One of the most enduring urban legends of Benton is that of a supposed tree that is supposed to feed unwary travelers who stray too near to its trunk. The location of the tree is supposed to be a meadow that is located deep within the marsh that surrounds the north side of Benton. Now, though many consider it nothing more than a silly urban legend, something of an old wives' tale, something to keep curious children from exploring the mashes.

Now, like most children who grew up in the shadow of the marshes, I learned of this fabled man eating tree from older cousins, and wayward uncles who loved to tell spooky stories after one to many drinks. Now, the story I'm going to tell you is a little graphic. Those marshes are dangerous, and hopefully after I've shared my tale with you guys, you'll think twice before venturing into them.

I was twelve going on thirteen when I decided to venture into the marshes to see if the rumors of the supposed man eating tree were true. Now according to legend, the genesis of the tree lies in the moral panic that was coined 'The Satanic Panic' of the early eighties. Back in the early eighties a family called Hammers moved into town, the Hammers were a strange lot, and something of a mystery, most of their children were homeschooled. Now this was before my time, but according to the stories that were told to me around cackling campfires and around flickering candles, strange things started happening when the Hammers moved into town.

Pets would go missing, and often they would be found skinned and gutted and often nailed to trees, cats seemed to be the favorite of whoever was doing it. And while nobody could prove it, and while the local police department seemed almost powerless to stop them, the Yazoo County sheriff's department responded by increasing patrols in the more rural sections of the county. But nothing came from it. And while nobody could outright prove it, most blamed the Hammers family for the attacks, but nobody could pin the attacks directly on them.

Anyway according to legend, the Hammers family gathered together one night when the moon was full. The father of the family dressed in a dark purple  robe wearing a white wooden mask dug a whole and in this hole planted a willow seedling. Once the seedling was in this hole they carefully placed a newborn babe into the hole along with the seedling. Then they also placed three or four kittens. The whole family then performed a Black Mass and at the height of the mass they shovel loads of dirt around the seedling, burying the newborn babe and the kittens alive. As the tree grew from seedling to sprout and as its roots developed it began to feed on the remains of the babe and the kittens.

The seedling also was supposed to have absorbed some of the dark magic from the Black Mass performed around it and the soul of the newborn babe was fused to the tree. Thus the two became one and since it fed on the rotten remains of the kittens, it was said to have developed a taste for flesh. The Hammers family was supposed to have returned each month on the night of the full moon to once more perform the Black Mass and offer another living offering to the tree. Whom they worshiped as a living, breathing god.

Now, the Hammers family have long since vanished. The people of Benton kind of ran them out of town around two thousand four. Long before I decided to explore the marsh. Now before the town finally ran them out they were supposed to have trained a number of acolytes. The witch who lived in the marsh was supposed to have been such a follower of the Hammers Family and their strange and twisted beliefs. And a year before my friend Lily and I had crept into the march and found out that such a 'Witch' if you want to call her that did indeed live in the marsh. So that made me wonder if the legend of the 'Man Eating Tree' was also true.

It anyway it was in the autumn of the year, a few days passed the autumn equinox when I left my home, bundle up in a pair of faded blue jeans, boots, and faded pink hoodie. My old Girlscout backpack was firmly strapped to my shoulders, the backpack held a first-aid kit, a few bottles of water, some salty snacks. And of course a change of clothing and a few plastic grocery shopping bags. In the south we've found numerous usages for plastic grocery shopping bags, we use them to haul our lunch around, we use them to line the waste cans in our bathroom and bedroom, and last but not least we use them to store dirty clothing in till we can wash and dry them. And the last most vital piece of equipment is a battery powered lantern.

As expected, after our last adventure, Lily, my best friend, declined my invitation to join me on this little adventure. Looking back, I think she made the right choice. Anyway lets get on with the story.

I took a deep breath as I pushed through the jungle of cattails and water reeds and splashed through pools of stagnant water. The night air was hot and humid and swarms of mosquitoes buzzed around me. The very air I breathed was a terrible miasma, the stench of rotting vegetables, waterlogged wood, and sour mud filled the hair. Along with the putrid smell of dead fish.

Through this nightmarish landscape I traveled. I'm not exaggerating when I say danger was around me, from malaria caring mosquitoes flying around me, and the venomous water snakes that call the marsh home. I'm not sure what kept me going as I splashed through the horrible smelling water, and braved the perils of the swamp. But soon I came to this little clearing.

In the center of this clearing there stood an old willow tree. Its branches hung low to the ground, a faint wind caused the long, drooping branches to sway back and forth. For a moment I thought it was just another willow tree, after all willow trees are a dime a dozen here in the lowlands. The bank of Wilson's Creek is lined with willows after all. But there was something different about this tree, this tree almost seemed sentient. Almost as if it was alive. Streams of silver moonlight broke through the thin, narrow branches that seemed almost alive.

At that moment, I thought about turning around and walking off. But I still curse my curiosity to this day because something within me wanted to inch toward that tree. And so I did, I started to move toward the tree, as I moved through the tall grass that surrounded the tree I noticed the skeleton remains of dozens and dozens of woodland creatures. Bones, bleached by the elements, seemed to lay scattered around the tree. You know that should have been a warning for me, a red flag, a sign that something was off. Instead my mind just blanked out.

Then it happened. Those lovely little branches soon took on a life of their own. Those thin tendrils wrapped themselves around my legs and then around my arms. I was then caught, caught like a rabbit in a hunter's snare. It was at that moment, I came to my senses. Just as I was coming to my senses though something happened, the bark on the willow tree started to transform. A ghastly humanoid face appeared in the trunk of the tree. The eyes of the face glowed red, and its mouth, its mouth was open and much to my horror it seemed what appeared to be rows of pearly white teeth within its open maw.

I screamed and something in me snapped, a sense of doom and gloom started to creep up my shoulders. At that moment I thought all was lost. At that moment, the tree would draw me into a void. But then, something happened, I found an untapped source of strength that had been hidden away in my tiny, frail frame. With this newfound strength I snapped the branches that held me in place. My arms and hands free, I was allowed a moment to reach into the pocket of my jeans, and pull from the confines of my pocket, my trusty girl scout pocket knife.
I flipped the blade of my knife open and started to hack at the vines that held fast to my legs. As I hacked at the vines, the face on the tree twisted, and at last I had cut from my legs the shackles of the willow branches. It responded by sending out its other branches... Those low hanging branches started to surround me, and in a fit of rage, I started to hack at them, each time I managed to cut one from the branch, it wiggled on the ground, like a worm.

At last after a few moments of desperate melee the tree started to withdraw its branches. I saw my chance to escape and I took it, I ran, like the wind through the marsh, puddles of brackish water splashed on the legs of my jeans, the horns of thorn bushes cut at my exposed skin, I stumbled once or twice, but I dared not to look back, through the cattails I ran till at last I felt my feet touching pavement again.

Once I was safe on the street, I turned around and faced the marsh. And for a moment I started to wonder if what I'd seen had really happened. And who would believe me? After all, who's going to believe a twelve year old girl who broke curfew? And so I decided to keep what I saw a secret until I learned my friend Madeline was collecting ghost stories for her book. And well, I decided now would be the best time to share with the world what I saw that night. I believe the person who wrote 'The Melodies of the Heart' an popular Light Novel/Manga Series. Was inspired by this fabled 'Man Eating' tree. As one of the stories featured it.

Anyway, I don't expect you guys to believe me, and I won't be surprised if you don't believe me. But as far as I know that tree is still in that marsh. Still waiting for his next meal. If you're brave you can try to find it. The marsh changes with the seasons, paths open and close. But sometimes it tells me that if you want to find the tree, the tree will guide you through the marsh. How will it guide you? Its magic will act as a compass and direct your soul to it. Yes, I believe the dark magic cast by that Black Mass was that powerful.