This experience happened to me about 11 years ago at the tender age of 18. It's a little long, so please bear with me...the additional information is relevant. I actually have two fairly decent stories (in my humble opinion) to submit, but will do the first experience now. My parents had separated and my mother had met a man (now my wonderful step-father) who lived in Maine. At the time, we (she and I) lived in Washington state. Well...things came to pass and we finally moved to Maine. This was in November of 1987. My soon-to-be step-father found a duplex in Yarmouth. It was in a little cul-de-sac and the name of the road was Indian Ridge Rd. At the entrance to the cul-de-sac was a signpost with a sign that had a tomahawk painted on it along with the name "Indian Ridge". Not being from the area...this didn't mean anything to us....then. After a few months, it came to mean a lot more. Well...we settled into our new home and started the process of learning to live together. I started school and made some friends...life went on. After being there a few months, I started to notice things. Little things, mind you, but things none-the-less. I started having extremely vivid and scary nightmares...truly terrifying. Then I noticed that the cats were doing some strange things. The most peculiar had to do with two closets - 1 in my room and 1 in my mother's room. My mother started keeping the door to their room shut. When I asked her why, she said that whenever the cats were in her room the would always go straight into her closet. If the door was open they would go in and thump around. If the door was shut, they would paw frantically at the door until it was opened. She was afraid they were going in there to "use the restroom" so to speak. As far as I know, they never did, but she said she didn't want to take any chances. Here's the strange thing...whenever they were in my room, whether the closet door was wide open or shut up, they never looked twice at it - they weren't the slightest bit interested in it. They would just pad into my room, hop on my bed and go to sleep. One quiet Sunday afternoon I was lying on my bed sort of drowsing. I distinctly know I was not fully asleep because I could still hear outside noises...cars going by, etc. etc. Suddenly, I heard a very deep, very evil sounding chuckle...I mean truly the stereotypical evil laugh. It happened right next to my ear...my eyes flew open and I glanced around the room, but of course saw nothing. My heart was racing. I didn't say anything to my mom, because she is a very skeptical person so I figured she wouldn't believe me. Ok...not so scary so far right? Well...here's the rest. One night my then boyfriend was driving me home. He laughed and asked me if I knew how Indian Ridge Rd got it's name. I said no. So he stared feeding me this malarkey about some sort of pilgrim massacre that happened in that area - hence the tomahawk on the sign. Because he was my boyfriend, and because it was late and very dark, I just laughed it off and forgot about it. About 2 weeks later I was getting a ride home from a friends house. Her dad was giving me a lift. Now this man is a true "downeaster". Born and bred in Maine. I think he's lived in Yarmouth all his life. So on this night, he's yakking at me about something and then asks me if I know how Indian Ridge got it's name. So I yammered that I'd heard something about a massacre, and he said "Ayuh"...and goes on to tell me that there had been a big massacre way back when in that area. Now honestly...to this day I can't remember if he said it was the Pilgrims who were killed or the Indians. I have a feeling it was the Pilgrims - you'll see why in a second. So the next morning over breakfast I decide to mention this to my mother. I said..."Hey ma...guess how Indian Ridge got it's name?" and proceeded to tell her the story. I never saw a person's eyes get so big so quickly in my life! I knew something was up immediately so I asked her what was wrong. A quick "Oh nothing" was the reply. But I persisted, so she broke down and told me the following. She said that strange things were happening in their room at night. She would wake up in the middle of the night and see dark things sort of float past her face. She said she knew she was awake, and she would try and grab at them, but of course would get handfuls of nothing. One night she had a dream that John (my step-father) was strangling her, and she woke up terrified. Next to her John was making noises..she woke him up and he had been dreaming that he was strangling her too (wow...just gave myself the shivers!). Then she said she woke up another night and saw a dark figure at the foot of their bed. I asked if she could make clothing or anything out...she said it looked as if it were wearing a cloak and a hat sort of like the "Pilgrim" type hat. She said she was so terrified she couldn't move. She said the figure felt very evil. I asked her why she hadn't told me any of this before, and she said she didn't want to scare me, as I was home alone a lot, and tend to have a very active imagination. I started saying something about having a friend bring her Ouija board over...but she clamped her hand down on my arm, and very sternly told me she didn't want me to do that...made me promise in fact. Now, please understand, I had a Ouija board of my own (in storage at the time) and she knew about it...she never had a problem with them before. So I could tell she was extremely serious and promised I wouldn't use one in the house. A few months later we found a new home (my other story) out in the backwoods - so we moved. She never told me if anything else happened there, and I never observed anything. We always wondered if the family on the other side of the house had experienced anything, but never had the guts to ask. The house is still there...being lived in I'm sure. Who knows...maybe whoever's living there now has seen our pilgrim. Anyone There? Ok...for any of you who have read Pilgrim's or Indians (above story)...here's my other story. My mother, step-father and I moved from a duplex in Yarmouth Maine to a fairly new house in Durham Maine. Durham is total woods...not even a town really. There is a school, but it's mostly just a bunch of houses scattered around on backwoods roads. To get to the house we moved to (where my parents still live) you have to turn down this dirt road, drive for 3/4 of a mile, then you get to a left turn (paved - but a dead end). They live down there...with the house entirely surrounded by fir trees. There are neighbors, but the houses are well spread apart. So here's the thing..we had been living in the house for about a year. We had a bulldog at the time, who liked to bark at the ceiling. It was unnerving really. He would sit about halfway up the staircase, with his face stuck between the rails in the bannister and track something on the ceiling. His eyes would follow something. He'd stand, bark then look one way....bark then move his head and bark some more. I use to watch him, then turn to see what he was looking at. Of course...I never saw a thing, but it would always give me the shivers. It was obvious that dog was watching something. So it's spring of 1989 - and I go to Seattle for two weeks to see family. When I come back I am informed that we are now locking our back door. This was something we NEVER did. My mother's lame excuse was that she had seen that Geraldo show where he interviewed the Satanists. She said that it made her realize that there are a bunch of loonies out there and so we're locking our doors now. I thought it was odd, but just said "whatever" and that was that. Later that summer, my parents were gone on vacation. They were going to be gone for about 3 weeks. So one night, I'm home alone with 1 bulldog and 3 cats - all of whom are indoors with me. I was downstairs watching TV and started to feel sleepy, so I decided it was time for bed. I got up, shut off the lights, and headed up the stairs in the dark. I walked down the hall to my room, went in, turned on the light and putzed around for a few minutes. The door was a heavy door, so it always swung shut behind me. I opened the door to head to the bathroom. When I got to the bathroom, I looked down the stairs and saw that the light was back on in the living room. I totally froze. Then I creeped back down the stairs, stopped about halfway to scope out the living room, but of course...no one was there - only the cats. I looked out the window, but it was pitch black...couldn't see a thing. So I quickly rationalized that one of the cats had jumped the 6-7 feet from the back of the couch to slam into the wall and flip the light back on. Now - why am I sure I turned the light off to begin with, you may be asking? I know I turned the light off the first time because I was looking at one of the cats when I did, and of course, when the light went off, I couldn't see him anymore. But I did hear him run halfway up the steps and stop. His bad habit of waiting for me to come up and pet him. I was afraid that I might step on him in the dark and fall and break my neck. So anyway...I shut the light off again, went upstairs to my room, made sure my butcher knife was safe in my headboard, prayed a quick prayer to God, and finally drifted off to sleep - with the light on. Nothing happened the rest of the time my parents were gone. So...my parents finally come home. A few days later mom and I are driving home from somewhere and I say "You know mom...I've got something to tell you, but I KNOW you aren't going to believe me." And then told her what happened. Imagine my shock when my mother says "You know April, normally I wouldn't believe you, except that the same thing happened to John and I while you were gone." THEN she tells me that while I was in Seattle, one night after going to bed she got up for a potty break. She said she looked down the stairs to the living room and thought to herself.."Wow....it's really dark down there." Then she went potty, then back to bed. She and John then woke up sometime later to hear our bulldog barking frantically in the breezeway and someone pounding on the backdoor to the kitchen. This was the door that led out into the breezeway. When John got up and opened the door, mom said she just froze, because she could see that the light was on in the living room. So they called the cops, who were there in a matter of minutes - but of course...no one was found. THAT was why the doors were being locked - not because of that stupid Geraldo show. And when I asked her why they didn't tell me...again I heard..."Because we knew we were going to be gone and we didn't want to scare you." Well...apparently, something else decided I needed to know and told me. The funny thing is, at the time, the house was only about 6 years old. The previous owners had built it themselves. The only thing we could come up with was that we knew that the family that lived in the house before us was very good friends with the family next door. Apparently the wives were very close. However, the neighbors wife was very depressive...tried to commit suicide a number of times. She finally succeeded by throwing herself in the river that runs behind our house. The only thing we could figure was that maybe it was her, just letting us know she was there - sort of saying hi maybe. Anyway...after the last episode with me, nothing happened again. Like I said, my parents still live in the house, and I've never seen anything again myself.

Submitted From: April Glass, Tennessee, USA

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