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#21 moiraesfate



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Posted 20 September 2010 - 10:12 AM

New Orleans - 1140 Royal St. - The LaLaurie Mansion

#22 Captain Kundalini

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Posted 30 March 2011 - 03:58 PM

Once upon a time in hard time Mississippi there was a young man named Robert Johnson who wanted to play the Blues.
He went to the bars and he went to the clubs and he played for his contemporaries, but they discouraged him,
saying he didn't have the talent or the soul. He tried to get better but finally they laughed at him.
Angry and hurt, he raised his fist and said, "I'm gonna go away for awhile. When I come back, I'll be playing the Blues
better than any of you."
So Robert went away and was gone for two years. No one saw or heard of him....until he came walking into the bar one night
with his guitar in hand. Some people rolled their eyes thinking stuff like "Well, here we go again."
Someone actually humored Robert and let him take the stage. He sat down at the mic, strummed a chord and hummed
then started playing the Blues.
The snickering that had started instantly died away. People stared with opened mouthed amazement.
This was Robert Johnson?
When he finished his set, he got applause and cheers. The word got out. He was signed to a Record Contract and he became famous
throughout Mississippi.
But as Johnson's fame grew, people wondered about his gift and whispered in dark corners.
No one can get THAT good at playin' the Blues in just 2 years. Sumthin' goin' on.
At the height of Robert Johnson's success while taking a break in a bar, he put the moves on a woman who just happened to be married.
The jealous husband saw what was going on, but he didn't let on about how angry he was.
He went up to Robert and greeted him as a friend would and bought him a bottle of Rye.
Not long after drinking the Rye, Robert fell violently ill.
He discovered that the Rye had been poisoned.
He managed to recover from the poison but the battle had left his body weak.
He finally caught pneumonia and died on August 16, 1938.
The whispers while he was alive turned to rumors and the rumors turned into Urban Legend.
"No one can get THAT good at playin' the Blues in just 2 years."
It was said that on a moonlit night, Robert Johnson went down to the crossroads halfway between the towns of Cleveland and Ruleville
on Highway 8 and Docker Road. As the Midnight Hour approached, he played some Blues on his guitar and then held it out.
A few minutes later, a dark figure approached him from the opposite direction and when he reached the place where Johnson was standing, he took the guitar, tuned it, gave it back to him and then gave him the following command: Each Sunday Night when the night is at its darkest,
you will come here and I will teach you. If you break this command, your soul is mine.
Robert Johnson must have broken the command by forgetting one night.
Some people say that if you are driving down that highway at a certain time of night on a Sunday Night, you just might see
his earthbound ghost...."tryin' to flag a ride".