As a young man, my father spent some time living on the Navajo Indian Reservation in the Four Corners area. He and his buddy lived alone in a trailer that overlooked a ravine several miles away from Navajo Mountain. It wasn’t uncommon for he and his friend to hear drums coming from the mountain at night. The locals told them not to go out after dark when the drums were playing because the witches were on the mountain and would try to harm them. My father broke his leg and soon found himself confined to the lonely trailer...
No comments:
Post a Comment