From the early seafarers, who told tales of monsters swimming just off our shores, to modern urban explorers, who report eerie encounters with ghoulish entities, Long Island has long been home to many a bizarre legend and tall tale. From the Amityville Horror to the Montauk Monster, this island has certainly seen its fair share of paranormal activity. But perhaps the most pervasive legend is that of Mary.
With a flashlight in hand, you cautiously make your way down the side of the road. The harbor stretches out to your left – distant boats twinkle and bob on the water. What remains of the sunset is quickly giving way to a moonlit sky. Having left your car in a rather tedious spot a good distance away, you are already a little anxious.
On the far side of the road, a canopy of old-growth and underbrush swell into the sky, giving all who reside in there a dark and shadowy place to hide. There is a house in there somewhere, a mansion some say, but you’re steering clear of that place, given all the strange rumors you’ve heard.
Something catches your attention, up on the hill. A light, dancing through the trees. Is it just a firefly? The light soon disperses into a mist. The mist now seems to be dangling – hanging – swinging from a tall branch of an old tree.
Just then a fast moving car appears around the far turn, blinding you with its headlights. You quickly step back – the gnarled branches seem to tug at you, pulling you off the road. The car slows – its unseen occupant no doubt watching you as they pass – then revs off again. Your pulse heightens. That’s when you find it, right where your friends said it would be - the cobbled remains of an old spring house.
Leaving the road you step through the thicket and onto the slab of gnarled stone. In that instance, the world goes quiet. No more crickets. No more rustling. Not even a hint of wind through the trees.
That’s when you hear it. A moan, a cry, or was it a scream? It came from the house, up the hill. No, wait – down the road. Is it someone singing? From the marsh, along the water’s edge, it’s someone calling to you… beckoning you.
Leaving the road behind you set off towards the water’s edge. You ditch the flashlight – the moon illuminates your path. Across the water, did you see that? A figure. A mist, striding through the field.
With your feet soaked and sinking, you stumble through the mud. Finally, you reach the water’s edge. Kneeling forward you peer into the water. Except, the only thing you see is your own reflection, staring back. You smile. After all, what else do you expect to see? You turn to leave, but a pair of pale hands refuse to let you go.
This is just an assorted mix of the many possible scenarios you may encounter if you go searching for Mary's Grave. But who was Mary? And where exactly is this supposed grave? Well, that depends on who you ask.
It seems every village and hamlet, particularly those along the North Shore, like to lay claim to Mary, though most would agree that the Stony Brook/Head of the Harbor area is the one most closely tied to the legend. Mary truly spans the gamut from folklore to urban legend, and the details surrounding her death and subsequent haunting are as vast and varied as her many supposed stomping grounds.
Some say Mary was a lovelorn widower, so distraught over the loss of her lover that she took her own life. Some stories paint Mary as the victim of murder, while others make her out to be the jealous killer. She was either hung, stabbed, or drowned. The farthest flung fable tells of Mary being burned as a witch in our colonial past, while others depict a fun-loving teen killed in a car crash. Essentially, Mary was a tragic woman who met a tragic end – a cautionary tale that continues to beckon us out into the darkness on a moonlit night.
This Halloween, if you do go out in search of Mary's Grave, please be mindful of private property and posted restrictions. And if you find yourself skirting the shores of Stony Brook Harbor, keep an eye out for a mysterious figure in white, walking along the bank or floating above the marsh. But whatever you do, don't peer into the water. You may see more than you expected staring back.
