H.H. Eastman
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hheastman.bsky.social
H.H. Eastman
@hheastman.bsky.social
Born in the frozen north, I traded an eye for wisdom. Guided by my companions, 2 ravens, I write not fiction, but "translations" of the old gods.
They say he sold his soul to the Devil at the crossroads.
They were wrong.
​Chapter 12 reveals the encounter with Papa Legba. No contracts, just a door opened to the horror and history living inside the music. Robert Johnson didn't lose his soul that night—he finally found a way to let it scream.
January 26, 2026 at 10:42 PM