The Jumbie Drums of Castries

Echoes in the Hills

The fishing village of Anse La Raye, just a short drive from the bustle of Castries, felt like a place out of time. Narrow streets wound between brightly colored wooden houses, and fishing boats rocked gently in the bay. It was a place where the air smelled of salt and fried plantains, where people greeted each other with nods and knowing smiles.

Micah Pierre, a lanky thirteen-year-old with restless eyes, spent most of his days exploring the forests and streams around the village. He had the heart of an adventurer, much to the frustration of his grandmother, Mama Elise. She raised Micah after his parents died in a boating accident when he was a baby. To her, Micah was her second chance at family. But to Micah, her stories of jumbies and spirits were just old tales meant to keep children in line.

One humid evening, as the sun dipped low and cast golden light over the village, Mama Elise sat on her porch, shelling peas. Micah sat nearby, pretending to listen as she spoke of the forest's secrets.

“You laugh now,” she said, waving a bony finger at him. “But if you ever hear the jumbie drums, you won’t be laughing. Those spirits don’t play games, Micah. They will take what they’re owed.”

Micah snorted. “Grandma, it’s just a story. Nobody’s seen these ‘jumbies’ for years.”

Mama Elise paused, her hands stilling over the bowl of peas. “Not seeing doesn’t mean they’re not there,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re too quick to doubt. Curiosity is good, but disrespect for the old ways will land you in trouble.”

Micah rolled his eyes, but he kept quiet. There was something in her voice—a weight that made his chest feel tight. He didn’t want to admit it, but the stories always left him uneasy, even if he tried to act unbothered.

The Cave in the Forest

A week later, on a day when the air was heavy with the promise of rain, Micah and his best friend, Kadeem, decided to explore the forest behind the village. Kadeem, shorter and stockier than Micah, always seemed nervous during their adventures. But he would never admit it.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Kadeem asked, hacking at some stubborn vines with his uncle’s rusty machete.

“When have my ideas not been good?” Micah replied with a grin, pushing past him.

“That time with the mango tree. Or the old well. Or—”

“Alright, alright,” Micah said, laughing. “But this is different. We’re looking for something real.”

The deeper they went into the forest, the darker it became. The canopy above them was so thick it turned the midday light into twilight. Birds called to each other in the distance, and the smell of damp earth and rotting leaves hung in the air.

Then they found it: a narrow opening in the hillside, hidden behind a curtain of vines. It looked like nothing more than a crack in the rock, but when Micah peered inside, he felt a strange pull, as if the cave itself was inviting him in.

“Let’s check it out,” he said.

Kadeem hesitated. “This… this feels wrong. My uncle said there are caves like this where the jumbies live.”

“Your uncle also said he caught a fish the size of a canoe,” Micah shot back. “Come on.”

Inside, the cave was cooler, the air damp and stale. They moved cautiously, their footsteps crunching on loose gravel. After a few minutes, they came upon a small chamber, and there they saw them: three ancient drums, standing in a circle on a raised stone platform. Their surfaces were cracked and worn, and strange symbols were carved into the wood.

Micah felt a chill run through him. “These… these must be the jumbie drums,” he whispered.

“Micah, let’s go,” Kadeem said, his voice shaking. “We shouldn’t be here.”

But Micah was already reaching out. His fingers brushed the surface of the smallest drum, and before Kadeem could stop him, he struck it.

The sound that followed was deep and resonant, like thunder trapped underground. For a moment, nothing happened. Then came the whispers.

The Drums Call

The forest seemed to awaken. Outside the cave, the wind picked up, though the air inside remained still. Shadows moved along the walls, independent of the faint light that filtered through the entrance. And the whispers—they grew louder, overlapping, until they sounded like a chorus of voices, too many to count.

Micah froze, his hand still resting on the drum. “Did… did you hear that?”

“Of course I heard it!” Kadeem snapped. “Let’s go before—”

But it was too late. A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the faint light. It was a man—or at least it looked like one. His body shimmered as though made of smoke and moonlight, and his eyes glowed faintly.

“You have awakened the drums,” the spirit said, his voice layered, as though a dozen voices were speaking at once.

Micah and Kadeem stumbled back. “W-we didn’t mean to!” Micah stammered. “We were just curious!”

The spirit’s face twisted, though it was unclear whether in anger or sorrow. “The drums are not to be touched by the living. They guard the balance between worlds. You have undone what was meant to remain sealed.”

The whispers grew louder, and the forest outside the cave filled with the sound of distant drumming. The air felt heavier, charged with energy.

“What do we do?” Kadeem whispered, clutching Micah’s arm.

“I… I don’t know,” Micah admitted.

“You must restore what you have broken,” the spirit said. “But be warned: the jumbies are awake now. And they will not return willingly.”

The Jumbies Come

The boys bolted from the cave, hearts pounding. The forest seemed to have changed. The trees felt taller, their branches clawing at the sky. Shadows moved at the edges of their vision, and the drumming followed them, growing louder and more insistent.

“We have to go to Mama Elise!” Kadeem shouted as they ran. “She’ll know what to do!”

Micah didn’t argue. For once, his usual bravado was gone, replaced by a cold, gnawing fear. When they reached Mama Elise’s house, they found her waiting on the porch, her face grim.

“You touched the drums,” she said before they could speak. It wasn’t a question.

Micah nodded, breathless. “I didn’t know—I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t think,” she interrupted. “And now the jumbies are free.”

“What do we do?” Kadeem asked. “How do we stop them?”

Mama Elise sighed. “You must return to the cave and play the drums again, but with the proper rhythm. The rhythm of balance. It is the only way to send the spirits back.”

“But what’s the rhythm?” Micah asked, panic creeping into his voice.

“You must listen,” Mama Elise said. “The drums will tell you. Trust your heart.”

The Final Beat

Micah and Kadeem returned to the cave, the forest now alive with glowing figures and ghostly laughter. The jumbies were everywhere, their forms shifting and flickering in the moonlight.

Inside the cave, the drums seemed to hum with energy, their surfaces glowing faintly. Micah approached them, his hands trembling. He closed his eyes and listened—not with his ears, but with something deeper. Slowly, a rhythm came to him, a pattern that felt both familiar and foreign.

He began to play. The sound filled the cave, resonating through the stone walls. Outside, the jumbies paused, their forms swaying as though caught in the rhythm. Micah played faster, his hands moving instinctively.

As the final beat echoed through the forest, the jumbies began to fade, their glowing forms dissolving into the air. The drums fell silent, and the forest grew still.

Lessons Learned

The next day, the boys sat on Mama Elise’s porch, exhausted but relieved. She looked at them, her expression a mixture of relief and exasperation.

“You’ve learned a lesson, I hope,” she said. “Some things are not meant to be disturbed.”

Micah nodded. “I’ll never touch another drum again.”

Mama Elise chuckled. “The drums aren’t the problem. It’s the disrespect for what they represent. Always remember, Micah: the past isn’t gone. It lives in the land, in the stories, in the rhythms of the drums. Respect it, or suffer the consequences.”

The boys left that day with a deeper appreciation for the stories they had once dismissed. And though the jumbie drums remained silent, their rhythm lived on in the hearts of those who remembered.