This is the last ghost story of Ghost Stories and Urban Legends of Benton. There were a number of stories I wanted to include in this collection but could not because of the cost of printing. I'm sure those stories will appear in the sequel to this collection Ghost Stories and Urban Legends of The Yazoo Delta. A collection of ghost stories centering on the Yazoo Delta at large. This story was told to me by my mentor Lily Potter the older sister of my best friend Jamie Sarah Potter.

Wilson Creek is a clear, cold and swift moving creek that begins in the hills of Haunted Hollow and ends at the Big Black River. Some of the oldest homes in Benton are located here, back before the town had running water, people would use the creek for all their washing, bathing and drinking. The houses of this neighborhood number one to a hundred and fifteen. The cottages are mostly one story brick cottages, with black slate roofs with screened in front porches that sit only a stone's throw away from the brick street.

My best friend Robin, my partner in crime, my ride or die girl and I were having a sleep over at her house, we were twelve at the time and had been best friends since we were babies. Robin lived at One hundred and ten Wilson Creek near this marsh that was supposed to be haunted. Now there are two main rumors that center on the marsh. One is that deep in the marsh there is supposed to be this tree that was cursed by the satanic cult, the cult was supposed to have offered a litter of kittens to Satan in return to bringing the tree alive. The tree is supposed to eat people, the cult was supposed to have worshiped the tree and even brought kidnapped children to the tree so the tree could feast upon them. The souls of the children were supposed to be balls of light people often report dancing over the reeds and rushes.

Another rumor was an old witch was supposed to live deep in the marsh. Her house was supposed to be made from scrap pieces of wood she hawked from the discarded piles around town, mostly from the sawmill or Brewer’s Hardware. With a roof of weathered, rusted tin. She was said to have an oven that was an old iron drum can that was filled with firewood. She was supposed to be the only surviving member of the same Satanic cult that planet the tree. The walls of her tiny dwelling were supposed to be littered with occult symbols and Latin phrases used to summon the demonic.

Now it was almost midnight. Robin and I had just finished our second horror movie for the night. The rest of the house was asleep, and instead of turning off the lights and rolling into beds we were wide awake. It had been a fun filled day, Robin and I had spent the day, a fun filled day in Metro Center, the biggest enclosed shopping mall in Mississippi. We had ransacked the sales racks of Belk's, Claire's, Rue 18 and Pascagoula a beach theme shopee.

We had returned a few hours before sunset. Just enough time for Robin's mom to pick up two large pizzas, an extra large cheese bread and a big pop from Pizza World, a local pizza restaurant that has been a Benton staple for generations. They were the best pizza place before Pizza Opened up and to me they would remain the best Pizza Place when Pizza Hut closes. Anyway, we picked up the pizza and side and rented a dozen horror movies at the local BlockBuster.

Robin and I then did what most teenage girls do when staying over. We shared the latest rumors and gushed over the latest gossip. We painted each other's nails and did our hair. We munched on pizza and scared ourselves silly by watching horror movies and telling spooky ghost stories. And so the hours slipped through our hands like grains of sand at the beach and before we knew it was midnight. Now, I'm Episcopalian and Robin's Roman Catholic. And part of me staying over was Robin and I had to attend Eight O' Clock Mass down at All Saints, our towns Roman Catholic Church and then turn around and attend Eleven O' Clock Mass at St. Mary's Episcopal Church.

I guessed our folks thought we would have sinned enough the night before that we needed to attend two services. Anyway we had only eight hours to go before the bells of All Saints would chime and summon the faithful to prayer. And so as the old family clock struck the witching hour. Robin and I gathered our things. It was early February and the weather outside was foggy, cold and a bit rainy. With that in mind Robin and I dressed for warmth, comfort and movement.

Once we were dressed, Robin and gathered a few things, each of us carried a messenger bag that held a bottle of water, some dried fruit, a small first aid kit and a tiny sewing kit. Both Robin and I were seasoned scouts. And so we always carried the basic supplies with us. And of course we had our phones on us. Both phones were fully charged, though belonging to teen girls were low on credits no doubt.

Anyway once we were packed up, Robin and I gathered our courage and made our way out the front door, Robin made sure to lock the front door behind her. Her father was a bit of a hard knob when it came to doors being locked and unlocked. I don't think the man had a trusting bone in his body. Then again he was a policeman and had seen things neither of us could phantom. Anyway once the front door was locked, Robin and I started off on our quest to test our courage.

Now it took us almost a quarter of an hour of almost running to travel the distance from Robin's front porch to the outer edges of the marsh. A light rain had started to fall. Exchanging looks, Robin and I nodded our heads and started to push into the marsh. We were too afraid too search for the tree, so we decided to search for the witches hut. Once we pushed past the first wall of reeds, rushes and cattails we found, much to our amazement somebody had constructed a walkway through the marsh. Okay it was more like somebody had placed dozens and dozens of plastic pallets down. I remember once a long time ago the local merchants had reported an increasing number of pallets vanishing from behind their stores. My family owns a small store and most of our stock came in cracks, but from time to time we could get a few pallets in. Those pallets cost around five dollars a pop. If we returned them, dad would refund the five dollars, if they were lost or stolen that was five dollars lost. Dad always watched those pallets like a chicken watching her eggs. And when one or two ended up missing he would rant and rave for days.

But back to the story, that walkway extended deep into the marsh. It was narrow, and I had to follow closely behind Robin who was the one holding the lantern. Soon beads of sweat started to roll down our faces as we pushed deeper and deeper into the marsh. And soon the marsh gave way to a clearing. In the midst of this clearing there stood an old shack.

The shack was just that, a shack. The walls were made from old rotten boards. The roof was made of rusted tin. The door was nothing more than an old, tattered plastic tarp. Empty whiskey bottles hung from trees. An old iron barrel sat in front of the door, the barrel glowed red hot. Bones littered the area in front of the shack. Gathering our courage Robin and I drew nearer to the shack, then we caught sight of something that made our blood run cold. Hanging from one of the trees was the body of the dog. A small lap dog. The dog's fur was matted with blood. Its eyes had been cut out of its head and two nails had been driven into its eyes. A pink collar, with the name “Sofia” had been nailed to the tree.

Lily and I shuttered. We knew the dog, the dog belonged to a friend of ours. Her name was Linda Perry, Sofia was Linda's best friend and she treated the dog like a princess. She was always bathing her, cuddling her and just generally spoiling her. Sofia had gone missing a week or so ago. Linda had been heart broken. She often broke down crying when she ever saw another dog that looked like Sofia.

“That Sofia.” I said taking a deep breath.
“What the fuck?” I remember Robin saying as she peered toward the butchered remains of the once beloved house pet. “Whoever did that was a monster.” She added.

I nodded my head in agreement. Then because we were young and foolish we crept inside the shack. By the light of the lantern we saw things chilled us to the bone. An old card table, savaged from the town's dump, sat in the middle of the shack. An old Mason Jar sat in the middle, the mason jar was filled with blood, dark, crimson blood. Bones lay scattered about on the table. Homemade knives lay scattered about. The whole place reeked of death. Turning away from Robin I vomited on the floor. I was all too much.

As I tried to recover, I noticed in the corner of the room a bed. Or what appeared to be a bed. The gray woolen blanket was crusted with dirt and sweat. Beside the bed was an old plastic bucket that smelled like piss. Beside the bucket was what appeared to be a stone altar. Resting at the foot of the altar was another butchered animal. A morning dove if I remember correctly. It was all too much and I felt myself about to vomit again when Robin reached over and took me by the arm. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Lily!” She shouted. “We gotta get out of here. NOW!” She said as she pointed toward the open space she had I had just come through. “I heard something in the woods.” And with that she and I took off running. We ran like our lives depended on how fast we could reach the safety of her house. We did not stop to look back. And once we reached her house we locked the doors, made sure all the doors were locked and we vowed never to speak of what we saw there again.