IGKTW Round One: The Self-Made Man (802 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: IGKTW
Rating: 1.55 on 44 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Coyote (View user info) at 2006-04-21 23:30:42 EDT
Every year on the anniversary of his wife's death Mulebone Spellman walked the twenty-six miles from Vinegar Bend turnout to the county offices in Rosedale to pay property tax on the meager tract of land that just barely, by virtue of being marginally able to support one old man and a knock-kneed cow, could be called a farm.
The walk was a dull and dusty one, and had little to recommend it—these days the few who make the trip out to Vinegar Bend usually elect to do it in an air-conditioned four-wheel drive pickup, and even in 1927 the particular stretch of road Mulebone traversed was known as a lonely and an unpleasant one. But on this date in particular Mulebone preferred the fatigue and the hazards of the road to the melancholy sigh of the wind stirring up the ashes in the fireplace and the restless insistent rattle-tap of tree branches on the tin roof of the shack he and his wife had shared for so long.
He didn't like to leave his property unattended overnight, but some appointments need keeping, and after all not many blacks along this part of the river could boast, as Mulebone did, of owning their own land.
He left at the same time as a pallid suggestion of the Sun hunched its shoulders up over the scrub pines and steeled itself for the hopeless task of trying one more time to burn through the relentless cloud cover to heat the air above Vinegar Bend into its usual fetid, broiling stew. He'd reach town by nightfall with enough money for a jug of corn liquor in his left pocket and the taxman's share in his right. Based on seven years' experience, he expected that the next morning he'd be awakened before sunrise by the shrill yapping of his cousin's wife rousting him up from off her kitchen floor, and he'd shrug his way through the spitting rain to the tax collector's office before starting out on the long trek home.
At the intersection with the Levee Road a figure stood, cloaked against the steadily worsening rain. Although Mulebone knew every sharecropper and trapper and river rat for twenty miles either way along the river, he didn't recognize the figure, although something about him seemed familiar.
Mulebone avoided eye contact with the stranger, as a matter of course, but when he stepped into the crossroads and had almost passed the man by, something made him lift his head and look him in the eye.
He was unnerved to find the stranger staring unblinking at him, the way a housecat curled up in a sunny patch watches a fat beetle crawling across a blade of grass. The force of the man's bemused scrutiny was such that Mulebone faltered in his pace and stopped in the middle of the rutted intersection. He looked both ways along the Levee Road but saw no other sign of human life.
"Somethin' I can do for you, Sir? Look like you're waitin' for somethin', but you're in fo' a powerful long wait at this here place. Ain't nothin' here worth waitin' for unless you got a likin' for mosquitos."
The man tilted his head to the side in a curious manner, and the merest slip of a smile flickered and was gone.
"Waiting... indeed I am awaiting something. A momentous event. Earth-shattering, you might well say. Events which could destroy, or recreate, everything you can see here."
Mulebone snorted in amusement. "I heard lots o' fire en brimstone talk in my day, but I ain't never heard Judgment Day was set to happen right here in Vinegar Bend." He tipped his hat to the stranger and started to move away. "Hope you don't gotta wait too long for whatever it is, but if'n you do I 'spect I'll be seein' you again when I pass back this way. Til then I'll be takin' my leave, Sir. Like to stay en chat, but Rosedale ain't gettin' no closer and I can't afford to burn no more daylight."
"Not just yet, my good fellow!" Mulebone was startled to find the nattily-attired stranger falling into step beside him on the road, as casual and sure of his place as an old travelling companion. "Might I accompany you for a part of your journey? I have business to discuss while I await the, ah, imminent happenings."
"Reckon it's a free country, can't stop you walkin'," Mulebone muttered. "Don't figger I'm exactly in a talkin' mood though, if you catch my drift."
"Perfectly, my friend, perfectly. And I'll tell you what I'll do for you, as a special favor in respect of the, ah, somber occasion you mark today, I'll do the talking, and you needn't do aught but listen. Just interrupt me when the mood comes over you." Spellman shot the stranger a sidelong glance and caught a flash of teeth between the high collar turned up against the rain and the low-slung brim of his fedora.
Mulebone just grunted, shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, and picked up his pace a little bit. The stranger kept up, without apparent effort or concern.
"There's going to be a flood, Spellman. In a matter of days I should think, two weeks at the most. It's going to rewrite the whole landscape, like a government man crumpling up the map on his desk and tossing it into the trash."
Mulebone thrust his jaw out truculently. "Don't you be threatenin' me, Sir! I done come to that crossroads an honest man, and it ain't no midnight nor Friday the 13th neither, so if you be the Devil here after stealin' a soul, you best look to be doin' your stealin' down in Rosedale. And if you AIN'T the Devil, you best be explainin' how you knows my name, and get ready for an ass-whippin."
"Easy now, Mulebone, there's no call for violence. I never do expect to have it easy with you country folk, with all your wives' tales and songs. City folk are another matter entirely, no challenge at all there."
The Devil whistled tunelessly for a moment, a five-note call that started nowhere and ended in a flurry of fat raindrops dripping from the brim of his hat. They walked on, Mulebone in his mile-eating trudge, his companion with a jaunty stride. It was the Devil who broke the silence.
"When you say you're not one for talking, boy, I can see you're serious. Let me spell it out for you, then. Lots of chaos coming down the pike. Lots of opportunity, lots of evil. It'll be an evil time. Good news for me, bad news for you and your, ah, countrymen. Can't stop the waters once they overtop the levees, you know. But I take a special interest where people have asked for my help before, so I'd like to see if you care to renew an old deal."
Mulebone squinted at the silhouette of a crow in a distant treetop and picked his teeth with his fingernail before replying.
"Don't believe I ever have had a deal with you, not with any other demon, spirit, or spawn of hell neither. I got nothing from you, en I got nothin' you want. Reckon I'll take my chances with the levees."
"Oh, my deal's not with you, my deal was with your late wife. She was most concerned that her parents look favorably on her marriage to you."
"So you done muddied up their minds en got her daddy to 'cept me en help us set up house?"
"No, no nononono, nothing nearly so complicated as that. You mortals are far too emotional and set in your ways to influence so easily. No, it's far easier to affect material goods, possessions, transactions... "
"So Ol' Colonel Mayfair sellin' off all those fields... that was you?"
The Devil took a shallow bow, without breaking stride. "My influence, and his rather improbably large gambling debts. Why else would he allow a no-account nigger to buy even the smallest, swampiest parcel? But your dear, dear Elsie, oh my but she was in love with you. She would have done just about anything to have her father bless your union." The humorless flash of teeth again. "And matter of fact, she DID do anything..."
Mulebone felt his face aching from the tension in his jaw. "She loved that farm. We was somethin', her and me. My brother down in Jackson knows a farrier could have got me good steady work there, but I can't leave now, not after what we had in Vinegar Bend. She loved that little piece of land..." He unconsciously jingled the taxman's earmark in his pocket, and swallowed hard. "What'd you take from her? Her immortal soul?"
The Devil's laughter was rich and buttery. "Nothing near so grandiose as that. Just a promise for a favor in return. A favor I had cause to call in about seven years afterward. I'm sure you remember the occasion."
"Seven years..." Mulebone's blood was running icy in his veins and his knees felt weak, but his pace toward the tax office never faltered.
"You remember the year, I see. You really shouldn't have taken it out on her, she never wanted to cuckold you, not with that scrawny cracker. That was the price she paid for your seven years of domestic bliss. Some white trash Klansman comes to me out of his mind on hooch and says he'd sell his soul for the chance to assfuck a pretty nigger woman, I know exactly the favor to call in. That's what this job is all about, you know. It's just horsetrading, a favor here, a favor there. And so the human race goes."
Mulebone walked in silence, a zombie shuffle that carried him blindly towards a destination whose significance had shifted in an instant from simple atonement to something far darker and more bitter. The same sick vertigo that overcame him that long ago night staggered him in his tracks, and his fists felt the memory of the blows on her flesh—not exactly innocent, he now knew, but certainly martyred.
"Why...?" was all he managed, numb.
"...am I back now?" the Devil finished airily, picking an imaginary speck of dirt from his fingernails and brushing them on his lapel. "You've shown me much these years, Mulebone. You've got pride, you've got guts. You worked yourself to the bone for that farm—oh, you'd never have gotten it without my help, but you worked hard nonetheless, and you were sure enough of yourself to put the woman who gave you everything she had six feet under. I know what you have invested in that little piece of property of yours, and I thought you might want the chance to keep hold of it, and maybe add a little bit, come - pardon the expression - hell or high water."
Mulebone didn't trust his voice not to betray him, so he held his silence. The Devil produced a pocketwatch and wound it with elaborate care before glancing at the face and tucking it back into his suit.
"There's another woman in your future—one who can give you a son. And there's revenge in that future too, and maybe even peaceful sleep at night. That's more up to you than me though, guilt is a tough emotion for me to erase. Save everything you've fought and hurt and, yes, killed for. Or, see it erased from history, as if you'd never lived. Even her headstone washed down to New Orleans and buried in the shit and mud."
They stopped, then, and the Devil stuck out his hand to be shaken. "What do you say, Spellman... shake on it. Pay your taxes, and bring the man from the Army Corps of Engineers back up to Vinegar Bend to have a look at the levees there. Things can go well for you."
Mulebone didn't remember felling the Devil with a single punch, or kicking him savagely in the ribs as he squirmed in the mud of the road, blood and dirt and puke staining his dark suit, but when he turned back towards Vinegar Bend he was travelling alone and his fist throbbed with pain. That night he fell asleep at his wife's graveside, and in his dreams he stood tall and defiant against the crest of the river, one upthrust finger turned to the roaring torrent and the shattered remnants of a golden pocketwatch ground into the muck beneath his boot.
User Reviews
Submitted by Alter (user info) at 2007-09-26 20:30:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No, Comment.
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2006-04-28 11:14:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
coyote, one day you might be as good as me. here's a tip on how to get started: start drinking a lot more, have sex with prostitutes, contract a strain of v.d. the doctor's can't identify, and then die.
i'm still working on that last one, but i suspect it's somewhere in my imminent future and it's probably going to be against my will anyways so who gives a shit.
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-04-28 11:00:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Well, well, look who crawled out from under his rock.
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Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-04-27 21:57:55 (#)
Ranking: -2
could this BE any more stereotypical and one dimensional?
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The irony of this comment coming from you, of all people, almost makes the -2 worth it.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-04-27 22:10:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-04-27 21:57:55 (#)
Ranking: -2
could this BE any more stereotypical and one dimensional?
____________________________________________________
Dear Appolonius buttfuckius. You are an ass.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-04-27 21:57:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
could this BE any more stereotypical and one dimensional?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-27 21:33:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-04-27 17:25:57 (#)
Ranking: 2
This was pretty damn good.
Was there a lot of Napa winemaking in the 30s?
The thing I like about your stories, Jack, is they always have structure and flow to them. I don't know if you rough things out ahead of time, or have a very clear goal in mind from the beginning, but there's always a discipline to the narrative that makes for a very satisfying read.
--
Thanks, as as to pre-plotting, so to speak, it's a 50/50 split. Had a rough idea here, and it turned out okay. WIth something likr Four Corners Hole series I have a more concrete idea of the resolution.
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-04-27 17:42:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-04-25 16:38:43 (#)
I have to say, though, that it doesn't fit the theme. "The devil" is its own theme.
Therefore, 1.5, see above. After the ratings end, I'll spam a couple more +2s.
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Yeah, originally it was going to be more about his traveling down to Rosedale to pay the tax bill, but I met up with that other theme somewhere along the way and it took over.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-04-27 15:11:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
very cool
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2006-04-26 09:05:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What the fuck were you worried about?!
Submitted by r0fl (user info) at 2006-04-25 17:11:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
And to think, I once retaliatory +1ed you.
I have not forgotten, and am ashamed.
Submitted by richsghostdog (user info) at 2006-04-25 16:41:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent prose...worthy of a twilight zone classic...
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-04-25 16:40:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
And, Stagger, the math really isn't that difficult.
Eh, 1.67.
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-04-25 16:38:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-04-25 16:38:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This post is definitely a +2.
I have to say, though, that it doesn't fit the theme. "The devil" is its own theme.
Therefore, 1.5, see above. After the ratings end, I'll spam a couple more +2s.
Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-04-25 16:20:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I apparently have caused drama in Uberland for trying to get to the next round by misusing the one thing we all get to use, ratings. Whoops.
This was an excellent piece of writing and anyone who reads it will recognize that. You're ability to create the image of an old man's confrontation with the devil on an empty dusty road is exceptional, as was the story surrounding the confrontation.
-Chronic
Good luck for the rest of the Comp. Win it. You're capable.
Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-04-25 15:00:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I'd rather have you working on Project Centaur than continuing in this competition.
I'm a cutthroat player. Sorry.
Submitted by BranDo (user info) at 2006-04-24 11:34:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great story.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-24 11:02:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kidding about annoyance re: 1.5 ratings, and the like. I suspect there will be a lot of it. I wouldn't want to have to do it, but you do. Enjoy!
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 11:00:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kidding about which part?
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:54:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Stag- I hope you're kidding. Such ratings are common in these comps when entries are so close and available ratings are so limited, and I'll likely be using them too.
Enjoy your math!
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:38:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Poorly.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:38:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Rating
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:38:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Accidentally
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:38:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hate
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:38:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:37:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
AND I WAS SO ANNOYED THAT I BLEW THE RATING MYSELF! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:37:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Goddammit Beano, now I'm gonna actually have to calculate his new rating using maths instead of just ignoring the -2 (til your little stunt it was a perfect 2 without FatTony's rating). And I HATE MATHS!
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:36:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-22 05:47:05 (#)
Ranking: 2
This was excellent, but surely you *have* to sell out to the Devil? That's what all the best musicians do.
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Can you imagine the shame of being rejected by the Devil?
"Will you make me the greatest guitar player in the world in exchange for my soul?"
"Um. Okay, look, how do I say this. What you got there is not a soul I'd want to be seen tooling around in. Best I could do with it is keep it up on blocks in the front yard and use it for parts."
"You mean it's not worth anything at all to you?"
"Tell you what, kid... how would you like to be the world's greatest flutist?"
---
Nah man - I meant if the Devil offers you have to take his deal.
I used to play the flute when I was little. It was shit. Fucking Greensleaves
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:24:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Sorry ! A 1.5 from me.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:24:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-04-24 08:50:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yes!
Submitted by recall (user info) at 2006-04-23 23:26:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wonderful story telling.
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-04-23 22:40:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-23 18:23:39 (#)
Fantastic. Good turn at the end too. It was like a familiar blues tale in a way, yet it ended in sort of triumphant tragedy.
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I'm glad the ending came out well-- I had a different one on there, and right before I posted I had to change it for no easily explainable reason.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-22 05:47:05 (#)
Ranking: 2
This was excellent, but surely you *have* to sell out to the Devil? That's what all the best musicians do.
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Can you imagine the shame of being rejected by the Devil?
"Will you make me the greatest guitar player in the world in exchange for my soul?"
"Um. Okay, look, how do I say this. What you got there is not a soul I'd want to be seen tooling around in. Best I could do with it is keep it up on blocks in the front yard and use it for parts."
"You mean it's not worth anything at all to you?"
"Tell you what, kid... how would you like to be the world's greatest flutist?"
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-23 18:23:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fantastic. Good turn at the end too. It was like a familiar blues tale in a way, yet it ended in sort of triumphant tragedy.
Submitted by Stuch (user info) at 2006-04-23 11:50:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Goddamn it, the standard of all these entries is really starting to get me down.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-04-22 20:11:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-22 19:50:50 (#)
Ranking: 2
Lord God and Sonny Jesus!
You should write more fiction, man.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-22 19:50:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Lord God and Sonny Jesus!
You should write more fiction, man.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-22 12:02:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-04-22 10:59:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome storytelling.
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-04-22 06:58:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The devil and blues are like chalk and more chalk
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-22 05:47:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was excellent, but surely you *have* to sell out to the Devil? That's what all the best musicians do.
Submitted by FatTony (user info) at 2006-04-22 02:28:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
WTF I'm not reading all that.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2006-04-22 00:49:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Godamn that's good.
You still surprise me.
Submitted by unknown9 (user info) at 2006-04-22 00:01:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
very powerful