If you are in the spiritual circle in Portland, ME, you may have heard that there’s a witch buried in the Western Cemetery. The cemetery established in 1850 was not well kept, so there’s many headstones that are broken or worn away past the point of readable. Apparently, the cemetery has been vandalized as well, with many walking off with the headstones. No one knows if this is actually a witch or if it’s fable but many witches go to make offerings to the grave in hopes of guidance or protection, or just some good karma. The witches tomb sits surrounded by 4 other headstones within a fence. This stone grave used to be headed with a large cross that has since come tumbling down. It used to read the Latin word “ diaconus” so some would assume the person buried there was a deacon of sorts. The Celtic patterns that wrap around the base have mostly warn off. Today, I bundled some mugwort and a few other flowers and herbs and tied it with some straw. I marched my way through the tall grass to give an offering. I noticed the bush next to the fence is over grown. Just below the left side of the tomb is a hold that most likely was dug by a small critter. A white tall candle with the grim reaper printed on the glass was sitting on the headstone. A mostly smashed pumpkin was decaying off to the left. Some black wax and partially burnt incense were to the right. I left my offering and cleaned up the cans of white claw and other trash that were cluttering up with beautifully witchy scene. As I left to throw away the trash I heard distinct footsteps coming from behind me. Many people jog through the cemetery around to the park so I turned around to see which way they were going. I pulled my dog aside and turned to look, but realized no one was there. I looked around and no one else was in the cemetery. The footsteps sounded like they could have been just 5 or 10 feet behind me so if anyone was there I would have noticed. The birds stopped chirping. I felt a slight tingling in my left shoulder and down my arm. I called out, “if you come in peace you may make your presence known, but if not you must leave.” There was a moment more of silence and then the birds began chirping again like wild. The feeling in my arm dissipated. I wanted to believe that maybe it was the witch thanking me for picking up the trash, but the manor in which they left made me question. I’m not sure who was in the cemetery this morning but it was surly the most thrilling contact I’ve had since interacting with the witches grave.