There is a thing such as souls. They can be bought. They can be sold. They can be crushed. My friend, Jeffery Hofland, knows this. His own soul had been sold at a crossroads in the Mississippi, to an old wizened black man with no name or teeth to speak of. At the time Hofland was a nothing, a nobody. Merely … Read more

There is a thing such as souls. They can be bought. They can be sold. They can be crushed. My friend, Jeffery Hofland, knows this. His own soul had been sold at a crossroads in the Mississippi, to an old wizened black man with no name or teeth to speak of. At the time Hofland was a nothing, a nobody. Merely a boy with with a yearning towards a world that wouldn't have him. So he dug in his shoulder and did what was asked in order to make a living. He swung for the fences and he dug all the graves. He lived each day knowing there'd be a tomorrow. But this was not in the cards for ol' Jeffery Hofland. Each day was a hell made worse by the world. He fumed and he shouted "This can't be it for me!" His nose to the grindstone, his back to the wheel. So he shrugged off the weights and pried off the shackles. He gathered some things and left the rest on the mantle. He trudged in the dark not knowing where to go. The damp chill of the fog settled into his heart. He was lost and hungry. He had no food, only a box full of mirrors in his hands which had belonged to his dead sister. She had been adorably gored to death by a baby unicorn. Holding it he thought of her and his situation. Far from home and lost, he felt doomed. He was to waste away here on this moonless night, alone and nameless. It was in that moment of despair when he heard it. The twang of string and the echo of hollowed wood combined to form a sound. The sound was dark and sneering, but he could follow it. He walked on, faster and faster, towards the music. And sitting there on an old crate, guitar in hand, sat an old black man in a wide brimmed hat. Looking up at Hofland he took a deep hit from the cigarillo sticking out from the head of the guitar. Smoke blew from his nostrils and those bloodshot eyes looked directly into Hofland's own. "What is it you want boy?" Jeffery stared back into those eyes and saw a future filled with cars and yachts, money and mansions. He lost himself in it; and the mirror filled box slipped his grip and fell, shattering the contents on the ground. Smiling to himself the old black man stood and picked up the pieces. Jeffery watched him place the box back together, but not exactly the way it belonged. There were two holes now, one in front and one on back. He had fitted a piece of glass over the larger one. The old black man brought the box to his face and pointed the glass covered hole at Hofland. *Click* His image appeared on a piece of paper coming out of the box. Immediately he felt a chill run through him, like a violent breeze that shook him to his bones. He felt empty. Grabbing the picture in his bone thin fingers the red eyed guitar player took a larger hit from the cigarillo and held the photo out to Jeffery. "It's yours if you want it." Jeffery shook his head. He had seen his future and he would grasp it, no matter the cost. And so he grabbed the box from the red eyed coyote and took off into the night. A deep, gravel filled chuckle resonated behind him as the twang of the guitar sang into the night. He still felt empty, but assured himself fame and fortune fill holes left by souls. And so it was that he arrived into a city of angels, having already met one. Fallen for sure, but angel nonetheless. There was life here and it moved heartily. He looked through the newly constructed box into the world he was finally a part of. *Click* An image appeared on the paper in the box. It was a girl, beautiful and alive. Looking at the picture warmed him where his soul used to be. The warmth, however, didn't last. So he took another, and another, stealing bits and pieces of soul from unsuspecting bystanders or able minded models. He has grown accustomed to the warmth, however fleeting and will stop at nothing to achieve it. It is here in his story that we met. Years, if not decades, ago on a journey towards capturing that perfect image, one that might right all wrongs and have our souls returned to us permanently.