The following story was told to me by my friend Lana Tiffany Edwards, Lana Edward's grandfather, Elijah Edwards was Benton's undertaker for decades before he passed away from old age. He was also an avid collector of ghost stories. And one of those stories he loved to tell all those who would listen was about a farmer who was expecting his first child, when his child was born he was overjoyed to find out that his exhausted wife had given birth two twin boys. But his joy quickly turned to horror and shame as he noticed that the twins were conjoined. Ashamed, the farmer hid them away, and kept them locked up in the loft in his barn.

Now as the twin's grew older it became clear to the farmer and his wife that one of them was good and the other was pure evil. The two often fought and bickered among each other. The good twin, often taking the blunt of the punishment from the evil twin who tormented him from dawn to dust and from spring to winter. The evil one, it seemed to relish the pain he brought to his twin and to his mother and father. And would often try to spat on them and even bite them if they came too close while he quarreled with his other half.

Then when both were about six years old, the good twin fell ill from a mysterious malady. A few days later the evil twin himself came down sick and a week later both were dead. Now the farmer was both grief stricken and relieved at the passing. He was  heartbroken for the loss of his good son, and yet oddly relieved that the evil son would no longer haunt him. In his grief he asked the town's undertaker Lucas Edward, who happens to be Lana's grandfather's father to saw the two apart. He wanted his good son to be given a proper christian burial and laid to rest in the town's cemetery and for his evil son to be hidden away in a long forgotten place. And so Lucas Edward did as the farmer wished.

But he had to get drunk to do it, once he was liquored up, he started to saw the two in half, but there was a mix up, the evil twin was the one who was given the christian burial and buried in the the towns cemetery and the good twin was buried at the end of a dead end country road called Spinners Lane. It was here hidden among the thorn bushes, cedar trees, pine trees,and moss trees that a shallow earthen grave was dug and the good twin, wrapped in an old gray army woolen blanket and bound in twin, was laid to rest. No prayers were said as the clumps of earth were shoved in on top of him and on top of the dirt, wash rocks the size of a man's head were placed. No cross, stone, or plague marked the spot. And the heartless farmer considered the matter to be tended too and decided to move on with the rest of his life.

But this terrible mistake would soon come back to haunt the good townspeople of Benton, because a few nights after the boy had discharged their lone traveler, traveling down Spinners Lane reported the sound of a baby crying. It was a terrible sound, a high pitch whine that filled the air and seemed to echo loudly into the hot, humid, night air. Nobody could explain the sound, but since it sounded like the cries a baby makes, people started to call the road Cry Baby Lane and the name stuck like glue.

There is more to the story, now one night several years ago, before I came to live here in Benton with my older sister and her wife. The Edward's were hosting a family reunion at the old home Edward home place. It was a big event that kicked off on Friday afternoon and planned to last all weekend concluding with the whole Edward's clan going to Mass at St. Mary's Episcopal Church that Sunday Morning a large fried chicken lunch was to follow Mass. Now as the sun was starting to set, the whole family gathered on the front porch and started to tell ghost stories.

Now some of those stories I've included here in this collection. Others I hope I can include in future collections. If I'm lucky enough to hear them.

Lana who had just returned from a wilderness girl scout retreat had own stories to tell. She was about twelve at the time, she is seventeen now so this must have been a good five years ago. Anyway as the hours ticked on, more and more tales of the supernatural were shared.

Till at last, one of the grownups mentioned the story of how Cry Baby Lane got its name. And so old Elijah who was now one sheet to the wind started to tell the store. Now instead of frighting the gathered collection of tweens and teens as Elijah had oped, the story only piqued their curiosity, for many this was the first time they had heard the story, and with the fable Cry Baby Lane being only two miles away, many decided to mount their bikes and start off an midnight expedition to Cry Baby Lane to see if they too hear the wailing of the lost and forgotten child.

Lana and her many cousins arrived in the rural lane an hour after midnight. There was no moon that night and since it was late in the summer around September, the leaves on the trees had started to fall and the first taste of autumn was on the breath of the cold wind that blew across the farmers field. Now ghosts do not appear on command them to appear and at first the group was disappointed that the ghost did not appear.

And so the group was forced to settle into an uneasy wait. As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the air started to build. And soon the group started to get jumpy, then after an hour of waiting, the group was getting ready to call it quits and return home and call the whole thing a bust. But then something happen. A faint crying sound was heard from deep in the forest that surrounded the dirt and gravel road. The sound was so faint that the gathered group had to strain their ears to hear it. At first, but as the seconds melted away into minutes the sound grew louder, and louder and louder and soon it seemed their ear drums would bust wide open as the wailing grew louder and louder.

At first the group of teens thought that one of their cousins had strayed away from the group and was now hiding out in the forest and was the one making the noise, or so they all had a good laugh at themselves, but when they looked around the first thing they noticed was nobody was missing. It was then their laughter turned to tears and fears. The wailing seemed to get louder and louder with each passing second. Soon the frightened teenagers were jumping on their bikes and speeding away, dust and gravel flying behind them in their wake.

Now there are many areas of Benton I've never explored before. And Lana's story had succeeded in rousing my curiosity, so one night a few weekends ago I too decided to pay “Cry Baby Lane” a visit. Now at the time our new Chief of Police had decided that there were way too many teenagers running the street after dark, so a curfew had been mandated. The curfew had kind of damped the late night storytelling sessions around a roaring campfire that me and my friends had been enjoying. So with that in mind, I decided to visit “Cry Baby Lane” around dust. Not quite nightfall, but close enough I'd hoped. After all, I love legend tripping as much as the next girl. But I'm not going to run the risk of getting a foul with the law over it.

Anyway I parked my car at the beginning of “Cry Baby Lane” Once the car was in park, I pushed open the door and started walking down the rural road. As I walked the wind started to rise and blow through the gaps of the trees, and the trees started to sway, dark gray storm clouds rolled in and blocked out the sun and I could feel the temperature starting to drop. I was shivering when I reached the end of the lane. I quickly turned around and started to walk slowly toward my car when I heard it.

A soft crying sound started to rise from the surrounding woods. At first I thought it was just the winds starting to blow through the pines and willows. But then the crying became louder, and louder, and louder and louder still with each passing second. I thought my head was going to split open. I started to sprint toward my car and then something told me to look behind me and I did.

The moment I looked behind me was the moment I felt my blood turn to ice, I felt those tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Of all the supernatural encounters I might have had, and I might have shared with you, from encountering Jenny Green Teeth in an abounded, overgrown fishing pond, to a phantom train that drags you to hell, to the murdered spirit of a teenage boy. And finally that one odd ball encounter with a ghost nurse, none of those could have ever prepared me for what I saw standing no more than three or maybe four feet behind me.

Standing in the middle of the dirt road, wrapped in a dirty gray blanket was what appeared to a child who appeared to be around six or maybe seven years old. Black blood oozed from his eye sockets and half of the blanket was soaked in what I'm going to assume was blood. Then the child threw back its head and started to scream and its scream seemed to echo and fill my ears, it pounded my ear drums and a foment I thought they were going to bust.

In a panic, and stricken by fear, I jumped into the driver's seat of the car, cranked the car and sped away. I never looked back. I want to say that I drove straight home, but in truth I drove down a local dairy bar called “Chuck's Choice Burgers”, whose tagline was “Home to the world famous Chuck Burger”. Once there I ordered the biggest hamburger they had on the menu, with the biggest basket of steak fries they offered and their biggest coke and I did my best to process what I saw. And that is my story.