Justin walked into the bar, exuding an old-world charm in his 1930s-styled suit, a guitar case in hand. His intellect was a quiet storm, with an IQ of 190, surpassing even that of Einstein.
“There is nothing better than listening to a quantum physics podcast on a Friday afternoon,” he announced with a casual grin.
The bar patrons glanced at him before resuming their drinks and conversations.
An Army vet living off a disability check, Justin constantly sought ways to fill his time. This week, he decided to entertain the Friday night crowd with his singing and guitar playing.
Two years ago, shortly after his second tour in Afghanistan, Justin had hit rock bottom. PTSD had taken a heavy toll, and in his darkest moment, he attempted to end his life. Surviving the attempt and 13 days in a coma, however, brought a renewed vigor to his existence.
Tonight, he would prove his mettle once again. As he set up the stage and plugged in his guitar, the room heard a near-flawless sound check hinting at the magic to come.
He joined me at the bar, ordering a beer. “Tonight is gonna be a Robert Johnson sorta night,” he said, raising his bottle in a toast. We clinked bottles and took a hearty swig.
Before we knew it, it was time for Justin to take the stage.
“Break a leg,” I offered.
“Oh, I’m gonna do more than that,” he replied with a smile.
The bar had filled, and a hum of chatter filled the room. Justin adjusted the microphone, tapped it twice, and strummed a few chords. The sound was clear and resonant, instantly capturing the attention of everyone in earshot.
“Good evening, everyone,” Justin began, his voice strong and steady.
“Tonight, we’re going on a journey back to the crossroads, where Robert Johnson made a deal with the devil to become the greatest blues guitarist of all time. Hope y’all are ready for some blues.”
He launched into “Cross Road Blues,” his fingers dancing over the strings with precision and passion. The room fell silent, the audience captivated by Justin’s performance.
As he played, the air around him began to shimmer in an unsettling way. A soft, eerie glow emanated from his body, growing brighter and more intense. Suddenly, Justin became engulfed in flames, their unnatural violet hue casting an eerie glow over the room.
Gasps of fear rippled through the audience. The patrons exchanged uneasy glances, some stepping back, unsure of what they were witnessing.
But Justin played on, seemingly unfazed by the fire that surrounded him. His eyes were closed, his expression one of pure concentration and passion.
The initial fear began to give way to a strange fascination. The flames danced and flickered, casting long, wavering shadows on the walls.
As Justin finished the first song, the flames slowly began to subside, and the bar erupted in hesitant applause, the tension palpable.
Justin opened his eyes and smiled. He took a moment to catch his breath, then leaned into the microphone.
“Thank you, everyone. This next one is a little something I wrote myself. It’s about finding your soul in the darkest of places.”
As he began to play again, the flames reappeared, even more vibrant and dynamic, their glow sinister and otherworldly. The following two hours flew by in a rythme of four-four time.
After his final song, the applause came, still tinged with an undercurrent of unease. The fire around Justin flickered one last time before vanishing completely, leaving him unharmed.
He returned to the bar.
“Man, that was incredible,” I said, handing him another beer.
“Thanks,” Justin replied, a satisfied smile on his face. “It’s amazing how music can heal, isn’t it?”
I nodded, though a shiver ran down my spine. “Yeah, it really is. You have a gift, Justin. Don’t ever forget that.”
We sat in uncomfortable silence, sipping our beers and soaking in the still-vibrating atmosphere. The night was still young, but I knew that what Justin had shared tonight would linger in the minds of everyone who heard it, a haunting memory.
As the bar slowly returned to its usual buzz of conversations and laughter, I noticed a thin, dark man sitting close by, his eyes fixed on Justin. Something was unsettling about him, a shadow that seemed to follow him even in the dim light. Justin never introduced me to the man, who disappeared without a trace a few minutes later.
Justin looked at me and said, “You know, I think I’m finally starting to find my place in this world again.”
I smiled and raised my bottle, knowing nothing was strange about his performance, as it was natural to Virginia City. “Here is to finding our place, no matter how long it takes.”
We clinked bottles again, taking another drink.