Classic Mysteries

A Chilling Occurrence, Witchcraft, and an Arkansas Indian Mound

by Brent Raynes

Back in July 2009, co-editor Dr. Greg Little was on “Coast to Coast AM” and we were inundated with emails afterwards. Greg, the author of The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Native American Mounds and Earthworks (2009) and People of the Web (1990), is recognized by many as an authority on Native American Indian Mounds, Native American spirituality, and the paranormal. During the program he touched upon Indian Mounds some, as well as his and his wife Lora’s ongoing investigations in the Bahamas, in search of evidence that might correlate and possibly confirm the late Edgar Cayce’s psychic readings regarding an Atlantean repository of ancient wisdom and information, something called the Lost Hall of Records, presumably located in the area of Bimini.

At any rate, one email writer shared an alleged personal experience that was very strange and occurred in conjunction with an Indian Mound in Arkansas. In his own words he wrote:

I’m from Arkadelphia (Arkansas) and attended Henderson State University. 1970, as a freshman, I was introduced to Kim (pseudonym), a self proclaimed witch. At the time whoopee big deal. I did not like her and her pretence of black magic. By the spring of 1971, Kim was competing with another woman. What was strange to me is Kim was a stone cold fox representing black magic and this other woman that claimed to represent white magic was past plump, verging on extreme obesity. This large woman was gathering a coven together. Kim then, for her own protection, recruited and started a black magic coven.

This is how I came to talk to all of these strange people. Kim I had known at this time going on four major school terms, not including summers, due to my infatuation with her roommate. I believe it was that next fall when I was not a registered student. Information told to me by each of these major participants (was that they were) going to hold what amounted to a Magic War on the Indian Mound at Caddo Valley (presumably on the equinox, editor). Their reasoning was that on the actual timing and the latitude and longitude of that particular mound that the event would happen at exactly midnight.

Both covens made it clear to me: I and Kathy (pseudonym) were not (to) attempt to approach the mound that night.

I never told Kathy, nor did Kathy have any knowledge of the covens or the battle that was being planned for the Indian Mound that Saturday at midnight. I’m sure it was Saturday midnight because the morning was Sunday.

Saturday came and Kathy and I went to Little Rock to find a party. We never found a party and none of our friends living in Little Rock and Benton were home and there wasn’t a concert that night and both of the teen clubs had been shut down because of drugs during the previous two weeks. All that evening we went from restaurant to restaurant and all the local teen hang outs and that evening absolutely NO ONE was out or around. We headed back to Arkadelphia.

As we approached the Caddo Valley Exit on I-30, I told her to take the exit at the truck stop. It was nine minutes to midnight. Turning south on Highway 67, we took the scenic route.

A bit after crossing the Caddo River bridge is the turn off to the Indian Mound on the right. I told her to turn in there and we would go the back way into Arkadelphia after having just passed two country police and two state troopers at the Highway 7/67 junction. And besides, it was only two miles further to her house. No cops ever patrolled the back road.

The night was beautiful. Windows down and warm enough for short sleeves, clear as a bell with the full moon shining. Within seconds of making the turn the car started getting cold so we rolled up the windows. By the time we reached the bridge crossing over I-30 we had the heat blowing full blast and the car was still getting colder.

This sudden change in temperature was scaring Kathy and myself. She had slowed to a roll. As we started across the I-30 bridge, a mist formed on the windshield and hardened to ice long before we crested the bridge. I grabbed the ice scrapper out of the glove box and chiseled off a piece of ice two inches thick, 8 inches wide and 10 inches long and threw it on the floorboard. At the end of the I-30 bridge is a place leading to a gravel pit and I told her to turn around and floor it out to 67. The very instant we reached 67 the ice on the outside of the car disappeared and I made her slam the brakes to stop in the middle of 67. I jumped out of the car. The car body and windshield were completely dry, not even a drop of water. She is looking at the car and me as we walk around the car. She asks me, “Do you believe what just happened happened?”

Settling into the passenger seat my foot landed on the chunk of ice on the floorboard. I held it up and said, “I guess it did and this is the proof!”

There was not a cloud in the sky and from our position on the I-30 bridge to the Indian Mounds was dry as a bone in the full moon. She kept my binoculars in her trunk.

Where the mist came from I’ll never know. All I do know is that as I hung outside the passenger window with that ice scraper, the asphalt beneath the car was dry. I did not get wet and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, just ice forming on the car.

Scared is scared and we both knew we had experienced the same thing and scared beyond anything that we had ever experienced in our lives.

The covens had their own stories. It took me a year or so before any of their members even partially broke their vow of silence. I do know this much, everyone deserted Kim and the big girl, both white magic and black magic.


Editor’s Note: Often in connection with supernatural/paranormal occurrences great changes in temperature are reported. Frequently the temperature drops and it becomes very cold, as in this particular report.