The Day He Went Down to Georgia | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: The Day He Went Down to Georgia | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Gage
08/17/17
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He never believed the devil was real until his very personal encounter.

It happened the year of his 20-year college reunion. It was simple, drive 11 hours, sleep, go to the GSU reunion and catch up with his fraternity buddies, then return home. His wife was not so sure and declined to go, not wanting to relive that past. Oblivious to the peril he was about to experience he kissed her goodbye and drove off.

The drive was uneventful, until on a long stretch of highway, when a red vehicle ripped past him in a blur. Cruising the speed limit in the right lane, he somehow caught up to the convertible Mustang. Suspiciously, it switched lanes and followed dangerously close behind him, then whipped astride his ’67 Camaro. It lingered. The Mustang’s engine revved and something ignited in him. He glanced over to peer into a scruff haired-driver’s eerie dark eyes. He knew that stare. It’d been years since he opened up this Camaro’s 325-engine. This shouldn’t have been the time nor the place. But next thing you know, both were exceeding 100 MPH, neck and neck for more than 3 miles. A blaring siren snapped him back to reality. As he accepted his speeding ticket the officer guaranteed he was lucky that he was not taken in for recklessness. When inquired about the Mustang, the officer rolled his eyes.

He arrived at his destination. Oddly, the guy at the hotel desk looked familiar. With a cockeyed smile, he handed him his key and a newspaper, “Free paper.”

Who reads these? He kicked off his loafers and laid down. His eyes popped open. Insomnia again. After an hour of trying to talk to himself to sleep he sat up to reach for the Bible in the drawer. The paper caught his attention. When he opened it a playing card fell on the floor. He picked it up and stared a scantily-dressed voluptuous woman. He would have torn it to shreds, but something burned in his loin. His heart raced and sweat formed on his brow. Another hour, no sleep. In the dark, he slid his hand over the picture. He had sworn this off years ago. His wife hated it and many a battle ensued from some little pictures. His imagination got the best, as he got up and went to his computer. An hour later, he was feeling shameful and stormed out of the room.

He went across the street to a bar. As he downed a few shots, the typical bartender tried to start a conversation. Not in the mood, he ignored it. The persistent bartender tapped his shoulder. He lifted his head, intending to tell him to bug off, but was entranced by the scruff-hair and deep black eyes. The bartender raised his eyebrows, grinned and tipped his head toward the other side of the bar.

There she was. It had been over 20 years and she looked the exact same. Their eyes met and time melted. They talked for hours about the good times.

She lured him, “Good times are here again.”

The two turned to leave arm in arm. The bartender smiled. As they were exiting the bar the sun rise appeared on the horizon. The sunshine gleamed off his wedding ring making him instantly sober.

“This is wrong!” without apology, he left her in the dust, literally.

Tires screeched as he slammed on the pedal and headed for home. In his urgency, he over-shot a curve and his Camaro landed in a ditch. A strange sight caught his attention. In the nearby field, he was a boy with a violin and across from him he was shocked to see a scruffy-hair dark-eyed guy standing on a hickory stump, instrument in hand. Mesmerized, he watched the encounter unfold.

On that hot Georgia day, he watched those two duel those fiddles. From the hickory stump, the hissing sound from fingertips was ear-piercing. The unshaken boy played with confidence and expertise. When it was all played and done the devil set a golden fiddle at the boy’s feet. He won.

Awestruck and amazed, he realized that he himself had a close encounter too. He jumped out of the bush and gave the boy a big thumbs-up. The devil long-gone.

They congratulated each other. And though Johnny-boy said he would invite a rematch, he knew next time he saw the devil, he would RUN.

References: Bible, James 4:7 and Charlie Daniels Band: The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

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