The Natives Were Restless
Thursday, Sept. 11, 2003 9:05 pm
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The natives were restless.

Literally.

See, ever since I first came to visit Matt and Nik, they've talked about the Indians in the backyard. Ok, I know the politically correct term is Native American, but they call them Indians, so that's what they will be called here. I mean no disrespect, so I hope none is taken.

Anyway, these indians like to drum in the wee hours of the morning. Loudly. Have I mentioned that they are dead? Matt's backyard is apparently the site of an Indian burial ground. And the ghosts rise at night. A cliche? Yes. But in this case, its true.

For a long time these spirits have inhabited the dense wood behind the house. Matt looked up the area that we live in, and apparently this property is on the path that was taken when the settlers drove Chief Anawan and his tribe all the way down through Rehoboth, slaughtering them along the way. (I may have the details a bit fuzzy, because Matt told me the story a while ago and I can't ask him right now)

You can draw a line straight from start to finish on a map, and it passes right through here to Anawan Rock.

So, the long dead ghosties awaken at night to drum and party. I have never heard the drumming, but I have seen the partying.

We went outside once, at night, and you could just barely see the flickering of a fire and dancing figures. One of them wore a hat which I thought was an odd accessory and that we must have had it wrong, but Matt confirmed that he was the one most people saw.

Well, for the first time last night I heard the drumming. It started out loud. James and I were laying in bed at two in the morning and we both heard it. It went on for a bit and stopped.

James fell asleep. I tossed and turned for a while, then I became aware of this soft, low thrumming. At first I thought it was my own heart beat, but then it stopped.

It started up again a few moments later, a sort of humming, a vibration almost. It would rise and fall and I began to notice a pattern.

It was very distracting and a not just a little bit spooky.

Every once and a while I saw flickers of light through the curtains too. Very odd. (They weren't car lights, we live in a very rural area... not many cars go by during the witching hours to begin with, and when one does it is accompanied by the sound of a motor! These lights were soundless)

This went on until half past four in the morning. I could not get to sleep, so I lay there and listened.

It was a very strange experience.

Artwork © Jessica Galbreth