He hadn’t stopped running for days. Constant fear rattled his body, forcing his eyes to dart from left to right. Where you gon’ run now? they had said, and this was the last place.

The rock couldn’t hide him. He’d said: “Rock! Whats’a matter wi’ you? I need you!”
But the rock refused.
The river boiled.
The sea bled.

Then he found the Lord.
Falling to his knees, he yelled “Please have me Lord! Don’t you see me prayin’? Don’t you see me down here praying, Lord?”
The Lord stared at the pile of rag and bone knelt before him.
“Lord, where will you be when me old and grey?”
“Sinnerman, you oughta be praying,” the Lord boomed. “You no praying, sinnerman. Child, where were you when you oughta been praying?”
“Power!” he cried. “Take me. Power to da Lord!”
“Go to the Devil,” the Lord had said. “He is the only one who will take you.”
“Don’t you know I need you Lord?”

Then he turned away, with one last look over his shoulder. He ran to the Devil, and the Devil was waiting.