It was 1932 in the humid summer in the Mississippi delta. You lived in a small house just outside of town. It was around 12:30 at night. Your house was silent, the only sounds present were the chirping crickets and the breeze of the wind outside moving the trees. It was peaceful, to say the least. But that was until you heard a knock at your front door. The sudden sound knocking you out of your thoughts. Who would stop by this late at night? Especially being far away from people? You walk over to the door…but you can’t help but be hesitant to open it. knock, knock, knock… You slowly put your hand on the doorknob and turn it. You open the door to see a man. Wearing a faint blue button-up long sleeved shirt loosely tucked. And dark trousers with suspenders hanging onto his shoulders. His dark hair swept back. With leather boots slightly worn down. Probably from a lot of walking. Topped off with a banjo hanging from his back. With his hands tucked into his pockets.

Do you let him in? The question races in your mind. It’s a simple request, with good manners. Why would you decline? But you still can’t seem to shake off the weird feeling about him as you make your decision.