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Living on Top of an Indian Burial Ground: A True Childhood Haunting

The Log Cabin of Evil.

The Log Cabin of Evil.

The Beginning of a Nightmare, the Revealing...

I was twelve years old and just getting"over" my drastic childhood. Being plagued by ghost and other see through creatures wasn't exactly "fun." Finally I was at peace. I was becoming a teenager, and proud of it! I mean, heck I even had my very own room now! No more sharing my room with my bossy little sister Amanda. So when the news came that October night after dinner that we would be moving into a old beat up, half finished log cabin in the spooky woods, I wasn't to thrilled. My father seemed so excited about his purchase. If only I could feel that way. Dad said that we would have to "remodel" the place before we could move in so I still had a little time left in my current house. "Oh well" I thought. "Maybe I'll like it." As I drifted off to sleep that night I heard the sound of wolves howling in the distance. A strange occurrence for living in a suburb. That night I dreamed of wolves, cougars, and black bears chasing me through the woods. This dream because a nightly occurrence, one I'd wake up to with my sheets soaked in sweat. But just like everything else in my life...I got used to it.

The Construction, the Terror Begins...

It seemed like it took forever to drive to our future home. Twenty miles up a winding forest road was our destination. I will never forget the look on my mom's face when she laid eyes on her new home. "Oh honey, it's so beautiful." Mom stated. Her eyes told a different story all together, She was scared silly...We started the construction right away. It was the end of October and the snow was just starting to fall. My dad hired an old Native American fellow to help us with the construction and other odd jobs. I was playing outside with my be be gun when the old Indian rode up on a very handsome Appaloosa horse. The deep wrinkles in his face made him appear "wise," and it showed me that he worked outdoors a lot. "Howdy there young man." The old man said. "Howdy sir." I sheepishly replied. "Know where your daddy might be found?" He asked. As I led him and his horse around to the front of the house I heard the sound of a eagle, singing it's majestic song. I felt, just for a second, that I had stepped back in time to the cowboys and Indian days, who knows maybe I did? I introduced my father to the old no named man and sneaked around the side of the house so I could eavesdrop. "Be careful where you dig." The Indian warned my dad. "My ancestors rest here, just in back of your home." My father just shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't scared of no dead people." The old man just grinned, his toothless smile, full of mischief. "Well, I will do my best not to disturb anybody's rest." Dad said. "But if your relatives are in the way of my construction, well then..." The old fellow still smiled, his wrinkles looked like tanned leather. "Enough talking, lets get to work." My father stated. "I'll line you out." We did all that we could do before winter came, mainly preparing logs for the spring. My dad hoped to be finished with construction by the end of the next summer. The old Indian man worked harder than anyone I'd ever seen. Almost like he could be at two places at once. By the time Christmas came a good three feet of snow lied on the ground, putting an end to our project until spring time. As we drove down our one mile driveway I looked back at the house. Sitting on the porch was a cougar on one side, and a black bear on the other. I knew, that some how, they were protecting those dead people the Indian man spoke of. I watched them until they disappeared from sight as we drove away. The dreams quickly got worse, and I was soon to find out why...



Our Hero

Our Hero

Moving Into the Cabin From Hell...

We continued work that next spring. Father hired a couple friends from his work to help set the logs and to build the roof. After school my sister and I would often take hikes, exploring the property. We heard it before we saw it. A large black bear stood a hundred feet from us. We turned and ran as fast as we could. The bear followed, whipping it's head back and forth, growling as it chased us. Just as we were about to pass out a cougar came running out from under some brush. We stopped running, petrified with fear. I held my baby sister as tight as I could, determined to save her life by giving my own. The cougar was as fast as a bolt of lightning as it charged toward that old mean bear, making it turn about face and run away, it's head hanging low. Suddenly, as quick as it had appeared, the cougar disappeared back into the same bush it came out of. Telling our parents was not an option. Up until this moment, I have never told anyone about what happened, afraid that no one would believe me. We moved into our "dream" home exactly one year after we had bought it. Our dream home would soon become the cabin from hell...

The Portal of Hell...

The log cabin was two stories high with a basement. Mom and dad's bedroom was on the first floor and us kids had the basement. There was three of us, Me, Amanda age 8, and Adam age 10 months. The house was immaculate. Hard wood everything it was a sight to see. I didn't like the basement. The first time I went down the stairs I smelt something most horrible, like rotten flesh. This was even with a one foot concrete slab, covering all of the original dirt floor. The basement was dark and dreary, even with all of the many lights on. To this day, I don't know how my parents could have been OK with having their children live in that dungeon! We barely slept at night, always feeling like some one was watching us. Then one night (about three am) my baby brother Adam started crying. I ran to his room and low and behold, there he was standing up by himself. He was saying "Debble, Debble!" I knew exactly what he was saying (devil, devil) and ran upstairs to fetch mom. All of us heard him saying this and to tell you the truth, it scared the hell out of us! Then one night my little sister Amanda started screaming. I ran to her room and she pointed to the wall and said. "Hatchet man, hatchet man." I looked and I saw an exact shadow as if there was an Indian warrior standing there swinging his hatchet, over and over. The last thing I remember of the basement was when one night I was suddenly awoken at exactly 3:00 am. A huge bright light filled my room. It appeared to be coming from the basement windows. As it got larger and larger I pulled the covers of my eyes, scared silly. Finally, after what seemed forever the light left. I stuck my head out of the covers and looked at the clock. It read 2:59 am. I had some how gone back in time, or the light somehow changed my digital clock setting. Wolves howled, just outside our windows, just a thin pane of glass separating us from them. After about four nights, us "kiddos" had enough! We told mom and dad that we would never ever sleep down there again! And we didn't. From then on we slept upstairs, in the living room. We already felt much safer just knowing that mom and dad was just one room over...Boy, were we wrong!

Father's favorite place, the fireplace

Father's favorite place, the fireplace

Basket Ball Sized Orbs, Shape Shifting Dads, and Dead Things.

Things seemed to calm down a little bit once we moved upstairs. We all started to blame the happenings on "nerves" from moving into a new home. Even though my parents told us that everything was fine, I knew that they were hiding something from us. "Oh well." I thought. "Maybe it's better if we didn't know." I started getting migraine headaches every day after school. By the time that I had arrived home I was usually vomiting and really sick. I remember several occasions of coming home from school with vomit all over myself and in need of a shower. Almost every time I would go to take a shower (I used the basement bathroom) there would be dead animals in the bathtub! Rats, birds, mice, insects, and even a kitten once. I was not the only person finding dead animals. My mother would go to do the dishes and find dead mice and rats in her sink! We even had a dead squirrel in the dryer once. The strange thing was, that we did not own any pets or set any poisonous traps that could do this. I now believe that it was demonic activity. At night time we would see glowing blue orbs the size of basket balls bouncing around the house. It was actually pretty cool to watch, very wondrous. Things turned from weird to just plain evil, all at once. Doors would open and close by them selves, windows would do the same. But what really freaked mom and myself out was the night that my father was copy catted by a demonic entity! It was late and as always my father would "stoke" the fireplace, getting it ready for the night's freezing coldness. I remember coming up the basement stairs after going to the bathroom and I saw dad bent over by the fireplace, filling it with little tiny sticks of wood. I found this really strange because my dad always used large pieces of wood to do this. I walked over towards him and said. "Dad, are you OK?" He did not answer. So after standing there watching this "father" work, I went into my mom's bedroom. I asked my mother what was wrong with dad. Mom replied. "Nothing honey, he is in the bathtub taking a bath." My heart sung as I opened the bathroom door (mom and dad had a master bathroom attached to their bedroom) and witnessed my "real" father sitting in the bath tub reading a gun magazine! I freaked out. I ran into the living room to see if my "dad" was still at the fireplace. Nothing, the fireplace was dead, without any fire at all! I told mom and dad at dinner that next evening about what I had been seeing. We all took a vote. To stay there, or to move back to our old house. Unanimously we voted to move back home...And we did.

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© 2018 Dean Baron


Dean Baron (author) from Lewiston, Idaho on November 01, 2018:

Litza M Beers I have learned that many Native American tribes used rituals to call upon "earth spirits" aka "demons" to guard their dead. It is still believed in some areas that if a deceased person's body or grave is damaged or pilfered than that person cannot make it to his or her Afterlife.

Litza M Beers from 917 Highland Avenue, Beaver Falls PA 15010 on November 01, 2018:

Ok, what happened? Did stranger things happen? Why people build homes over a cemetery? Even if it is Native America. Maybe, the things that were done in the past as an example desegregation of a cemetery. Now, these negative energy is affecting the new generation.

Dean Baron (author) from Lewiston, Idaho on October 31, 2018:

Hello Starlette. Unfortunately one cannot just "look" this stuff up. You can however, ask around and see what the local "legends" are in your area. Plus, if you are getting this type of activity that you can pretty much "tell" something is amiss.

Starlette Skyes on October 31, 2018:

I think my childhood family home was built on either native or oriental burial/mass graves. How does one go about finding something like this out??

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