by 12 year old writer
I live across the road from an Indian burial ground and battlefield, my mom and dad told me stories about the arrowheads and clay pieces they would find, and also about the ghost stories. Early one morning we had gotten up and heard hooves thumping outside. So we got dressed to see what it was. As we looked around we spotted an Indian riding a white and brown horse going over the hill as we chased it, it disappeared at the tree line. The same morning my uncle said he heard Indians holloring on the mountain. So we went over to check and found two boy scout leaders from Baltimore camping out. But that only solved the Indian call part not the mysterious horse. Despite numerous attempts we could not find the horse and the Indian again.