Nocturnal Wall Beater

I was around 10 or 11 years old, growing up in Georgia, when this started to take place.

I lived with my parents, 2 brothers, and 2 sisters in a rather nice ranch style brick home. My father had built this home when I was around 4-5 years old, and no one had ever passed away in it. My 2 brothers were 5 & 6 years older than I, 1 sister was 7 years older, and the other sister was around 1 or 2 years old when this happened. This all started very suddenly.

I and my 2 brothers slept in one room, in custom made bunk beds that my father had built into the room. They were built in an upside down "L" shape, with the main bunks on the right and a single bed coming off the main bunks from the head of the beds going towards the left. My oldest brother slept in the single bed, my other brother slept in the bottom bunk, and I slept on the top bunk. There were 2 windows over the single bed that my oldest brother slept in, and during the summer these were kept open so that the attic fan would pull cool air in. Sorry for so much detail, but it helps one to understand the rest of the story.

One night we had gone to bed and around 2-3 in the morning my oldest brother was jarred awake by a tremendous pounding on the other side of the brick wall where he slept, outside. He woke both of us up very quietly, and we listened as the pounding went across the wall as if someone was walking the length of half of the house and back, pounding on the brick wall as they went. Now this wasn't like someone was pounding with their fists or even kicking the house. We probably couldn't have even heard someone who was hitting the wall with their fists or feet. No, this sounded as if someone had a 15 or 20 lb. rock or something very heavy and solid and was pounding the wall with it as they walked back and forth, with the impacts coming approximately 1-2 seconds apart.

After some very frightening few minutes had passed, my oldest brother slipped into our father and mother's room and awakened our father, telling him about what was going on. My father, not pleased with being awakened at this hour, didn't really believe him at first but quietly made his way to our room where the pounding was still going on. As this was summer, he looked out the open window through the screen, but couldn't see anyone. He then proceeded to collect his 20 gage pump shotgun, and slipped out the door on the opposite side of the house from the pounding to try to sneak up on whoever was doing it. As Daddy turned the corner of the house with the shotgun at the ready, the pounding suddenly stopped.

Daddy had a flashlight of course, and there was nothing to hide behind for at least 30 to 40 feet, where our corn field started. He searched around for a bit but couldn't find anything and came back in. As soon as he came in the house the pounding started again. He went out immediately. When he turned the corner it stopped again. This was repeated several times, always with the same results.

These happenings then continued for the next 2-3 months, almost every night. My father never did find anyone or anything that could account for it. There were also no marks or any kind of evidence to show where the pounding was being done on the bricks.

One night my brother that slept underneath me was having a dream about playing basketball in a tournament at school, when the pounding started. As the pounding was going up and down the wall, he was dreaming that he had missed a shot and the coach had called him to the sideline. He dreamed that the coach was mad at him and while asleep he was moaning and making some kinds of noise. My oldest brother who slept under the windows was trying to listen to the pounding to figure out where it was at during that time and when my other brother started moaning he reached over and grabbed him by the hair of the head and started pulling his hair to try to shut him up. At this time in the dream, my other brother was dreaming that the coach had grabbed his hair and was pulling it for him missing the shot. We have always laughed about this happening.

Anyway, my father never did catch anyone or anything pounding on the wall, and we still wonder to this day what it could have been.