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Submitted by j1955610 on April 27, 2008
Category: English
Words: 1503 | Pages: 7
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Indians from Safron Beach
I’ve always heard that Indian burial grounds were sacred grounds and not to be messed with. The word is that there are spirits, mostly evil, that can haunt people and terrorize them for the remainder of their poor lives. Seems like a load of crap, right? Well, at least that’s what my friends and I thought and there was no better time to test this superstition than on Halloween night.
In our little beach front town there used to be Indians, of course I’m talking about hundreds of years ago, but there were Indians. Eventually, the Spanish explorer Varquez came and landed on a beach called Safrons. He was met by aggressive Indians who did not want to share land and a battle ensued resulting in the death of all the Safron Indians. Varquez’s men buried all the bodies, which formed a large hill of dirt. Fast forward to present day, and the hill remains and is a fenced area only accessible by certain personnel. Oh, and of course it’s haunted.
Marty, my right-hand man was a shorter, dark haired, scraggly looking kid who always seemed to have on faded vintage shirt and filthy jeans that looked like they had been rubbed in dirt. He was a hard headed fool who did not believe anything until he had seen it for himself. So, he thought that the Indian burial ground was a long living urban legend. He was a convincing fellow too, always pulling random facts out of his ass, so we believed it was a myth also. Our other buddy, Jim was a tall, pale, lanky guy. He was the daring kind who liked to take risks. Yea, he had been arrested for some of these risks, but I always thought that was what was appealing to him. It was Halloween night and we were just partying and drinking some beers at Jim’s house. It was basically a bachelor pad with a dock that overlooked the green waters of the Gulf of Mexico and a pool that seemed to fill up any night of the week.
“Guys, we should goes to the Indian...
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