The Devil Went Down to Southeast Texas: A Short Story

The spiritual successor to "The Man Who Invented Socks". This is a work of fiction.

Georgie Jennings and Wilbur Nelson sauntered out to the playground for recess, like they always did on any other day, to eat sandwiches and tell stories. They did this every single day. One day they are going to be chasing girls, getting jobs, and perhaps they will drift apart like many friends do in life. For now, it was just Georgie, Wilbur, and the stories.

“You know, I was thinking about that ridiculous socks story you told me last week.” Wilbur said.

“You mean the one that was entirely true with no anachronisms or lies?” Georgie asked.

“It was the one about your great great grandfather, with the country music name.” Wilbur answered.

“Waylon Jennings, yes, and for the last time Wilbur, he was my great great great grandfather.” Georgie snapped.

“Alright whatever, yes, the reason I bring it up is that it made me look into some of my family history. Turns out that my great great great grandfather got up to some wild escapades in the South around the same time your great great great grandfather was brutally murdered by a God-fearing U.S. Marshall who stole his idea for socks.” Wilbur explained.

“Oh, well please, do tell,” Georgie joked, “After all, I’m tired of carrying recess with my stories. It’s about time you pulled your weight.”

“If you’re gonna be like this,” Wilbur said as he crossed his arms, “I’m not even gonna bother.”

“Oh, come on!” Georgie exclaimed, “The floor is yours.”

“Fine, but unfortunately for you, this one is a little bit more grounded in reality.” Wilbur said.

Georgie remained silent as he gave Wilbur his full attention. Wilbur began.

In 1891, on the small, but bolstering island that laid just off the coast of Galveston, Texas, lived my great great great grandfather, William Nelson.

“Stop right there,” Georgie interrupted, “Like ‘Willie Nelson’?”You mean to tell me that both of our great great great grandfathers share the names of famous country singers? There’s just no way.”

“I guess.” Wilbur said “Anyways.”

William, like many others, was an Irish immigrant seeking a new life in the land of opportunity. Fortunately, or unfortunately (depending on how you look at it), William’s boat sailed right past the Boston Harbor and Ellis Island and eventually landed on Galveston Island, Texas. On the one hand, Texas (believe it or not) was more welcoming to the Irish than Boston or New York. On the other hand, William had no plan for work. At this point, Boston and New York were well established cities that did not want to give the Irish the time of day when it came to work. Many Irish immigrants became cops and William was happy to do just that, but it was not an option in a small Texas town. When he arrived in Galveston, he knew he had a problem, much like your great great great grandfather, Waylon Jennings.

What set William apart from many of the other immigrants was that he did not flee Ireland because of the famine. He didn’t even like potatoes. He was, in fact, running from his gambling debts. He had run up a hefty tab playing cards, roulette, and betting on unlicensed boxing operated by a Protestant gang, the Glasgow Ghosts. The tab became such a problem that the Catholic gang he belonged to, The Banshee St. Boys, agreed to stop the bloodshed caused by William’s carelessness by sending him to America, thus restoring some semblance of order in the homeland. The idea was for William to earn an honest living in a more prosperous place, which could allow him to pay the Protestants back in due time. For security, the Protestants sent two men, John and John, to keep an eye on William, make sure he was NOT gambling, and report back to Ireland via the newly invented overseas mailing system. John and John, while gangsters, were also very talented tap dancers. The trip to the United States gave the Johns an opportunity to showcase their talents to some fresh eyes, and perhaps make a buck of their own.

After about a year and a half with no luck finding a steady source of income, William was at a crossroads, both literally and figuratively. He was running out of time. The Johns were coming to collect tomorrow afternoon (after their tap showcase). As William sat at the crossroads he pondered whether he should take his own life, to claim the satisfaction of his death for himself. As time passed, and William sat at the crossroads, unbothered by civilization, a figure sauntered up the road, approaching him. The Texas heat marred William’s view of the figure, and he squinted with his hand over his eyes until the figure drew closer. The figure was a slender, but intimidating man, dressed in a three piece suit with a chain hanging from his vest’s pocket. When the man reached William, he just stood there, analyzing William. William could not bear the silence anymore, so he spoke up.

“You seem to be dressed a little too fancy to be wandering around all the way out here.” William said.

“I go wherever I’m needed, William” the Man said.

“You know my name?” William asked.

“I know all the names of the lost souls that come to these crossroads looking for a way out.” the Man answered.

“How did you know I would be here?” asked William, as he became more scared than frustrated.

“Someone always comes to the crossroads,” the Man said, “Today just happened to be your lucky day. If I’m not mistaken, you’re in a bit of trouble, you need money. That is where I come in. You see, I’m a businessman, I grant lost souls their greatest wish, in exchange for a small fee.”

“Is that right?” William asked, “What’s the fee?”

“All I ask for in return is the right to your soul for eternal damnation after you inevitably perish.” the Man said.

William was bewildered. He could not believe what he was hearing. He stood up from the rock he was sitting on, clutching the revolver he planned to kill himself with.

“Alright, that’s enough cryptic horseshit for one day. I was minding my own business, and you come strolling up talking about souls, knowing my name. Just who the fuck do you think you are?” William sneered as he raised the revolver to the man.

“You can’t kill me, William, no matter how hard you try. As for me, I am known by many names. The Prince of Darkness, The Serpent, Beelzebub…. Satan.” the Man hissed.

“Bullshit.” William said as his finger squeezed the trigger, firing a single bullet into the Man’s chest.

The Man did not flinch, as the bullet passed right through him, striking a rock in the distance, letting out a crack that echoed through the desert.

“I told you William, I am the Devil.” the Man said with a smile.

William raised his hands to his head in fear.

“Oh fuck!” William shouted, “Look, I am so sorry about the whole shooting you business. I’m sure you can understand that I thought you were just some creepy, yet well dressed for some reason, vagrant right?

“Oh sure, don’t sweat it. I’m here for you. I want to help” the Devil responds, “Besides, I would have thought you recognized me from the movies. You know, you’re down on your luck. Suddenly I show up at the crossroads, offering you a deal for your soul? ”

“What the fuck is a movie?” William asked.

“Wait, what year is this?” the Devil asks.

“1891” William answers calmly.

“Righhhht, okay well in a few years, news is going to make it to the United States that the French started making moving pictures, and they will become very popular. Then, in the distant future, different iterations of this very conversation we are having will become a very popular trope.” the Devil explained. “Anyways, I digress, what can I grant to you, William, that is worth your soul?”

“I need you to clear up my gambling debts.” William said

“What? That’s it?” the Devil chuckled.

“Yeah, I owe a gang in Ireland 500 dollars.” William said.

“Jesus Christ! (That guy sucks by the way), that’s a lot. But yeah sure I can help you.” the Devil said.

“Really?” William asks.

“Yeah, for sure, BUT before I make this happen, are you absolutely sure you do not want to sell your soul to be the greatest guitar player to ever live, thus inventing rock ‘n roll?” the Devil said.

“What? No! What the hell are you talking about? You’re speaking Spanish right now. Why would I want that? I just want to clear my debt.” said William.

“Alright, suit yourself. You’re missing out, though. Someone is gonna take that offer sooner than later and you’re gonna kicking yourself for passing up” the Devil said.

“It’s fine. I’m focused on my situation right now.” William said.

“Okay, fine.” the Devil said, “but I can’t just give you the money, that’s not how it works. What you’re going to do is go to the Big Julep Casino Boat tonight on Galveston Island. You’re going to go to the empty roulette table and put $5 on ‘6’ three times in a row. Remember, 6-6-6, DO NOT put it all on 6 at once. It will hit all three times. Then you will have $525, pay off your debts, and ride off into the sunset.”

“I’m not supposed to be gambling.” William said.

“Tough shit dude! I’m the Devil! I don’t make the rules. I don’t even care if this works out for you, but a deal’s a deal, so just sign here to make it official.” the Devil said as he pulls a contract and pen from his jacket pocket.

The Devil said something in Latin as two more well dressed, but less menacing men, are conjured from the ground.

“Who are they?” William asks.

“Oh this is Marty and Pete. My lawyer and a notary for the contract.” the Devil answers.

William returns the contract to the Devil. He nods his head and William begins to walk away.

“Good luck buddy! See ya in Hell!” the Devil shouted as he pointed finger guns at William.

William half turned back to give the Devil a thumbs up, but all three men were gone.

William returned to Galveston, as he prepared for the night that will change his life. He put on his best outfit, and gathered the rest of the little money he had left. He headed for the Big Julep, prepared to leave the Casino a new man. As he walked on the boat, a feeling of relief washed over him. He strolled to get his chips. Fifteen $1 chips. William scanned the Casino floor. When he found the empty roulette table, he knew it was time to strike. He sat there, alone, waiting for a dealer to arrive. When the dealer arrived, he looked vaguely like the Man that William met at the crossroads. The Dealer winked at William. William smiled and nodded as he placed 5 chips on the black 6.

“All bets” the Dealer said.

As the roulette wheel spun, a bead of sweat began to roll off William’s forehead.

The ball slowed and bounced around the wheel as it finally landed. It landed on 6.

William smiled, took his winnings, and placed 5 more chips on 6. As the wheel spun again, William darted his eyes around the Casino, making sure he was not in any danger.

6 again. William became visibly excited.

As William placed five more chips on 6 he heard footstep approaching him from behind. These were not ordinary footsteps. William could recognize the clacking of tap shoes anywhere. It was the Johns.

“All bets” the Dealer said with a smile, as the clacking drew closer, until finally, they stopped.

William felt the pressure of a loaded gun against his back.

“We were told to not let you gamble under any circumstances” Big John said.

William remained focused on the wheel as he pointed to his winnings.

“If it lands on 6, you will never have to keep an eye on me ever again.” William said.

Sure enough, it landed on 6. William threw his hands in the air to celebrate.

“Congratulations, Bill” Big John said as he pulled the trigger, shooting William in the back. Blood sprayed onto the roulette wheel, and onto the Dealer’s shirt.

William woke up in a dark lobby with a spotlight that illuminated the front desk. Sitting at the desk was the Man from the crossroads.

“Hey buddy! Welcome to Hell!” the Man said.

“What the fuck just happened? I thought you were going to free me from my debt!” William yelled.

“I did?” the Man said

“You couldn’t have stopped the Johns from killing me?!” William asked.

“Oh… Well no. Who do you think told them you were at the casino?” the Man cheerfully responded.

“Why the hell would you do that?” William said.

“Dude! Hellooo! I’m still the Devil. I’m a knucklehead, a shit-stirrer, a rascal, a dirtbag! I knew how easy it would be to cash in on your soul early. You should have expected that.” the Devil said.

“Well I didn’t get to pay off my debt, so why am I in Hell? That wasn’t the deal.” William asked.

“Oh no no, all sales final pal. You signed the contract,” the Devil said “And once you paid off your debt you were going to really turn your life around, and that scumbag upstairs was gonna buy you out of your contract, so I was really doing myself a favor.”

“Oh Jesus Christ, no, this can’t be happening.” William cried.

The Devil let out a menacing laugh.

"Oh, he can’t help you now.”

“The end.” Wilbur said

“That’s the story of your great great great grandfather?” Georgie asked.

“Yup,” Wilbur said as he peeled a banana.

“Kind of dark, no?” Georgie followed up.

Wilbur shrugged.

“Yeah I suppose so, but at least it was realistic, unlike that sock nonsense.” Wilbur said calmly.

The End.

Thank you for reading, as always.

Follow @OneAyEmm on Instagram!

-CJ