Silver Bullet54
In Winter of 2014, I took a trip to a cabin with 3 of my friends, Chuck, Andy, and Terri. We decided to go to Terri's own cabin high in the Appalachian mountains somewhere in Tennessee (I believe that's where it was.) She said it was a great place to see animals in their natural habitat. We already knew about the Melungeon (muh-lun-g-uhn) people of Portuguese descent. They weren't dangerous; just very rude. However, they were child's play compared to what happened. One morning, I woke up to a thumping sound. I thought it was snow, but when I looked out a window, there was no snow falling at all. The thumping got louder and I told the 3 to stop fooling around. Terri came into my room as pale as printer paper. "You hear that?" she asked. I nodded and said it was probably Chuck or Andy playing a prank. however, Chuck and Andy were still sleeping. We both looked at each other, then at the window, then back at each other. We quickly woke up the other 2 and told them to barricade the door. Andy obeyed, but Chuck didn't seem concerned. He took out his golf bag that he had (he was on the high school golfing team) and said he wouldn't be scared with his "equalizer" at hand, and slowly pulled out a rifle used for hunting. He took aim at the window closest to him, ready to shoot at the slightest movement. The thumping was so close, all 4 of us realized it was a drum. The sound went around the cabin twice, then faded away. Terri, Andy, and Chuck were silent. I said "That's it! I'm done!" Chuck told me they had a week-long price and still had 2 days left. Day 6 passed without incident. On the final day, we had just finished lunch, when we heard a familiar sound. THUMP! THUMP! TH-TH-TH-TH-THUMP! "NO!" Terri said. All 4 of us ran outside with all of us carrying a weapon. I had a plank of wood, Chuck had his rifle, Terri had a chain used for snow tires, and Andy had the golf clubs that Chuck kept in his bag. We all listened as the drumming went around and around in a thicket, so we couldn't see who . . . or what it was. After what seemed like hours, the drumming faded away. All 4 of us split up, but found nothing. No footprints, no boot prints, no broken branches, nothing at all. We all decided that enough was enough and packed up, then left. Once we calmed down, Chuck spoke up. "You know, we were in an area that saw action during the Civil War. Do you think?" We all knew what he didn't say. I decided that we must've been hearing a re-enactment of someone doing their duty. They had drummers in the 1860's. Those drummers could be as young as 12 in some cases. I don't know who we were hearing. I didn't say anything, but we all had left gear like our winter hats and gloves back at our cabin. As far as I know or care, maybe they're still there. As for the drummer, he's probably still there in the mountains, drumming into a battle that ended over a century and a half ago.
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