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The Ghost Pilgrim of Plymouth Urban Legend

The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth(1914). By Jennie A. Brownscombe. It is now housed in Pilgrim Hall Museum in Plymouth, Massachusetts

Plymouth, Massachusetts, holds a special place in American history as the site where the Pilgrims settled in 1620 after arriving on the Mayflower. The town’s cobblestone streets, historic landmarks, and connection to the first Thanksgiving make it a destination for history buffs and holiday enthusiasts alike. But amidst the celebrations and historical reverence, an eerie tale often emerges during Thanksgiving season:The Ghost Pilgrim of Plymouth Urban Legend.

The Legend


Forty-five of the 102 Mayflower passengers died in the winter of 1620–21. They suffered from starvation, scurvy, and lack of shelter.

People say the Ghost Pilgrim is the restless spirit of a settler who died during Plymouth’s harsh early winters. The first winter of 1620–1621 was brutal, with nearly half of the Mayflower’s passengers succumbing to starvation, disease, and exposure. According to the legend, one of these settlers—a man whose name is now unknown—was so haunted by the unfulfilled promise of the New World that his spirit still haunts Plymouth today.

Locals and visitors have reported sightings of the Ghost Pilgrim near Plymouth Rock and the town’s historic burial grounds. Storytellers describe him as a somber figure in 17th-century clothing, including a wide-brimmed hat and a cloak. Witnesses claim he silently observes Thanksgiving celebrations from a distance, as if longing to partake in the abundance and joy he never knew.

Origins of the Story
On Cole Hill, sits a Sarcophagus housing the remains of 50 or more recovered bones of the earliest settlers.

The legend of the Ghost Pilgrim likely grew out of the town’s deep connection to the Pilgrims and their struggles. Plymouth’s history, full of stories of loss and resilience, created fertile ground for ghostly lore. The first mention of the Ghost Pilgrim appeared in local oral traditions in the 19th century, when Spiritualism—a movement focused on communicating with the dead—was gaining popularity in the United States. Over time, people have continued to share the story, merging history and folklore.

Reported Encounters

Many of the reported sightings occur during Thanksgiving week, when the town is bustling with visitors. Some claim to feel a cold, inexplicable chill while touring Pilgrim sites. Others describe seeing a shadowy figure disappearing into the mist near Plymouth Rock. A few even recount strange occurrences at their Thanksgiving tables, such as flickering candles or the inexplicable movement of objects, which they attribute to the Ghost Pilgrim.

One of the most famous tales involves a family visiting Plymouth for Thanksgiving in the 1970s. They claimed to have seen a man in Pilgrim attire standing in their hotel room late at night. When they called out to him, he vanished without a trace.

The Legacy of the Ghost Pilgrim
The bodies of the pilgrims were buried on Cole Hill. However, fearing the American Indians might view their reduced numbers as an opportunity to attack, the surviving colonists leveled the burial mounds and planted a crop over the grave site. Unfortunately, the storm of 1735 unearthed the human remains and washed them into the harbor.

The Ghost Pilgrim of Plymouth adds an air of mystery to the town’s already rich history. For some, it’s a reminder of the hardships endured by the early settlers. For others, it’s a creepy tale to share around the Thanksgiving table.

The legend continues to draw curious visitors to Plymouth, blending the spirit of Thanksgiving with the intrigue of the supernatural.

Flash Fiction


The Last Seat at the Table

At the Jennings’ farmhouse, laughter echoed through the halls, mingled with the aroma of roasted turkey, cinnamon-spiced pies, and Aunt Peg’s famous stuffing. Maggie’s favorite holiday was here.

But she sensed something different. An uneasy feeling swept over her as she set the table. An extra chair. She counted twice. Thirteen chairs. “Who’s the extra seat for?” she asked her father as he basted the turkey.

“What extra seat? There’s twelve of us,” he said.

“But there are thirteen chairs.” Maggie pointed. The chair sat at the far end of the table, perfectly aligned, a pristine plate and silverware in place.

Her dad chuckled. “Your cousins are messing around with you. Ignore it. They’ll confess eventually.”

Uninvited

“Turkey time, everybody,” Maggie’s mom shouted.

The extra chair remained untouched yet eerily present, with no one claiming responsibility. The family gathered. Maggie ignored the seat as her father suggested. Conversations bounced around the room. Grandpa reminisced about Thanksgivings past, Aunt Peg gushed about her latest recipe, and the younger cousins debated which dessert they’d conquer first.

Halfway through dinner, Maggie noticed the plate at the extra seat wasn’t empty anymore. A slice of turkey sat there, alongside a scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy, and cranberries. She blinked. A fork hovered in midair. She pointed. Eyes wide. Mouth open.

Silence. Everyone stared. The air grew colder. A draft swept through the room, rattling the windows. The chandelier flickered. Maggie’s mother stood to adjust the thermostat but froze mid-step. A man stood at the head of the table.

Pilgrim’s Ghost

He was pale, almost translucent, dressed in old-fashioned clothing—a high-collared shirt, a waistcoat, and breeches. His hollow eyes scanned the room, and his mouth curved into a somber smile. “Thank you,” he whispered. His voice carried an accent, archaic yet clear.

“Wh-who are you?” Maggie’s father asked.

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he put the fork to his mouth and took a bite of turkey. The food disappeared as the empty fork dangled. When he’d finished, he stood, tipped his hat, and said, “You’ve honored my memory well. Blessings to you all.” And was gone. The chair remained empty for the rest of the night.

Later

After dinner, Maggie found an old journal in the attic. Inside was a name—Nathaniel Jennings. He had been a Pilgrim, one of the original settlers, and an ancestor of their family. According to the journal, he had died of starvation during the first winter in Plymouth.

From that year on, the Jennings family always set an extra plate at Thanksgiving. No one ever mentioned the man again, but they all knew he was watching, waiting, and, in some strange way, grateful.


For more Urban Legends check out my other creepy blogs.

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Clara Bush
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2 replies on “The Ghost Pilgrim of Plymouth Urban Legend”

Just right for today’s holiday! I’d not heard of the Ghost Pilgrim before. Very interesting, and probably some truth to it. I liked the story of the family around the table and setting an extra plate.
Hope you and your family has been enjoying Thanksgiving! 🙂

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