For context, my mother and father split and we moved. My sister and I stayed with our mother. Our house is on the same property as my mother’s parents and it happens to be in the middle of the woods. It’s not a huge farm but we have three fields in different areas and a barn, with a lot of forest.
We moved when I was around five. My sister would’ve been two or three. Up until I was around twelve years old, I had only ever been up to the fields. I didn’t know what lays beyond the ridge.
I was walking with my grandpa in the woods. It was normal for us to do that. We were walking in a new area and we were looking for maple trees. We came across this small stream and on the other side we’re stairs. They were small brick stairs, maybe about four or five steps. I was super confused because the stairs looked new. They were clean. Now being a curious twelve year old girl, I wanted to go climb them. I just figured they were old stairs from a house that could’ve been there. I told my grandpa about the stairs and he got wide-eyed. All he said to me was, “Don’t touch them. Don’t climb them.” Weird, but I knew my grandpa probably knew what he was talking about.
I forgot about the stairs until around two years after. Now, I had been comfortable with our woods. I can go out by myself and not be worried about a thing. I know where i’m at no matter where I am on the property. Nevertheless, the staircase area was foggy in my head. I never remembered where they were at. Until I found a stream. I decided I was going to follow the stream. So I’m running along the right side of the stream when I look up. Sure enough, the same staircase was off to my left. I wanted to take a closer look, my mistake, and jumped over the stream. I walked over to the stairs. A weird feeling came over me, like when you’re being watched. I don’t know why I was so fascinated with the stairs but it was like they were calling to me.
I was about to touch the first step, when I remembered what my grandpa told me. I loved my grandpa and I never wanted to disobey him. Though the stairs were calling to me, I took off back towards home.
When I got back, I found my mother crying on the front porch. I asked her what was wrong and she looked up at me with wide eyes. She just got up and ran to hug me. Still confused, I asked her what was wrong again. She proceeded to tell me how I’m never to go out by myself again. I brought up how I wasn’t gone for that long, an hour at most. She just looked at me like I had three heads. She said, “An hour? Try an entire day. Pap went looking for you where you said you’d be, you weren’t there.” Okay, so I lost a day to explore? I was back at nightfall.
I thought the whole situation was weird but I didn’t want to push on the subject. Fast forward to another year. My pap and I were on a hike again. This time, we were back on that little stream. Yet, never once did I see the stairs. When I asked my pap about it, he just asked “What stairs?”
To this day, I’ve never seen the stairs again.
Continuing with my property, there’s an old cemetery above on a hill, maybe a mile or two away. I’ve never personally been up there but my mom and grandparents have. Apparently a family died on the property from a disease. The father buried his wife and his two, i think, kids. The father was the last to go.
There was a boy buried in the cemetery. I don’t know wether or not he was apart of the family, but we call him the “Little Drummer Boy.” That’s what he does. On summer nights with the window open, you’ll hear drumming. It sounds like someone is drumming right outside.
I remember waking up one night to open the window and I just heard this faint drumming. As I laid back on the couch, the drumming got closer. Almost as if it was right outside the window. As far as I know, he’s harmless. However, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited until it went away. I still hear him every summer, but I never go to check it out. Ever.
I still live here as of right now but in a month or so, i’ll be moving. Also I’ve seen scarier stories on NoSleep but I felt like I should share mine.
Edit 1: I have a few more short stories and so do a few of my friends. Also this is not fiction. These are actual things that have happened.