Skip to main content

Wait ‘Til Jesse Comes

 A long time ago, an old traveling salesman was riding through rural Mississippi as he had done for more years than he could remember. His trusty old horse seemed as tired as he was, trudging down the long dirt road toward yet another strange town. The old man rubbed his red eyes with his cracked, leathery hands and sighed — this was no longer the life for him.

Spooky Log Cabin at Night

As night fell, a hard rain suddenly crashed down upon them. As booming thunderclaps rattled the dark skies above, the old man decided he better find some shelter for the night. But there were no homes as the far as the eye could see.

Then, in a white flash of lightning, he spotted a dark, run-down house sitting up on a hillside. He found his way in the dark up to the front door and knocked. To his surprise, the door creaked open on its rusty hinges, revealing a musty old living room — empty, save for one chair and a stone fireplace.

“Hello?” called out the salesman. Nobody answered, so the salesman figured he would wait out the storm in the house. He was also surprised to find that the fireplace was stocked with a fresh pile of wood. He took out a box of matches and lit himself a roaring fire. As he sat down in the wooden chair, he could feel the many miles of his journey creeping through his bones. The sound of rain falling on the tin roof above relaxed him, and before he knew it, he fell fast asleep.

A couple of hours later, something startled him from his sleep. He woke up and saw a black cat standing in front of the roaring fire, staring at him through bright yellow eyes. The cat walked up to the chair, purred loudly and rubbed up against the salesman’s leg. “Nice kitty,” said the salesman as he rubbed the cat’s back, “very nice kitty.”

“Wait ’til Jesse comes,” purred the cat in response.

The salesman suddenly froze, then laughed it off. I must be dreaming, he thought — surely that cat didn’t just speak to me! He dozed off again, the warmth of the fire filling his aching bones.

“What shall we do with him?” asked the second cat to the first in a booming voice.

“Let’s wait ’til Jesse comes,” hissed the first cat.

The salesman shook his head, thinking that his long, tiring travels had finally gone to his brain. For this was the strangest dream he had ever dreamt. He sighed and fell back asleep.

Another hour passed, and the salesman awoke again. This time there were three black cats staring at him — but the third cat was as big as a horse, with large, menacing eyes that seemed to burn with yellowish evil. The third cat turned to the other two and said in a loud voice that drowned out the booming thunderclaps outside:

“Shall we do it now?”

“Soon, very soon,” hissed the first cat. “Let’s wait ’til Jesse comes.”

Well, now the salesman had heard enough. He leapt out of the chair, flung open the door and ran as fast as he could out into the ferocious storm. He scrambled onto his horse and rode away, shouting back over his shoulder:

“It was very nice meeting you, but when Jesse comes, tell him I couldn’t wait!”

-THE END –

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

McDow Hole – Anatomy Of A Texas Ghost Story

  Spooky Texas legend of the McDow Hole, where ghost sightings of pioneer woman Jenny Papworth and her baby have long been reported.  Written by Bob Hopkins . I first heard the legendary tale of the Ghost of the McDow Hole in the fifteenth year of my youth. It was near Halloween in October 1975 when a friend related the tale of the ghost that haunts a creek bed in rural Erath County and naturally I believed every word of it in the twilight of an evening spent with friends telling ghost stories. I would again hear the tale over the years while living in North Central Texas. It wasn’t until my chance encounter of meeting an author of the legend in 2002 that my curiosity began to peak and like any good investigator I felt it my duty to dig deeper into the hundred year old tale of pioneer folklore to see how much of the story was true and how much was fabricated. I would discover many similarities in fact and fiction that I believed would leave any reader with the same curiosity t...

Tsali: North Carolina Cherokee Ghost Story

  The year was 1838. As the first rays of early morning light crept through the dark and misty mountain valley, Tsali gazed out of his tiny cave with a heavy heart. As a young boy, he spent days running though the thick woods and scampering up the steep, rocky hillsides that surrounded his Cherokee village in western North Carolina. The mountains were his place of escape — a place where he could dream, and be alone with his thoughts. But now, as an ailing, 60-year-old man, Tsali was hiding in these hills for a very different reason. The white man had taken away the land that his ancestors had lived on for centuries. And they would not stop until even these majestic, sacred hills were theirs. Tsali looked out and saw his fellow villagers, who were also hiding in the tiny crevices that dotted the wooded hillside. Many were shivering in the early morning chill. In their haste to leave, they had had no time to pack their belongings. Some managed to smile back at Tsali, their teeth chat...

Lorenzo Dow’s Georgia Curse

  There comes a time in life when we all need a little guidance – a little helpful push to remind us what’s right and wrong. And for some folks, that guidance comes from some good old fashioned, fire and brimstone preaching. Now these days, you can’t turn on the TV without seeing one religious channel after another. But back in the old days when there wasn’t any TV – or cars for that matter – the traveling preacher was the only man of God some country folk got to see. Lorenzo Dow was one of the best-known traveling preachers back in the 1800s. He was a funny looking man from Connecticut – tall and skinny with wild eyes, long stringy hair, a thick beard, and a slight hunchback. But he also had a booming voice that made sinners across the country shake in their boots. “Repent now, my brothers and sisters! Repent!” he would scream in every town he visited, and many people did just that. Lorenzo loved the outdoors, and would rather sleep on cold, hard ground in the woods than the most ...