After my father died, my mother had a stone house built in a nice quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of town. When my mother bought the land that she built our house on, there were not any other houses in the neighborhood. That whole area was covered with woods. No one knew about the history of the land but no one ever gave it much thought either. Anyway, after the house was built my mom, grandmother, a couple of cousins and myself all moved in. I was less than a year old when we moved there so that's the only home I remember.
As I grew up in the house, I started hearing my family members comparing strange events that had happened to them inside the house. One of my uncles said that he saw a transparent like figure walking out of his closed bedroom door. A female cousin of mine said she's experienced the exact same thing in the same bedroom that my uncle occupied. Unlike him, she tried to follow the figure. So, she got up and looked down the hall and the figure was gone. After those few sightings, they started complaining of hearing Indian drums coming from that same room even when it was unoccupied. Being a little kid, I ignored most of this stuff because it didn't make any sense. When I started sleeping by myself, I had the bedroom where one of the walls connected to that active bedroom.
One night at approximately 12:02 am I heard it... The Indian drums! At first I thought I was imagining it, or thought it was just the TV from another bedroom so I attempted to ignore it and tried to go back to sleep. The longer I tried to ignore the sound, the louder they seem to become. They finally became loud enough for me to hear the distinct rhythm of the drums. "Boom boom boom boom..." "Boom boom boom boom..." The drums got louder and louder and I was scared half to death. I was scared to get out of bed in case I saw something that I didn't want to see, but I was scared to stay in case "it" came in my room knowing that I was listening.
After burying myself under the covers struggling to breath from fright and lack of oxygen, something finally came to me... My grandmother and mother had always told me that there was nothing that prayer couldn't fix. So I started saying the "Our Father's Prayer." The deeper I got into the prayer, the lower the Indian drums became until they were almost non-existent. By the time I was uttering the word "Amen" the last of the Indian drums ceased at the same precise moment.
After my prayer was done there was peace at last. I felt as if something powerful but yet wonderful and protective was rocking me to sleep and at last I dosed off. When I woke up the next morning, I described my experience to my mother and had got a rude awakening. It just so happens, that everyone that has ever stayed with us at one point or another has heard the drums but tried to keep it from me, not wanting to scare me including my mom's stay in boyfriend at the time. He heard it his first night there and every night after that and so did my stepfather years after that. So it makes me wonder... Was that land an Indian burial ground? Or was it ancestors letting us know that they were still around?