Storytime: I Saw the Ghost of an Indian Chief

Growing up, one of my favourite activities was building tree forts in the forest that was across the street from my house.  And when I say forest, I mean serious forest.  I don’t mean the four trees next to my current neighbourhood that all my neighbours call “the forest”.  This was a legit 100 acres of forest.

My friends and I would literally spend all our free time in there, after school and on weekends, building the perfect fort made out of branches, leaves and sticks, and then hang out in it, enjoying the fruits of our labour (until my fat bully neighbour Spoon would find it and trash it… He stole all my pogs too.  jerk.)

One day, my friends and I were deep in the forest, working on a pretty awesome fort.  It was just starting to get dark so we were getting ready to pack it in (rule was, home before dark, obviously), and then out of nowhere, it started to rain really hard.  I happened to be in a tree when the rain started, because I was trying to get a really cool-looking branch down that I thought would be a good addition to our fort.



My friends decided to leave because of the rain.  And when I say decided to leave, I mean they friggin’ took off as fast as they possibly could, and left me there all alone in the tree, and unable to run away with them.

I panicked.  I did NOT like being alone in the forest.  There was an old tale that had been passed around (that I loved to tell around campfires when we were exchanging ghost stories), that there was an old Indian graveyard in the forest, and at night time the ghost of an Indian Chief would wander the trails, looking for little children to eat (or something like that, anyway).

Picturing the ghost of a big bad Indian Chief lumbering up the trail to eat me, I half-climbed, half-slid, half-fell, out of the tree, and just booked it.

I ran down the trail as fast as my nine-year-old legs could carry me, in the pouring rain, almost dark, crying hysterically the whole way.

At one point, I slipped and fell face-first on the trail, getting mud ALL over myself, which made me even more hysterical, and cry even harder.

I finally escaped the evil dark forest, breaking free of the trail just in front of my house.  My friends were nowhere to be seen.

I rushed inside to my parents.  I must have looked like a mess.  I can only picture it.  Soaking wet, covered in mud, crying hysterically.

My parents took one look at me and were all “OH MY GOD!!!!  What happened to you???”

In my little nine-year-old brain, I realized that I had two options.

I could tell them the truth…or I could make up a story.

I could tell them that their only daughter was a giant loser and all her friends ran away and left her all alone, and I was terrified of being alone in the forest I spent every day in…

OR.  I could be a hero.

I took a deep breath…

Once the lie was out of my mouth and I saw the look on my parents faces, I immediately regretted it.  But it was too late to take it back.  And the old Indian graveyard lent truth to my story.  And I didn’t want to be known as a liar… so I backed that story up as best I could.

“He just appeared on the trail!”

“He was wearing animal skin!”

“He had face paint!”

“And feathers!!!!!!”


“He raised his hand and said How!”

(I had seen Peter Pan, I knew what Indian Chief’s said.  “Big Chief greet little mother. How.”)

I went on and on about the Indian Chief, and how afraid I was when he appeared in front of me on the trail.  I think I was pretty convincing, but I never really thought about whether or not my parents believed me.

I raved on about it to my friends, too.  So that they felt guilty about ditching me, and that I was the lucky one who saw the ghost of the Indian Chief.  And of course, they wanted to see the ghost too.

So the next day the four of us went back into the forest.  To invoke the spirit of the Indian Chief.

We held hands and sang the only Native song I knew, from Girl Guides, Land Of The Silver Birch, over and over, hoping that the ghost of the Indian Chief would show himself to us.

I felt safe in the forest with my friends again.  But of course, we never saw the ghost of the Indian Chief.

A few years ago I was talking to my dad about all the stupid things I did when I was younger (there were many), and I brought up this story, and his response was “You MADE that UP?!  Lindsey, I told people at WORK that story!”

My dad is awesome.  He will just always want to believe anything I tell him :).

The end.


36 responses to “Storytime: I Saw the Ghost of an Indian Chief

  1. OMG! I totally forgot about that song until this post. Remember we used to play it on our recorders in, like, grade 5?!

  2. Hi Lindsey!
    I found your blog a little while ago and I’ve been following you ever since, but I haven’t commented until today! I had to tell you this was the funniest thing I’ve ever read! I loved all the pictures, soo funny. I was laughing so hard the entire time I was reading. You are so talented.
    LOVE your blog!

  3. “I could tell the truth…Or I could make up a story” – LOL
    omg loved this. Way too funny!

  4. I think we need to rename your dad Believin’Bobby. He is so ridiculous and I love him. Your pic of him was 100% accurate as well. Haha.

  5. i almost peed myself reading this.
    i love the indian chief pics, did you trace them? also what program do you use for your drawings?

  6. Oh Linds, I remember you telling me this story! So funny. Seriously, you need to write a book. I miss you and your crazy stories!

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  8. Bah! Oh this tickles me! Merle’s nungas are quite lifelike! I’m trying to figure out who the friends are…I’m assuming Melissa, and is the mushroom top spoon? And the tall one prescott?! Lol beautiful retelling, oh Bobby…it reminds me of when he told you that the cops thought he was out driving the car in the middle of the night…lol good timones

  9. Annnd this is why your my favourite person in the world. LOL. You are the funniest person I know please don’t ever change!

  10. What happened here!!! I definitely commented on this. I read it and laughed so hard but also felt a little bit sorry for you left all by yourself in the dark forest 😦 LOL but I love the crazy stories we came up with as kids! Your drawings are so freakin’ cute & funny.

  11. I was dying, I mean dying laughing when I read this. You had hyped it up pretty big so I wasn’t sure if it would live up to expectations. But it did and then some!!
    Omg, you should totally start writing a comic strip. I LOVED the pics and I especially loved the part where you sang Land of the Silver Birch. Classic Canadian. Best story ever!

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  13. hahaha your dad. that’s so cute. LAND OF THE SILVER BIRCH killed me.

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  16. this story sounds like it could be straight out of “Now and Then” lol

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  19. i may or may not have told everyone in the 4th grade that i met the spice girls when I lived in England.

    …as a kid,sometimes, you just sound so much cooler when you lie.

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  21. bahaha I remember you tell us this story! you scared the crap out of me and Katie…I think I even told Brent about the chief last summer…I always thought it was real!

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  25. Great story! I den being 9 so much better now.

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  28. aw girl ur always falling over i sapose someones miss haps are anothers joy you make me want to try doing storys i am a buding poet and your storys make me want to try my hand p.s consider getting walking stick jokes loven your storys all the way from New Zealand

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