The Legend of The CrossRoads
The fog hung low on the delta in the stifling hot summer night as a young man lagged down a desolate, dusty road just out side the town of Clarksdale Mississippi. In one hand he clasped an old guitar, in the other a weathered brown suitcase. As the witching hour descended, the man came to a crossroads. Weary from his journey the man sat for a while at the dark fork in the road and consumed himself with whiskey and the only tune he knew. As he strummed his guitar a shadowy figure emerged from the haze.
As the man exchanged guitars with the stranger, his thirst for fame and fortune overwhelmed him. He began playing the guitar with a melodic improvisation that had never before been heard. The young man’s sweet music resonated over the southern bayous and clear on up to the big cities in the north faster than he could consume his bottles of whiskey.
