The Graves of Annie Mary

IMAGINE A DAY like any other. You’ve spent your allotted time working. You’ve finished all that needed doing. At long last, it’s time for some fun. You choose a favorite activity, one you’ve enjoyed countless times before. You laugh. You play. All is well in the world—until something goes terribly wrong.

You slip. You fall. You black out.

Imagine opening your eyes, only you’re not entirely sure they’re open. You’re lying on your back, surrounded by a darkness you’ve never experienced before.

You sit up, or at least you try. You hit your head before moving more than a few inches. You quickly bring up your hands. They scrape the wooden barrier above you. You’re trapped inside a tiny box, and you are completely alone.

Now imagine you’re six years old.

So began one of the most tragic, most disturbing ghostly tales in Minnesota history. The year was 1886. Richard and Lizzie Twente lived on a farm in south-western Minnesota’s Albin Township (south of Sleepy Eye) with their five children, including Annie Mary.

For the sweet, six-year-old girl, October 24 began as a typical day. Unfortunately, it became anything but normal when Annie Mary fell from a hayloft and slipped into a coma.

Her father was not a model parent. In fact, Richard was known by neighbors for his fits of rage and his “unstable” mental condition. One of his most notorious acts of insanity occurred on a cold winter day. Richard became consumed by the notion that his family was in danger—although from what no one knows. He forced his family onto a sled and trekked across the prairie with no destination in mind. It is likely that they all would have frozen to death if Lizzie had not convinced her husband to return home.

Given Richard’s reckless behavior, it came as little surprise that, upon discovering his unconscious daughter, he did not consult a physician.

“She’s dying,” he declared wildly. “Lung fever is going to take my little girl from me!”

Two days later, on October 26, Richard pronounced Annie Mary dead. He buried her at Iberia Cemetery.

What happened next is uncertain. Many believe Lizzie was plagued by nightmares. Others claim Richard feared that grave robbers would steal his daughter’s body. Regardless of the reason, the Twente family dug up Annie Mary’s body, and what they reportedly found was the most ghastly of horrors.

The coffin’s interior was riddled with scratch marks. Annie Mary’s fingernails were bloody. Torn chunks of hair were clenched inside her fists. The little girl’s face was a mask of terror. She had been buried alive, and the ordeal had killed her.

The Twentes were overwhelmed with grief (so much so that Richard was eventually committed to the state hospital in Saint Peter). They moved their daughter’s body to a new gravesite, one that overlooked their farm and the adjacent road from atop a nearby hill.

Richard built a wooden fence around Annie Mary’s burial plot to protect her from evils known only to him. Later, he decided that the wooden fence wasn’t enough. In its place, he built a stone wall and added a locked iron gate at its opening.

As legend has it, the wall and its gate may have kept unwanted visitors out, but they could not keep Annie Mary’s spirit within.

“Look at that,” said a man traveling on horseback. He gestured toward the hillside. The ghostly figure of a child stood, staring at him, her white dress shining.

The man’s horse reared. His companion’s did the same. Despite their most vigorous coaxings, the animals refused to venture any closer to Annie Mary’s grave. The two travelers were forced to find an alternate route.

It was an encounter rumored to have repeated itself dozens of times with any number of different riders, for it was said that animals could sense the poor girl’s spirit. No beast would willingly venture near her gravesite.

Similarly, in later years, motorists often experienced car troubles as they passed the mysterious location. Headlights failed, and vehicles inexplicably stalled.

For more than a century, Annie Mary haunted that hillside and its surrounding areas. However, time was not kind to her resting place. The walls became cracked and damaged. Her tombstone was uprooted from its base. The gate was removed completely. Worse yet, Annie Mary’s gravesite was a frequent target of vandals. Over the years, far too many teenagers trespassed upon the property, and many of them dug into the ground or stole pieces of the stone monument built by Annie Mary’s father.

At last, in 1996, the girl’s body and presumably her spirit were finally put to rest. Her remains were disinterred, and Annie Mary was buried for the third time. Today, she lies next to her parents at a cemetery in northern Minnesota.

As for her hilltop monument, that too is gone. The stone wall was demolished, the trees were cut down, and the land was planted over.

Those who live near Albin Township know this story well, and they will not soon forget the infamous location of Annie Mary’s burial plot. However, they are grateful—as we all should be—that, after more than a hundred years and three burials, Annie Mary finally found peace.