Legend of Cotton-Eye Joe Pt. 01

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Here’s the first part of a new series that’s been bouncing around in my head begging to be let out. For those unfamiliar with me, be advised that my work is known to contain graphic descriptions of incestuous sex, strong language, magic, and sometimes violence, although in this part there is only the threat of violence. All characters are 18 or older. And as usual ratings, comments, and constructive criticism are welcome.

Also, a special thank you to lonewolf68alpha who provided an invaluable service in editing this work and making it the best it can be. And now, on with the story!

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Prologue

If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe

I’d been married long time ago

Where did you come from, where did you go

Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?

The words may vary, but almost every Southerner is familiar with the folk ballad ‘Cotton-Eye Joe,’ which has experienced a surge in popularity in recent years due to some recent coverings of the classic tune. However, what most people don’t realize is that this piece is based on an actual individual, a conclusion I have come to through meticulous research and investigation. Notice I say individual and not man, for reasons that will soon become clear.

Not much is known about this enigmatic figure, only that he appeared sometime in the mid-1800s and travelled the length and breadth of the South over several decades, playing his banjo and asking anyone who’d speak with him about his ‘missing people,’ about which he himself could provide only the scantest of details. Despite his rather unkempt and ragged appearance, he was so charming and charismatic most were more than eager to speak with him, from city gentry to backwoods folk. However, none apparently could offer him any help in his search. When asked his name, he merely said something to the effect of “Kotony’jo,” which he claims means ‘lost’ in the language of his people.

Opinions remain divided on his character, with some swearing he’s been their savior, a miracle man who’s changed their lives and showed them true happiness. Others call him monster, demon, even the devil himself who rose from the pit to tempt hapless victims to forfeit their souls for a life of debauchery and sin. No doubt, many of these accusations stem from the fact that he has been charged with using his charm to great effect on the ladies when the mood strikes him, especially in conjunction with his music, to the chagrin of their would-be suitors.

However, despite this rather wide-spread belief, I have to this date found no woman, whether in reading private accounts or those I speak with in person, who will admit to being seduced by this figure or having any sort of romantic liaison with him. Rather, they insist that this travelling vagabond helped them find true love, ümraniye escort not take it for himself. Which is odd in and of itself, since records and personal testimony indicate that they abandoned their lovers, fiancés, and even husbands after encountering this enigmatic figure. When I press for more information from those willing to talk to me in person, they all down to the last one simply smile and end the interview.

But one thing cannot be denied is that wherever he travels, there is usually some disturbance within the community and many lives are changed forever, for good or ill depends on whom one chooses to believe. Such things are not for me to judge, I have recorded all available evidence and testimony I have managed to collect, vague as it may be, in a separate volume and it is up to each individual reader to draw their own conclusions regarding this figure’s motivations and character. In any case, his notoriety and infamous exploits caused this figure to be immortalized in the folk ballad “Cotton-Eye Joe,” (as his name sounded to the ears of our ancestors), attesting to his unusually brilliant white eyes, his baffling way of disappearing from a place as mysteriously as he appears, as well as his reputed amorous and disruptive nature.

If this was where the story ended, then this would be a fascinating but otherwise unnoteworthy footnote in the annals of Southern folklore. But if you’ll notice, I have used the present tense in talking about Cotton-Eye Joe and many of the people whose lives he has touched, for I believe that his story has yet been concluded. But before I am mocked or labeled a madman and driven in disgrace from my post at the university, allow me to explain myself.

Even in the nineteenth century, people remarked in their journals at Joe’s apparent youthfulness and how he hadn’t seemed to age from when he’d visited their neck of the woods ten or twenty years prior. But then shortly after the turn of the twentieth century, just when such questions were beginning to be asked in earnest, the one known as Cotton-Eye Joe disappeared without a trace. Most people just assumed he had passed away, perhaps shot by some jealous husband, and let the matter rest with him as his story faded from memory and into legend.

Then, some time ago when I’d just started college, I began to hear rumors of a man claiming to be Cotton-Eye Joe had reappeared, this time sticking to small towns, rural outcroppings, and avoiding big cities, still looking for his people, whoever they were. For years I dismissed it as a ploy of struggling communities looking to boost the tourist trade, until someone sent me a photograph of this alleged ‘Cotton-Eye Joe,’ and I compared it to a picture taken of him in the late 1800s. Not only I, but several experts ünye escort in a wide range of fields agree that the picture is authentic and that it is almost certainly the same person in both pictures, not an imposter or close relative. Furthermore, the same pattern of disorder left in his wake resumed, a fact I had to practically pry out of reluctant and somewhat befuddled witnesses on condition of anonymity.

And so was launched my own quest to find this mysterious individual and discover his true nature. Is he just an exceptionally adept and suave con artist taking advantage of a folk legend in order to gain a brief moment of fame and attention from the ladies, or is he perhaps something we humans are not yet ready to comprehend? Is he merely a whimsical and somewhat mischievous drifter looking for his place in the world, or are his ultimate aims far more sinister? Answers to these and other questions have thus far eluded me as I have always been two steps behind him, merely documenting the aftermath of his deeds in a place after he has long departed.

But at last, I have a lead that may at last allow me to unravel the truth. A trusted friend and colleague has reported that a person matching the description of Cotton-Eye Joe has been seen wandering the roads near Greendale, a small town in the foothills of western North Carolina. My bags are packed, and tomorrow I depart on a journey that I hope will finally reveal the answers that I have sought for so long.

Excerpt from the private writings of Dr. Arthur Cunningham, Professor of Southern History he might still be around somewhere.”

Her brother smiled and shook his head. “Naw, he’s gone and won’t be back, so don’t fret none about it,” he said in that strong, assuring tone that she adored. “You know your brother wouldn’t lie to you, right?” he asked, his eyes flashing gold.

The last coherent thought she had was that her brother’s eyes had never done that in all the years she’d known him, before something fuzzy settled over her mind and a warm languorous feeling flowed through her body. It was sorta like the way she felt after a few too many of the drinks she wasn’t supposed to be having at her age, except this felt much better than that, making her tingle in her special and secret places. “Of course I know that,” she said, leaning her head against the door jamb, smiling fondly at her brother. “It’s one of the many reasons I love you, Will, because you’re always straight with me.”

“And when you say you love me,” her brother pressed, you don’t just mean the way you people expect a sister to love her sibling. You mean something more, much more, don’t you?”

Some small part of Savannah was screaming at her to stay silent, that the secret she’d harbored for so long was one that should stay hidden forever, urfa escort but it was being drowned out by this incredible feeling of freedom and openness coursing through her brain and body, washing away her inhibitions and doubts, loosening her tongue to give voice to what she’d been bottling up inside for too long. “Yes,” she said simply, and soon everything else that she’d trapped inside came spilling out.

“Ever since I was a kid I’ve looked up to you, Will, ‘specially after pa left,” she began, eyes shining. “Then when I was older I started having fantasies about you, being with you in every way a woman can be with a man. I can’t count the number of times I’ve pleasured myself thinking about us together intimately, our bodies joined into one. I thought it would pass, but it’s only gotten stronger over the years and I’ve come to realize that it’s more than just a crush or fantasy. I love you, brother, and you’re the man I want to be with forever.”

He nodded solemnly. “I thought so. Savannah, I forgot something at the diner so I’m going to run back for it real quick. In the meantime, why don’t you go in the house and take a nap on the couch until I return.” He thought for a moment. “Better yet, is there any particular outfit you have that when you wear it, I’ve taken a bit more notice of you and all your many good points?”

Savannah smiled knowingly. “Yes, several in fact.”

“Good. Instead of nappin’, when you go back in put one of them on, and maybe some perfume and whatever else you think appropriate to make yourself perfect for me. After I get back and we’re gonna have dinner, and you’re going to talk about all the good times we’ve had over the years. Then you’re going to sit down on the couch with me and repeat everything you just confessed to me word for word, and you’re not gonna feel a shred o’ shame doing it. And I think you’ll find that he, I mean I, have been thinking the same thing about you, but too scared and pigheaded to admit it. Then we’ll decide where we’ll go from there.

“Oh, yeah, and don’t worry about ma,” he added. “She’s sleepin’ soundly upstairs and won’t hear a thing until she wakes up tomorrow morning, so you and I will have plenty of uninterrupted time to talk and…whatever else we choose to do,” he said, wagging his eyebrows. “And if we do pursue things, it’s entirely possible we’ll find ma quite open to the idea, more so in fact for reasons you’re already aware of. Now go on back inside before you let all the air out,” he said with a flick of his hand.

Savannah smiled dreamily and turned around, heading back into the house and closing the door without another word. Joe stretched his lanky limbs before turning and heading down the porch steps to a large magnolia tree in the middle of the yard, beside which sat a worn and weathered leather satchel, a banjo propped against it. He leaned himself against the trunk, taking the canteen hanging at his waist and after unstoppering it, took a swig of the strong-smelling moonshine inside. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm evening air of summer and the rich, sweet aroma of the tree’s blooms, and waited.

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