Paramornal sightings in my small ancestral community called Freeunin/Piney woods, which is located in Eastern North Carolina.
Nestled snugly between the Roanoke River and Welch’s Creek lies a small village named Freeunion (Piney Woods). This site is located in Jamesville, North Carolina; a section of Martin County. The community is properly known as Freeunion due to its original population of American Indian and Free Negro inhabitants because the name Freeunion implies free people united. Alternatively, it is commonly known as Piney Woods, complements of the lavish, tall, green, fragrant, pine trees, which are native to the community. Many of the Freeunion citizens consider themselves black, a few consider themselves white, meanwhile, a few consider themselves Indian, even so, legitimately Freeunion citizens are born with an Indian heritage. The early founders were tri-racial folks, which entailed Native American, Free Negro, and White American.

Blessed with fertile farmland and exuberant families; the primary crops grown in Piney Woods are corn, peanuts, soybeans, and tobacco. Cotton was not a priority because “It was hard to get anyone in Piney Woods to pick cotton,” as stated by several community folks. Piney Woods is extremely rich in culture, folklore, legends, and supernatural activity, in fact, several of the authentic stories that I have been told throughout my lifetime were handed down from generation to generation, while numerous stories are based on first hand knowledge and eyewitness accounts, which enhance the beauty and priceless history of Piney Woods.

As a child I grew up in Bronx, New York; enduring freezing winters and listening to the relentless blares of horns and sirens made me ecstatic when mama said, “Its time to go down south!” To me, going down south meant seeing Gods' country as well as spending the entire summer with my maternal grandparents and my sister. In my opinion, Piney Woods epitomized paradise, meanwhile, Bronx, New York, utterly portrayed the opposite. The public schools in New York closed every year in June and each summer my uncle Jody or uncle Leroy drove my mother and me to Piney Woods. However, aunt Mattie and me sometimes rode the bus to North Carolina, nevertheless, despite the transportation method it was fantastic to spend liberal summers with all my kinfolks. Piney Woods was beautiful and filled with "freedom" unlike the streets of New York. In Piney Woods, I could breathe fresh air as well as see the stars at night. My grandparents did not have indoor plumbing and their water supply came from a handpump located near the kitchen door and that water was the best tasting water in the world. Sometimes I would drink so much water until I could hear it splashing around in my belly.

Grandpa was a hard working man and he worked away from home at the saw mill plus he farmed and tended a garden, which was always filled with fresh vegetables and sweet, juicy fruit such as watermelon. My grandfather worked all the time and he didn't spend much time talking with the grandkids but on the other hand, my grandmother spent lots of time with us and grandma was an excellent storyteller and on many occasions grandma told me, “We descended from Indians...” Next grandma said, “Our ancestors had long, pretty, dark, hair...” Grandma additionally said, “White settlers killed the Indians; they tied them to stakes and let them die in the hot sun...” Furthermore, she said, “They killed little Indian babies and on dark, rainy, nights you can hear babies crying in the woods...” Supporting validity of grandma’s story, my mother Lena often told me stories about hearing babies crying in the woods behind her parent’s house. Additionally, aunt Ollie, aunt Mattie, and uncle Ralph related the same information to me. On numerous occasions, mama told me that she recalled sitting in the house with her family and seeing a solitary head with long, black, hair hovering outside the windows of her parent’s house. She said the head floated from window to window around the entire house; meanwhile, her family was inside scared half to death.

Luckily, I never heard babies crying on dark, rainy, nights or observed solitary floating heads but I have witnessed several mystical events in Piney Woods myself. During the summer of 1964, my mother and me made our yearly journey to Piney Woods, for my summer vacation. During one beautiful, clear, day, while

As mom energetically cleaned grandma’s front yard, I inched quietly into her back yard and sit on the back doorstep, with the ability to observe the enormous field directly behind grandma’s house. While busily changing my doll’s diaper, I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. At once, I stopped changing my doll’s diaper and focused my attention on the action-taking place in the field. To my surprise, it was full of people! As I looked closer, I was able to distinguish that they were Indians! To tell the truth, I saw an entire village, unmistakably, I witnessed numerous Indian people doing chores and busily moving around their village. To my right, I saw a group of Indian men dancing in a circle and directly in front of me was an Indian man sitting on the ground, while briskly beating a drum between his crossed legs.

In appearance, each Indian man was reddish-brown in skin tone with silky, straight, dark, hair. Numerous Indian men had long hair, while a few Indian men sported well-groomed, short haircuts. Sleekly attired in authentic buckskins and breechcloths, several Indian men waved turtle shell rattles, while dancing. Meanwhile, several Indian men wore beautiful, white feather, dance skirts, and bare upper bodies. On each powerfully built, bare chest and around their ankles, the men wearing dance skirts wore elegant strings of white shells, which created a melody that contributed to the intensifying drumbeat as they danced. Mesmerized, I watched those gorgeous, masculine, bodies gracefully move in precision with each vigorous drumbeat! Naturally, I was seven years old at the time and the site of handsome Indian men didn’t excite me but now as I think about the vision my lips curve into a pleasant smile! Wow, they were so handsome! Surely, I can totally understand where Piney Woods men inherited their good looks!

Pleasantly amused, I stood there and watched them dance for what seemed to me like hours. Regretfully, my concentration was broken when mama called my name. She said “Ruby, where are you?” Whispering, I said “In the backyard.” She said, “What are you doing?” Without turning my head, I said, “Looking at the Indians!” Immediately, she said “Indians, what Indians?” Bluntly, I said “those” and pointed. AWESTRUCK, mama said “OH MY GOD!” She grabbed her chest, turned white as a sheet, and aggressively pulled my arm and said, “COME ON!” As a result of her behavior and actions, I became afraid and I looked back just in time to see them slowly vanish. However, not once did it occur to me that the Creator had graciously permitted me to glimpse into the spirit world, thereby, observing my ancestors perform a sacred ceremonial dance. Oh what a precious gift and memory!

Many years have passed since my incident with the dancing spirits and I am all grown up now but I will never forget the experience. Thankfully, I am not the only person that has seen the dancing spirits but that is another article waiting to be written. Plus, many other Piney Woods folks have witnessed paranormal occurrences but they were ashamed to say anything to anyone about the incident. Nevertheless, I don’t mind sharing with my readers true stories about unexplainable things that have happened in my life and remember there are more articles waiting to be written. Like I said, my grandma was a great storyteller and I have heard all sorts of paranormal stories. During the daytime, Piney Woods appears to be a small, quiet, backwoods, southern community surrounded by pine trees but at night the spirits take charge!

About the Author

Ruby is a promising writer who lives along the Roanoke River in North Carolina. She loves nature and animals as well as exciting stories that include paranormal activity. Ruby also loves poetry, children, and indigenous history. Ruby's unique writing ability entails "writing like people talk."