Union Cemetery

On Route 59 in Easton, Connecticut, where the road runs past Union Cemetery, drivers say they have hit a woman in white. They feel the impact. They get out shaking. And the road is empty.

In 1993, as the account is passed around, an off-duty firefighter was driving that stretch when a woman darted in front of his truck. The hit felt solid. When he stopped, there was a dent in his vehicle and no one anywhere on the road. He wasn't the first, and he wasn't the last. The pattern keeps repeating along that one junction, drivers describing the same impact and the same empty asphalt afterward. There is no contemporaneous news report behind the 1993 account — it's lore tied to a date, passed down through retellings rather than logged anywhere official.

Locals call her the White Lady: a young woman with long dark hair in a pale, gown-like dress, seen in the cemetery and on the roads around it. She is why Union Cemetery gets called the most haunted in Connecticut.

The cemetery is real and old. The oldest surviving headstone, Ebenezer Hubbell's, dates to 1761 — a year before the Connecticut Colony even recognized the parish. It has been mapped, restored, and documented down to the names. But the White Lady's identity has never been pinned down. The Easton historical society went looking and could only offer candidates — two women named Harriet Seeley whose records survive — and even then admitted that neither matches the legend precisely. One 1940s version of the story has her as a murder victim, though the tellers can't agree on who killed whom.

Ed and Lorraine Warren made the cemetery a primary research site. They lived less than a mile away, staked it out late at night, and wrote a whole book about it in 1992. They said they caught her on video. "We do have the White Lady on camera," Lorraine Warren said. "Who she is, we do not know."

That last part is the only thing everyone agrees on.