The Last Drumbeat in The Scared Forest

They say no one dares to enter the sacred forest after dusk.
Not because of wild animals… but because of the drum.

The drum that beats when no drummer is there.
An ancient rhythm, older than the village itself.
A rhythm said to call the spirits of forgotten warriors.

One night, a young man followed the sound.
His footsteps heavy… his heart louder than the echoes of the drum.
The villagers begged him not to go.
But curiosity is a dangerous fire.

Deep inside the forest, the rhythm grew stronger.
The ground trembled. The trees seemed to whisper his name.
And there — in a clearing lit only by moonlight —
he saw it.

An old, cracked talking drum, resting on a carved stool.
No hands touched it… yet it played.

They say he reached out.
And the moment his fingers brushed the hide… the drumming stopped.
The forest went silent.

By sunrise, the villagers searched for him.
But all they found was the stool… and a fresh grave beneath the drum.

Since then, when the last drumbeat fades,
the elders say another restless soul has joined the forest.