joe."

"Is now."

"What?"

"Devil says you Joe, you Joe. What you got to trade?"

"My soul is what I thought you wanted, but I don't exactly know what it is, or how you'd go about extracting it from me."

"You don't know shit, do you Joe?"

"No sir. I just know I want to play the blues like Robert Johnson."

"You got any cash on you, Joe?"

"I reckon I got five or six dollars ...."

"This is your lucky night."

Posted: Sun - August 6, 2006 at 12:43 AM