Silent Riddle
Neighborhood kids always avoid that tree. “It’s bumpy and ugly and leaks maroon sap. All the bumps are on one side so it looks like it’ll fall over on top of us,” they chorused in fear.
But the tree was perfectly fine – just hungry and wanting to grow in its girth. Usually, it was all right with rainfall and the nutrients of the earth and sometimes, even a little fertilizer. But occasionally, it was absolutely starved and that’s when the mayhem started.
It was a tall tree with long crooked branches capable of reaching across the street where the children played. However, the gnarled tree was quite willing to wait until just one child walked by alone, lost in his own world. Snatching the unsuspecting child, the limbs would carry him back to his big knothole in the trunk which would open wide and swallow the child with a sucking sound that resonated in the air.
“What is that slurping sound?” the neighbors asked each other. Somehow, they never connected the noise to the missing children. It was a mystery which neither they nor the police were able to solve. “It must be a sexual predator snatching the children,” they surmised, as they all peeked out their windows to try to catch the perpetrator.
The mystery was never solved until one day the tree caught a bad cold. “Achoo,” it sneezed, expelling little bodies all over the sidewalk.
If only the townspeople could have read the tree’s silent riddle before it was too late!
The Tree in the Lot
The kids stay away from the tree
Found in the empty lot
They roam around both wild and free
But there they will go not
The stories are frightening tales
Filled with horror and moaning wails
The stories are
The stories are
Tales of lynchings and sharpened nails
The kids stay away from the tree
An oak tall in the sun
Leafy branches stretch 'til eyes don't see
To horrors not undone
The fear it holds affects them all
Causing trembling and babies' squalls
The fear it holds
The fear it holds
Leads people joined as one to fall
The kids stay away from the tree
A deathtrap speaks its fear
The culture there has ceased to be
Though people feel it's near
The horrors past come close right now
Though no one is sure just quite how
The horrors past
The horrors past
Come closer than they should allow
#tree #challenge #horror #trijanrefrain #history
Witch Tree
The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree.
The one with time grown knots,
With twisted, and beaten limbs.
The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree,
At the end of the street,
In the weed run grass.
The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree.
Thats where she died,
Thats where the witch still hangs.
Willow tree
The neighborhood kids always, avoid that tree
Tommy Bruns was the kid who feared nothing, he chewed tobacco and he got his first sticker tattoo at the age of five, he could recite all the swear words in alphabetical order, he wore his hair in Mohawk died with green tips, he rode his bicycle on Mr. Davidson grass , he stole candy from the candy store on Vienna blvd , needless to say Tommy was Bad A , he didn't follow the rules he made his own rules. all the little kids that lived on Main Street followed him. Kids grew up, people moved away, houses were torn down, buildings were erected, prosperity and riches filled the main street, but the thing that never changed was the tree it stands in between alley grow bigger, the neighborhood kids were taught to never touch that tree. Tommy saw no point in following a dumb rule about a tree, what was wrong with this tree the leaves looked like velvet a soft emerald color coated the leaves, the bark was different it was a bloody brown it had imprints of little hands maybe hands of a baby but the tree was simply beautiful , how dangerous could such a beautiful tree be on it adorned the leaves
fresh pulpy fruit it was alluring and produced an intoxicating scent, Tommy reached up to caress the fruit in his hand , his mouth dripped with saliva , but suddenly his face went white, his eyes went dark, his mouth slurred his words, the tree talks help
the tree is choking me -I can't breathe, the tree became blackened with leopard spots and Tommy died . The neighborhood kids backed away from the tree and left Tommy there. What was it that the tree told Tommy, The winds whispered the story of Tommy, the tree held his soul, the neighborhood kids come every Sunday and leave flowers by the tree and pay Tommy favorite song Don't Panic by cold play
and the kids clasp their hands together and sway to
Bones sinking like stones
All that we've fought for
Homes, places we've grown
All of us are done for
We live in a beautiful world
Yeah we do
Yeah we do
We live in a beautiful world
Tommy died as result of his desire to please the crowd, that worshiped him on a throne of fear, Tommy just wanted to be adorned , for he fell in love with the tree disposition comforting and alluring and hauntingly beautiful
for Tommy was the tree that no one dared touched
because he was always told he was unlovable
written off
by society
here lies tommy and the tree
that dared to touch him
Sour tree
neighborhood kids always avoid
that tree
because granny of that house care for the tree
when we try to reach that tree
she ran behind with
her wandering stick
to beat
like birds flown away by a dart in grainy
field
we are also in need to flee
neighborhood kids
always avoid that tree
because of mangoes counted by cruel granny of
thee
but..
how much beautiful she?
when unripe mangoes get ripe
she distribute them among us to
see.
do she teach us
we should have our own
by planting more
mango trees
to get our temptation relieved.
Estate for sale
It's a beautiful street with beautiful homes built back in the 1800's a time when superstitions were real and humans were much more innocent than they are now.
At the end of the street is an empty lot where a house once stood, and a beautiful white oak tree that's so big now a man could make a door through it.
However every one avoids that lot.
The local story is that the tree will take your soul! It was there back when they developed the street and the Natives told the workers not to disturb that tree, the workers brushed them off and continued to work.
Men started disappearing when the tree was to be cut down.
The developer decided to leave the tree and build the house there anyway.
A family moved in with two small children
Alec and Alexi, a boy and girl.
The children seemed drawn to the tree, Alec was always climbing in it's branches, and Alexi was always seen playing with her dolls at the foot of the tree. It was almost as if the tree "loved" the children! When the parents called them in for dinner, the tree would leak a water like sap from its branches and leaves.
As if it were saying "no don't go!".
The neighbors thought the children were strange and started making fun of them through their fence. Then they started throwing rocks. Children can be so cruel and not realize the damage they do until it's too late.
A rock hit Alexi in just the right spot and killed her instantly. Alec screamed and their parents came and rushed Alexi to the hospital but it was too late. When Alexi was hit she was so close to the tree that she bled all over it, everyone paid little attention to that they also didn't notice the little face in the bark of the tree.
After the funeral service, everyone was visiting the house to pay respects, some noticed Alec playing and talking to the oak tree out front.
His mother brushed it off as boys do boy things like climbing trees.
But Alec new that his sister was in the tree somehow! He tried to tell his parents once and they thought he was having a mental breakdown so he thought it best to say nothing after that.
One day the neighbor children came and were teasing Alec about talking and playing around the tree, all of a sudden they all were pelted with acorns! Ouch!
Alec grew into a fine attorney and took great care of his parents and their estate. AND...
The neighborhood kids, ALWAYS, avoid that tree.
The Trouble With Neighbors
The neighborhood kids always avoid that tree.
Clearly, our new neighbors did not get the memo. The two kids, a boy who looks about twelve, and a girl who looks seven, are racing around it, laughing in glee. I watch them incredulously for a few moments through the window, before putting my shoes on and going outside.
I have a better view of them now, and it is obvious that the girl is trying to climb the tree. It really is an excellent tree for climbing, which is unfortunate. This same quality is why there's a tiny grave at our local ceremony, bearing the name of a boy who will never grow older than five. We were friends when I was much younger, before he fell off the tree and broke his neck. I didn't see it, luckily, but it was a real shock for our town. Even ten years later, fearful parents hurry their children past the tree, glancing back and glaring darkly. The tree is considered bad luck. Even the children know of the tragedy that occurred here, which is why they avoid it.
Not our new neighbors, though. The clueless children look so happy near that tree. It's right on their property, the same place that my old dead friend lived. His parents moved away shortly after his death. An elderly couple bought the house after them, but they sold it to move to Florida.
My contemplations are interrupted by a joyous greeting.
"Hi!" The boy shouts, unafraid of greeting a girl much older than him.
"Hi! I'm Mara, I'm your neighbor! I live right next to you!" I respond.
"Wow, you're really old!" The girl says, and I smile.
"Well, I am sixteen," I say.
"I'm Jake, and I'm twelve!" The boy shouts, and I congratulate myself inwardly for guessing his age so accurately.
"I'm Paige, and I'm six," the girl says, not to be outdone by her brother.
"Nice to meet you guys. What are you doing?" I ask, looking towards the tree.
"We're going to climb it!" Paige announces, jumping a bit in excitement.
"Oh, um, well, you see... Um, climbing trees is illegal here. You'll, um, get arrested by the police, it's weird," I say.
It's not true at all, climbing trees is perfectly legal here. It's jut that nobody really does it, not since the accident ten years ago. Besides, Paige is about the age of my long-dead friend, and she would probably get horribly injured, or worse, if something went wrong in her tree-climbing endeavors. The children look suitably disappointed, but they leave the tree alone. I feel like I have prevented a catastrophe, and go back inside feeling a little happier.
40 years later
P.S. 67 elementary school was set in the middle of what used to be a corn field. It was your typical non descript elementary school with huge play ground in the back. Next to it, the park district purchased the land and turned it into a park. So the kids could play on the equipment in back of the school or they could go to the park. But the way the land was, there was a big hill at the edge of the park.
At the edge of a park was an old tree, had to be at least a hundred years old, when I was a kid. But back then, it was where they found Annie Hubbard. She was found mutilated under that tree. A couple walking their dog, found her on an early Sunday morning. She was missing three days before when she was out looking for acorns for her 6th grade science fair project. Her parents reported her missing by 7pm and the police were out searching for her.
Tommy Hubbard, who we hung around with, wasn't the same after they found his sister.
"Come on Tommy let's go play on the hill." We asked. He always turned us down. We didn't know till later of course, when we got older and figured out what happened. Our parents kept that stuff from us, not like now, where every kid has the news before their parents do.
The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree. Not because of anything that happened
recently. But because a sweet little girl, looking for acorns, was murdered by a serial killer.
40 years later, they still avoid it.
Avoid That Tree
The neighborhood kids,
always,
avoid that tree.
The one sitting lonely on the hill
In front of the cemetery
They say at night
The dead arises from their slumber.
And sit. Around. That. Tree.
Telling stories of their lives
From times long past
The neighbor kids
always,
avoid that tree.
The one whose leaves never grow
No matter the season
Its branches bare of any fruit
As if condemned by God
The neighbor kids,
always,
avoid that tree.
The one where the dead lives
And the living dies
The neighbor kids,
always,
avoid that tree.
The crows sit on its branches
Never making a sound
Watching quietly
All of those who foolishly
Approach. That. Tree.
That Tree
The neighborhood kids always avoid that tree. For that tree has a bark that is as bad as its bite. Because it’s bark IS its bite.
Picture this:
July 2012 AD, hell.
The devil – Sate-man, as he likes to be called, to keep up with the times – is on the warpath. Hell is hot on any given day, but on this particular day in July, it’s extra hot, with zero chance of rain or even wind. Sate-man would just go above ground, but he’s got paperwork – it’s always the gotdamn paperwork, isn’t it?! – to sign so the demons can go about their business.
Fuckin’ ingrates, he thinks, can’t do a damn thing – and I mean that literally, a damn thing, hah! – without supervision. I tell fuckin’ Laziness to attach himself to Martha like red on Trump and Laziness says he needs an affidavit! An affidavit?! What the fuck?! What the hell – hell! - is this world coming to when a demon can’t even do its damn – damn, hah! – job without filing a form first?! Sheez!
So, Sate-man is slaving away under a pile of paperwork, when he soon feels parched. He rings for his butler, Alfredthazar, who enters and asks what his master would like. Sate-man says he needs some water – a lot of water – and he needs it NOW. Alfredthazar nods and says the demon-dogs have just returned with a few buckets of such liquid; would his wickedness like them to bring him some? Sate-man nods and Alfredthazar is off. Sate-man goes back to work.
An hour later, Sate-man realizes he hasn’t received his water. He rings for Alfredthazar, who enters and stands quietly.
“Do I really have to ask the question, old man? Where the fuck is my water? What happened to Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot?”
Alfredthazar clears his throat. “I’m s-sorry, your eminence. The dogs got detained and, well…”
“And?”
“They ended up drinking the water and had to go fetch more.” Alfredthazar was suddenly inordinately interested in the intricacies of the design on Sate-man’s floor, as he studied them intently.
“They WHAT?!”
“I…I…I’m sorry.” Alfredthazar was still scanning the floor, unable to look Sate-man in the face. “They ran into a cat and well…” he let the words trail off and prepared for a thrashing.
“They ran into a fucking CAT?! Send them in here as soon as they return and they better have the gotdamn water!”
“Yes, sir.” Alfredthazar moved faster than Sate-man thought possible for someone of his age and all was quiet again.
Fifteen minutes later, Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot came padding in. Sans water.
Irate, Sate-man started yelling at the trio, who cowered under his wrath. The leader, Tripoly, tried to interject with whining and intermittent growling, but Sate-man was not to be calmed. He continued ranting and raving and telling the poor canines what half-assed pooches they were. Demon dogs, indeed. “More like pussies!” he yelled.
Tantrum done, Sate-man handed down his verdict. “The three of you are now banned to a tree above-ground, inside of which you shall live for 1000 years.”
Cerebruston tried running, but Sate-man flicked his wrist and the dog was frozen in place. He continued, “You will be able to see the outside world, but no more interacting with it. No more pats on the head, no more treats, no more smiles flung in your direction.” He glared at each of the dogs, who bowed their heads, tails between their legs. “You will, however, be able to bark – bark, hah! - at young passersby – adults will not be able to see or hear you, all the more torture for you! - and, should they touch the tree, you’ll bite them, causing them to die and immediately be sent here...You might as well benefit me somehow during your banishment.”
And with that, the trio was banished to that tree.
At first, the children didn’t know anything was different about the tree, but then one day, young Timmy Witmore and his cousin, Chauncey Landers, were playing under the tree, when they suddenly heard barking.
“Timmy! It sounds like it’s coming from the tree!” the five-year-old redhead said. Chauncey ran his hand over a branch, then suddenly yelped. His hand was red and bleeding and swelling up. They ran for Chauncey’s home and told his parents what happened. They rushed him to the ER, but it was too late. Shortly thereafter, the boy died. His parents just thought he sliced his hand on a bark and got infected and that the dog barking was a coincidence. But Timmy knew better. As children do, he told all his friends. Some didn’t believe him and they had to investigate for themselves. Upon hearing the barking, they’d run away, frightened.
And so, the neighborhood kids always avoid that tree.