The Spirit of the Underground Railroad

Some deals never die...

I don't believe in curses. Never have.

I came to Mississippi to build highways, not chase ghost stories. The Crossroads was just another stretch of land in the way of progress-old dirt roads, a place tangled in superstition. People warned me not to disturb it. Said the land had power. That folks used to come here to make deals with something not quite human.

I laughed it off. Kept working.

Then the machines stopped working.

Then the sky turned black at noon.

Then we heard the laughter.

And when the dust settled, he was standing there. Tall. Shadowed. Red eyes burning through the dark.

The Crossroads Spirit had come. And he always collects.

Read now... but don't make any deals.