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 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

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.

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. 

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 

     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. 

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.

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.

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.

There’s an old willow from my youth

That all the kids used to climb

And sometimes they’d fall

And sometimes they’d fly

And sometimes the days

They’d turn into nights

And sometimes my smiles

They’d turn into cries

Hidden with beautiful eyes

There’s an old willow from my youth

That all the lovers used as a tryst

And sometimes they’d kiss

And sometimes they’d miss

And sometimes the days

They’d turn into nights

And sometimes the scratches

They’d turn into slits

Hidden on beautiful wrists

There’s an old willow from my youth

That all the people would avoid

And sometimes they’d cry

And sometimes they’d point

And sometimes the days

They’d turn into nights

And sometimes my cries

They’d turn into smiles

No longer hidden in beautiful life

There’s an old willow from my youth

That no one used anymore

And sometimes they’d wonder

And sometimes they’d forget

And sometimes the days

They’d turn into nights

And sometimes the stars

They’d forget to shine

Hidden in beautiful night