Benton Academy has something of a checkered past. And that checkered past has given rise to a number of ghosts that are supposed to haunt its hall. One such ghost is the ghost of Greaser who is rumored to haunt the second floor of the school. His name has been lost to the flow of time, and only bits and pieces of his story have come down through the ages. I think this is the first complete telling of the legend. As the story this story has a beginning, a middle and an ending.

So I was thirty minutes into my one hour shift of the kissing booth. And so far I had handed out no kisses. I thought the whole thing was a bust like the rest of the fair. I mean, when you think about it, it was nothing more than a thrown together event. Thirty minutes in and the cake-walk had run out of cake, the bobbing for apple's thing had run out of apples. And only the food booths seemed to be thriving, I guess when you consider the quality of the cafeteria food. Okay let me tell you about the cafeteria food, most of the time it was decent.

Every neighborhood in America has at least one house that local legend claims to be haunted by a ghost or a demon. Every town, very village, from one coast to the other has at least one. And would you know, I happen to live in the most famous house in Benton, the famous “Sterling House''. Now, if you were standing on the street, the house would look like any other house on the block. It's a creole style cottage with a wrap around the front porch.  The front yard has a big, old oak tree in it.

What happened when Linda left me? I don't know. I remember taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I knew I was alone and I was facing a hostile crowd. The minutes turned to hours and slowly I started to sweat. The girl's running the thing had no remorse or empathy. I was treated like a number. One by one the girls in charge dressed us down, most boys shrugged it off. Most of them had been drafted into wearing a frilly gown and three inch heels. And once they completed their walk across the stage, many left.

History of Benton: A town of Culture, the First World War and the Rise of the Ku Klux Klan (1910 - 1920

when you live in a small town, you have to be creative when it comes to having fun. I was never really into football, but I do attend all the home football games at my high school. I really don't watch the game, I wander around the bleachers and around the grounds visiting with friends and chatting with people who might be from out of town. If there are no home games, then nine out of ten times I'll pester my sister or Heather to drive me out to the skating rink located just off Highway 16 three miles from town.

There is something special about sharing a meal with somebody. When you share a common meal with somebody a bond is formed. And existing bonds become stronger. It's that reason that when me and my friends gather out in the woods, I always have us share a simple meal. Most of the time it's a snack, like somebody would bake cookies or something. Other times we'll go the whole hog and have a little cook-out in the woods. If we have a cookout, you know then there's going to at least three or four good stories told that night.

I took a deep breath and tossed myself down upon my bed and rolled over onto my back. As far as I was concerned, my plans for the weekend had been smashed like an egg being dropped down on the ground. Sheets of rain started to pelt my bedroom window pane. It was one of those late summer downpours that are all too common in my region. It was not only rain, but lightning and thunder. Every so often a loud boom would echo across the sky, causing the house to shake. 

Introduction by the Author: This is the second chapter of “Genesis of a Cosplayer”. Again I would like to express my most profound thanks to two well known Mississippian authors. The First one being William A. Percy who wrote Lanterns on the Levee. The second one is William W. Morris who wrote North Toward Home. You took me from beyond the realm of fiction and planted me firmly in the coffee colored soil of my native land. This chapter continues the story started in chapter one. Again writing this story took a lot of effort.

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.

History of Benton: Nova Benton ( 1890 – 1910)

I took a deep breath as I peered toward Heather who was reclining in an old fashion chair. I had been invited to appear on the Heather Ford Show on a whim. I mean, I had been a fan of the show for two and a half years. It was the bread and butter of our local PBS station. And I guess it was only a matter of time before I was invited on, I mean, not to blow my own whistle, but I was something of a local celebrity in Benton.

History of Benton: Civil War (1861 – 1865)

On January 9, 1862 Mississippi seceded from the United States. Mississippi then joined her sister southern states in forming the Confederate States of America. Late that same year on April 13, 1862 Confederate forces stationed around Charleston Harbor opened fire on Fort Sumter, the bombardment lasted only a day, but resulted in the surrendering of the fort to Confederate forces.

History of Benton: The first settlements and the founding of Hannah's Landing. (1820 - 1827)

Fifteen minutes remained in my shift. Cerridwen had already changed and was standing by the booth. The petite raven haired girl had changed into a cute two piece bikini that really showed her curves of her body. Right now she was modeling the swimsuit for the gathered crowd. Her mother Pandora was standing by her side, looking as proud as a peacock Pandora was the newest member of that small business owners that formed the bedrock of Benton. And right now she was chatting up the locals, I guess having your daughter volunteer for the town's dunking booth was good for the public image.

I took a deep breath as I folded my skirt around my bottom and eased it down upon the hard wooden surface of the chair. I winced as my bottom came into contact with the hard wooden chair. My rear was still sore from last night's spanking. Slowly I released my breath. I was here now, in the heart of downtown Benton. It was Halloween and the whole town seemed to have been crowded into the two square mile area that made up Downtown Proper.

Mom and I returned from our shopping expedition around one in the afternoon. Mom quickly decided that tonight's dinner would be tenderized beef steak, smothered in homemade brown gravy and home style mashed potatoes. And of course, me being a girl now, I was required to help. Mom had become quite keen on teaching me to cook and that included helping with every meal.

I found myself standing in the middle of a field or maybe it was a meadow. I could hear the babbling of a nearby brook. The soothing sound of water running over stones put me at ease. The buzzing of big fat bumble bees from one flower to another added its own charm. The sky was a deep blue color. A very peaceful blue. The whole area was surrounded by trees, huge fir and pine trees that reached high into the sky. Past the line of trees, I could clearly see snow capped mountains and beyond that I felt there must have been tiny little settlements.

My eyes followed Jamie as she vanished into the crowd. And speaking of the crowd, the crowd just lingered around the dunking booth. If a person did not want to buy three balls for five dollars, they could just walk up and push the button for ten dollars. Like Jamie she had dropped ten dollars to drop me in freezing cold water, the little brat also managed to sneak in another push of the button when nobody was looking.

Two miles East of town one would find an open field. A broken stone wall divides the field in half, in front of the stone wall, there is a creek. The field is haunted, haunted by the souls of some six hundred Confederate dead and some eight hundred Federal dead. There are a number of rumors connected with the field, some report hearing the roar of musketry echoing across the field early in the morning.

In a clearing eight miles north of Benton there stands an old wooden railway depot. It's a simple white wooden building with a rusty tin roof. It stands next to another wooden building that was once the town's post office and beside that another building that was once the town's trading post. Beside the depot there's an old steam locomotive resting in an old section of line. A quiet section of road runs pass these three buildings before crossing the mainline of the “Yazoo & Mississippi Valley Railroad” that runs straight to Benton.

When my niece Madeline came to me, and asked me to share with her any paranormal or supernatural encounter I might have. I will freely admit at first I was hesitant, but then I decided to go ahead and share one my most frightening encounters. First allow me to introduce myself to you, the general reader. My name is Percival Alexandra Bell, or Percy for short. I'm an Episcopal Priest and current rector of St. Mary's Episcopal Church here in Benton. I was the second son of John William Bell and Joanna Maria Bell.

This next story is a bit personal for me. It's one I'm still having trouble coming to terms with. One one hand, it could have been a trick of the mind. I was on some pretty powerful painkillers at the time. My life too it seemed had fallen apart, like a piece of priceless china that had been dropped on the floor. The tiny porcelain shards scattered to the four winds. I guess I should start at the beginning of the story.

I was something of a tomboy growing up. And I often spent my summers here in Benton, helping my grandfather the late Albert John Brewer around the family farm when I could escape the attention of my grandmother Sabbath Mari Brewer who was a Croft before she married my grandfather in a simple “Low Church” service down at St. Mary's Episcopal Church, the towns only Episcopal Church and the cradle of bourgeoisie of the Benton.