"I was 19. I used to walk to Denny's from my house every evening, leaving around 8 or 9pm. There, I would hang out with my friends, smoke and drink coffee, and play cards until 2 or 3 in the morning. This one particular evening I left later than usual, probably around 11pm or so.
The Denny's was 5.7 miles from my house, so it was a bit of a walk. So I'm walking along like I had done dozens of time before. I get to a wooded area that always got dark, and I started hearing music from a house off the road. Just heavy bass drums with a real steady beat. Not a big deal, because people out that way always had big parties. I continue walking but the music doesn't go away.
I stop, and listen real carefully and it sounds more like drums in a continuous loop. There's not another parallel road for a couple miles from where I am, so it cannot come from a vehicle. I continue walking and for about two miles I continue to hear this music. Never gets louder and never gets quieter. I stop and listen again. It sounds a lot like Native American drums.
I walk again, quickening my pace. As I walk, listening to the drums that are following me, I start to smell gun powder. I walk a mile listening to drums and smelling gun powder.
I may have started getting really creeped out, so I'm not sure if I heard footsteps behind me, or if it was just my imagination. I only hear them for a couple hundred feet. Then I walk into a clearing in the woods, and it all disappears. The drums stop, I don't smell gunpowder, no footsteps (except mine). Just me walking.
I get to Denny's entirely shook up, but I didn't share my story for a few days."