Few ghost stories are more unsettling than that of Sarah MacDonald Ware, a Maine woman brutally murdered in 1898 whose battered skull spent nearly a century locked away.
More than 125 years after her corpse was discovered in a thicket, Ware's name is still whispered in connection with reports of a faceless woman beneath a lake, shared nightmares and a ghost said to haunt the town where she died.
Her head was so badly damaged that it reportedly separated from her decomposing body when her remains were moved.
Her macabre remnants were kept as evidence for decades before finally being buried in 1998. But while her remains were laid to rest, the mystery of her killing was never solved.
For Marcus LiBrizzi, Professor of English of the University of Maine, the case illustrates how folklore can preserve painful histories long after the people who witnessed them have died.
'Ghost stories don't simply recount memories – they can revive them and bring the past back into the present,' he wrote in an article for The Conversation.
Ghost stories, he argues, do more than frighten us, they can bring the injustices of the past back into the present.
'As a ghost story, the history of Sarah Ware is not past but rather part of the here and now,' LiBrizzi wrote.
In Bucksport, Maine, the mother of two had built a modest living cleaning houses and taking on odd jobs after separating from her husband, Edward.
Born in 1846 in Creignish Rear, on Nova Scotia's Cape Breton Island, she had married and raised a family in Maine, but her marriage was unhappy and the couple eventually went their separate ways.
For almost a century, Sarah MacDonald Ware's battered skull sat inside a wooden box in a Maine courthouse, a grim relic of a murder that had baffled investigators and divided the town
Speculation swirled that Ware haunted the Maine town of Bucksport. In the 1980s a woman and her daughter reported seeing visions of a faceless woman in a long white dress
For Marcus LiBrizzi, Professor of English of the University of Maine, the case illustrates how folklore can preserve painful histories long after the people who witnessed them have died
On September 17, 1898, Ware disappeared. Nearly two weeks later, searchers found her body among alder bushes off Miles Lane, in a discovery that would haunt the town for generations.
Her skull was fractured, the bones on one side of her face broken. The remains were so badly decomposed that identifying her required close examination of her clothing and possessions. When men attempted to move the body, her head reportedly came away from the neck.
Suspicion eventually fell on William Treworgy, a man Ware had worked for. A bloodstained hammer bearing his initials was reportedly found, and a witness named Joseph Fogg claimed that Treworgy had enlisted his help to move a body wrapped in canvas.
According to the testimony described in the state's 1903 attorney general's report, Fogg later withdrew his account, denying his earlier statements under oath.
Treworgy was tried in 1902 and acquitted. No one was ever convicted of Ware's murder.
The acquittal left a void that rumors swiftly filled. One theory passed down through local families holds that Ware was playing cards with prominent men when a drunken argument erupted.
According to this account, she tried to intervene and was struck to the head with a bottle during the fight, with Treworgy allegedly paid to dispose of her body.
Local historian Sharon Bray has recounted this version of events, but it remains unproven.
Bucksport journalist Sharon Bray believed that Ware was beaten to death
However, local author Emeric Spooner has advanced a different explanation, suggesting Ware was collecting money owed to her and may have visited Treworgy towards the end of her rounds.
Neither account has settled the mystery.
Instead, the physical evidence remained locked away at the Hancock County Courthouse. Ware's skull and jawbone were stored alongside her handbag, rings, two small purses, foreign coins and a green raincoat wrapped in paper and twine.
For decades, the box sat largely forgotten. Then, in 1982, courthouse staff stumbled upon it, reviving interest in the century-old crime.
For some visitors, the contents were an irresistible curiosity, former associate clerk Sandy Negrini later recalled many asking whether Sarah Ware was still at the courthouse. She would explain that it was her skull they had kept.
Other visitors were more perturbed by the findings, believing Ware haunted the building. Negrini remembered hearing stories of a ghostly presence, although she described Ware as seemingly friendly rather than frightening.
But it was the legend surrounding Silver Lake that gave the case its most chilling afterlife.
During the 1980s, a woman and her daughter reportedly began experiencing the same recurring nightmare: a long-haired woman in a long dress struggling to rise from the bottom of a lake. After investigating the local history, they came to believe the apparition was Ware.
The story became linked to a former paupers' cemetery that was reportedly flooded during the 1930s to create a reservoir at Silver Lake.
Local lore claims that graves were left beneath the water, prompting speculation that Ware's original burial place might still lie underwater. The claim remains unverified, and historical accounts of the cemetery's relocation differ.
In September 1998, Ware's skull was finally buried at Oak Hill Cemetery, a century after her death. Local researchers and community members helped arrange the service, giving the remains a dignity they had been denied while stored as evidence.
But the burial did little to silence the legends.
In 2006, another reported sighting revived the legend, a young woman scuba diving in Silver Lake allegedly saw a figure in a long dress struggling towards the surface.
As she approached, the figure's hair drifted back through the water, revealing a faceless apparition.
Source link
