My name is Michael, and I run a paranormal website dedicated to urban legends and paranormal rumors in Buncombe County. It’s not a popular site by any stretch of the imagination, but it gets a fair amount of attention. The emails that I like, I’ll post the story and visit the site mentioned in the email. Then, I’ll post my follow-up investigation a few days later after the original post. I receive a couple of stories each month, most of them tired ghost stories or obviously made-up tragedies. One email, however, caught my attention.
A few days ago, I received an email from a person named, BuncoBum, that was simply titled “The Second House.”” An odd name, as it’s not inherently scary or off-putting, but I review everything that I’m sent. I’ll summarize the contents of the story. Around 1865, a family, the Hanagees, had built a manor on ten acres of land, just outside the city limits of Asheville. The land in question was mainly woods, except for a small area that contained the manor. There is another structure, much smaller and plainer, that exists somewhere in the woods as well, used for ritual sacrifices, or so the story claims at least. The Hanagees had performed several of the aforementioned sacrifices in this building, both human and animal in nature. They were only discovered several years after the construction, when concerned parents came calling for their missing daughter, who they knew were friends with one of the sons. The father- Ralph Hanagee, the mother Mary Hanagee, their two sons- David and Sam Hanagee, and daughter- Sarah Hanagee, were all convicted for the murder of three women. People claim that there are numerous other bodies buried on that property that the authorities haven’t, or refused to, discover. People say that you can still hear the screams of the victims when the wind blows just right and that the blood stains are a permanent reminder of the horror that took place in that house. There is a slight problem, however. Nobody really knows if this second house even exists. It’s all just rumors and speculation.
The reason this submission caught my eye was that I’ve actually heard of the “Hanagee hauntings.” Over the course of several emails, they emailed me some audio and video files of different paranormal investigations of the site, as well as several links to various articles. As far as I can tell, this story might actually have some merit. The articles claimed that police had raided the manor, and it was deemed perfectly ordinary. Nothing was mentioned about devil worship or ritual sacrifices. Bodies, however, were definitely found on the premise; The Hanagees claiming they were accidental deaths due to the victim’s own fault. There seems to be a legitimate paranormal activity happening in the other files, too, but it’s all too easy to fake this kind of stuff these days. Some poltergeist activity in one video, a shadow figure in another, and spooky noises and voices in the audio files. I’ll admit it, though. I was hooked, even if I was a bit skeptical. The lure of a good mystery and possible ghost encounters was too strong. I decided to post the story and head out to check out the estate myself over the weekend.
I had received special permission from the mayor to stay on the property for that weekend, so waiting for me when I arrived in the morning was a police car and a slightly annoyed officer. He told me that the property was safe, and as far as he could tell, there wasn’t anyone else living on, or around, the premises. After handing me the keys to the manor, he informed me that he’ll be back Monday morning to check in on me and make sure that I was still alive and in one piece. He also made sure that I knew, in no uncertain terms, that this was a huge waste of his time and mine.
“I don’t even know why you’re bothering to check this place out. The only thing you’ll find is tetanus and mold. People have been searching these woods for decades and never found so much as a doghouse. What makes you think that you will be the one to find it? Well, when you finish having your sleepover with Bigfoot, I’ll be here waiting for your stories about how the guy is actually just misunderstood and that he really enjoys finger painting.”
I just glared back at him. Fucking douche. He gave a shake of his head, threw up his hands and walked back to his car. Right before he closed the car door, I managed to stammer out
“Bi-bigfoot doesnt exist!”
Ha, got him. As he drove away, I took in the scene. It was a cloudless, sunny day, almost cheery. There was a slight breeze and the temperature was moderate. This all clashed directly with the manor itself. A massive, three story Victorian mansion straight out of a horror movie. Most of the windows seemed to be boarded up or busted out. Only a few flakey, black shutters remained attached, and even those were just barely hanging on. The exterior was a faded light green, the paint peeling from centuries of neglect. The roof looked as if it was covered in ash and had numerous holes dotted throughout. All the weathervanes were bent at sharp angles or broken in two. To complete this ominous image, there was an iron finial trident fence surrounding the manor’s lawn, with a large front gate to enter through. The entrance had a heading that read “Hanagee Manor” and it was covered with cobwebs. I could see why this place had a reputation for being a haunted, it certainly looked the part.
Another thing i noticed about the whole scene, was the lawn. It was perfectly maintained up till about ten feet from the house itself. The grass and weeds were almost as tall as the first floor windows. It was as if whoever cut the grass refused to actually go near the place. This place actually gave me the creeps, and that is saying something. I stuck a large crude iron key into the front gate’s lock and entered the premises. As I walked closer to the front door, out of the corner of my eye, I saw curtains move slightly, as if someone had moved them aside to peer out at me. Impossible. At least that’s what I told myself. After a heavy sigh and some self-scolding, I walked up the dilapidated steps, carefully avoiding the holes strategically placed to twist ankles, and unlocked the front door with a smaller more intricate key. I stuffed both keys back into my jeans pocket and opened the door. The door made a predictably ominous squeal as it swung open. I stepped inside, ready to begin my investigation.
Now, I know this house is not the focus of the trip, but if you’re going to do something, do it thoroughly. That’s what I tell my friends during dinner anyway. As I walked through the door, most people would tell you the smell is what they noticed first, but not me. I can’t smell. So to me, three things stuck out to me. The first thing I noticed was just how…old the place looked and felt. It was if this place were stuck in the 1800s and had outright refused to move forward with the rest of the world. The walls were covered with a sickely yellow, floral-pattern wallpaper of ages past. A massive chandelier hung overhead the entrance, cobwebs engulfing the candles, arms, and main body. There were twin, curved staircases on opposites sides of a gigantic fireplace leading up to the second floor. The spokes in between the railings and steps were also covered in cobwebs. I’ve said the word cobwebs too many times now I feel. Just know that shit is everywhere and on everything. With the way this house was looking I was surprised to see that there wasn’t- ah never mind, there it is. A suit of armor, complete with sword, stood in a corner guarding a nearby window from any feline intruders. How cliché can this place get?
The Second thing I noticed was how much natural sunlight was entering the manor. It was almost like having the lights on. You could clearly see the dust particles floating around from where I had walked. This all meant that noise and outisde light contamination was very likely, and dust particals could be mistaken for orbs. Any hauntings here would be very hard to prove.
The final thing I noticed was the lack of any personal paraphernalia. No pictures, no tapestries, no furnishings of any sort besides the armor. There wasn’t even a welcome mat. It was actually quite eerie, as if they buit this place just to rot empty and abandoned. the floor groaned and squeaked loudly as I moved to the spot I thought I saw movement earlier. Just as I thought. The breeze from outisde was occasionally making the curtains flutter slightly. No ghost here. I wish I could say that the rest of the house was interesting or that something unusual happened, but that would be a lie. Well, I did manage to get a shallow cut on my palm from the staircase. That was nothing to worry about though. The sun was starting to set by the time I had finished looking the house over. Sensing no weird energies at any point, I decided to go to my car and gather my camping supplies. Phase one was complete, time for phase two. Phase two was scouting the woods at night.
With ten acres of land to scour over, this was not going to be easy. I always come prepared though. I had a compass, plenty of food and water, a flashlight with extra batteries, and my ghost hunting equipment. Oh, and my hunting knife juuuust in case. There was no clear entrance to the woods located behind the manor, so I just picked a random spot and started walking. The trees were your typical pines and oaks. Nothing too spooky or foreboding about them. About half of a mile in a checked my compass to make sure I was still headed west, to the center of the woods. I was on the right track, so I decided now would be a good time to try and record an EVP, eltronic voice phenomenon, or maybe detect an EMF, electric magnetic field. I pulled out the EMF detector and recieved not a peep. No noises, no lights, nothing. I put that away and pulled out my digital recorder. I asked the standard questions like who is here, how did you die, whats your name, etc. After listening back and hesring nothing but sound of my own voice and the local insects, I gave up. I gave a sad sigh,
“Maybe I hyped myself for nothing”
I put the recorder away as well, hoisted my bag back onto my shoulders, and kept walking. Now, I know I said that the woods weren’t spooky earlier, but that was when I could somewhat see. Now that the sun had set the whole vibe of this place had changed. I fumbled for my flashlight, took it out of the side pouch, and quickly switched it on. Shining the beam everywhere as fast as I could to spot any potential threats. Just trees and rocks. I was being silly, working myself up over rumors. My hand was beginning to bother me now but I paid it no mind, a little bit of pain wouldn’t kill me. I checked my watch, 9:36 pm. I had been walking for almost two hours now. I let the bag drop from my shoulders to the ground, and took out my thermos and three oatmeal cakes.
Halfway through the 2nd cake I could have sworn I heard a voice in the distance. I froze mid bite. The line about voices on the wind came to mind. With my mouth full I managed to say “Hello? Who’s there?” No reply. I waved the flashlight beam in small arcs in the direction where I thought I heard the voice. A face. A fucking face was just visible behind a tree some hundred feet away. I almost choked to death right there. Downing the remains of water and gasping I struggled to my feet and unsheathed my knife from my side. I concentrated the beam where the face had been but it was gone. I was visibly shaking now. Oh shit the rumors were real, this place IS haunted! Despite every instinct in my body screaming at me to run away, I approached the tree. I had to be sure. As I drew near, I raised my knife and jumped to the other side of the tree.
“FREEZE!” I yelled at the empty space in front of me. I put my knife away and slammed my now free hand against the tree in frustration, which re-opened my cut causing more pain and fresh blood to flow.
I gave a yelp of pain
“This is fucking ridiculous, why am I even out here still?!”
I walked back to my bag to grab some bandages. It was gone. The bag was simply not there. “Oh shit, this is to much” I ran my good hand through my hair, barely holding back tears. Someone was out here with me and I was in danger. All I had left now was my light and my knife. It hurt to hold the flashlight however, and the blood was starting flow more freely from my heart getting worked up, adding to the difficulty of holding it. I growled “Fuck this I am done” and sprinted toward what I hoped was East. It was difficult not trip on roots and rocks in my frenzied escape, and I managed to fall a few times. Suddenly, I could hear the sounds of something or someone moving at a fast pace as well somewhere behind me, but I was not going to look. I couldn’t look. I tried to take several turns, zig zag, but the sound of running was constantly behind me, just dozens of feet away.
“Leave me alone!” I shrieked.
Fear was making my voice crack. Tears were blurring my vision now. I was fleeing on almost pure instinct, hardly seeing where I was going. My chest was heaving now, my side screaming in agony. This is it, I thought, it’s over. I was slowing down, not by much, but definitely slowing down. As I made another sharp turn, wheezing and flailing, I fell off a small cliff. I gave a sharp cry into the night as I fell some ten feet down. Landing hard on my feet. I twisted my right ankle severely, making me bellow in pain. I quickly threw a hand over my mouth dropping my flashlight. I tucked my knife in between my armpit and cut the light off, leaving myself in total darkness.
The sounds of the forest, you know the ones- cicadas, crickets, owls, etc. They were gone. A ringing silence enveloped me. It was only ruined when I heard shuffling foot steps above me. I almost passed out from fear. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could and silently prayed to every god in existence, oh God, please let me make it through the night! Let me live! Please! The shuffling footsteps continued on down, closer to me, and closer, and closer. The footsteps stopped mere feet away from me just outside of my vision. Thank God the cliff face was just deep enough to hide me from plain sight. I clamped my hand even harder over my nose and mouth, barely allowing a thin stream of air to exit my nostrils. I was shaking so bad I thought the rattling of my bones would give me away. Surely the sound of my heart hammering against my ribcage would give me away. But then, the worst noise of all happened, a deep, animal like grunt came from the stranger. One of frustration and anger it seemed. It was so. Fucking. Close. I peed myself. I hoped beyond hope that the stranger wouldn’t smell it. Suddenly, a howl burst from the stranger, almost causing me to scream. It ran off into the night, away from me.
I couldn’t believe it, I was alive. Hurt but blessedly alive! I thanked every God that I could think of, promising each one to devote myself to it. After several long, tense minutes I found myself able to move again. I could walk, but barely. Then I made the dumbest decision I could, I picked up my flashlight and knife, and then started walking back the way I came. I had no idea where I was going, I just had to move, I had to get out of here. I moved at a snail’s pace, as i was trying to make as little noise as possible and my ankle was far from stable. I looked at my watch again, 1:19 am. It was going to be a long night. After stumbling through the woods for what felt like forever, I saw a light peering around some trees. I quickly ducked behind a nearby rock.
“Michael?”
I heard a male voice shout. Who in God’s name knows I’m out here? The voice came again
“Michael! It’s me BuncoBum! Where are you?”
Holy shit it’s a miracle. I staggered out from behind the rock, waving my light
“I’m right here!”
I managed to weakly reply. I then fell to the ground, my ankle shrieking with agony and my hand feeling numb. As my light traveled over him, it revealed a lean but muscular man, bald with a neatly trimmed goatee. He was wearing a dirty flannel shirt and ripped jeans. He sprinted over to me
“Oh thank God, when you didn’t answer any of your texts I thought something must have happened to you, turns out I was right.”
He bent over, picked me up, and put my arm around his neck and then put his arm behind my back. I was saved. I groaned, “We need to get out of here, now”.
“What happened to you? Did you see something? Did you see the house? Run into the Hanagees?”
I cut him off “Stop talking and just move, we have to get out of here.” I didn’t have the energy to reply to his questions. He clearly wanted to keep asking more but refrained. After we’ve been walking for several minutes he began to talk again
“Man, I can’t believe I stumbled onto you. You’re so lucky. Who knows what would have happened to you if I hadn’t showed up when I did. Woods can be a dangerous place you know.”
My brain wasn’t running at full capacity, but I could still pick up on the weirdness of this situation. It really was lucky he found me, and why would he be trying to text me? It wasn’t adding up for some reason. While I was lost in thought, he tripped over some exposed roots. He fell, dropping me as well, and gave a loud grunt. An animal like grunt. A familiar grunt. A cold realization flooded me and a deep chill ran down my spine. I gave a sharp intake of air, which I was able to disguise as pain thankfully. My whole body was on full alert now. “Sorry about that, I must have missed the root there” he gave a light chuckle and propped me up again i weakly smiled and replied
“No-no worries man. It’s dark.”
He gave me a nod of appreciation and we continued walking. The manor was just now visible beyond the tree line.
“Ah, we’re almost back!” He said cheerfully. “I’m going to take you inside to let you rest while I call the cops for you.”
I gave the tiniest of nods. He wasn’t going to do that, he was going to kill me in there. Just as we were approaching the tree line, he stumbled again, this time knocking me over sending my sprawling to the ground, flashlight and knife flying out of my hands and into the darkness. “Whoops, my bad” he said as if he had merely bumped into me in a crowd. He picked me and led me towards the house and away from my protection.
He opened the house and lead me to the stairs, putting me down gently.
“Now I’ll be right back, don’t you move”
He chuckled to himself and walked up the stairs and out of sight. I closed my eyes, Oh God! I’ve been an idiot! This whole thing was a trap just to get me killed. There were no sacrifices, no ghosts, no second house; just a crazy asshole who gets off on killing innocent people. I slowly stood up, trying my best to avoid making any noise. I manged to get halfway across the floor when I heard
“Hey, where ya going?”
I turned around to see him standing at the the top of the stairs case, above the fire place, his arms draped over the railing. He had a friendly, curious look on his face, like he was talking to a drunk friend. My mind raced
“I- I was just testing out my ankle man, it still hurts alot and I don’t know if I can walk on it just yet.”
I lied about the last part, I could walk and would. He seemed to really take pleasure in the last part, as he gave a wide smile and said “come on up here, there’s a bed you can rest on while we wait. The cops should be here soon.”
He turned and walked away. I thought to myself, there ain’t shit up there but my death. I looked around desperately for something to use. Anything! Then I remembered it, the sword, oh my God the fucking sword. I limped over to the suit. It was just about my size too. I had an idea. Several minutes later the man re-appeared, seemingly agitated now.
“Michael, you need to get some rest. If you can’t make it up the stairs then I’ll just have to come get you.”
He made his way down the staircase, Using the moon and stars as lights to help guide him. He froze at the bottom of the stairs, looking around slowly.
“Michael?”
I could see him turning around in a circle trying to locate me. Then I saw him bring out an object that looked like a knife up to chest height.
“I can’t help you if you don’t let me Michael.” He cooed softly.
As he wondered around the room he kept softly calling for me, telling me that he would hate for something bad to happen to me. He neared the suit of armor, stopped and looked at it. As he gaze traveled up and down it, he seemed to notice something around the hips. He gazed more intently
“what the fu-“
I didn’t let him finish. I thrust my unarmored hand up to his eyes and smeared my bloody palm all over his face and eyes. He let out a yell of shock and confusion. He swung his knife wildly in a blind panic but he missed by several feet. I then let out a war-cry, and drove the sword straight towards his chest. The sword went in easier than I expected. The exertion caused me to fall to the ground, my ankle unable to support all this new weight anymore. He let out a gasp of pain and dropped the knife. Eyes wide he stared into the mask of the armor, the armor I was in, and I stared back. He crumpled to the ground, clutching at the sword now lodged in his chest, as the life drained out of him. I laid there beside him, letting everything that happened finally set in.
After I was able to scrape myself together mentally, I looked over to see if he was still alive. Blank, green eyes stared back at me. A part of me almost wanted to find my digital recorder and see if his spirit was still around. Almost. I exited the suit and limped out to my car. It cranked without hesitation. Seems like he didn’t expect me to make it out of there alive. I drove back to town and filed a police report and was promplty sent to the hospital.
A week had passed since then. The police told me that the guy’s name was Randle Thorpe, a suspected serial killer now proven. The investigation of the house led to the discovery of a false wall behind the fire place. There were five bodies in total stuffed in there. Women and men of different ages and races, but all were amateur paranormal researchers. Turns out that cop from before is actually a pretty nice guy, just a little prejudiced when it comes to ghost and cryptids. His name is Parker and he let me keep the helmet as some kind of macabre trophy, but not the rest of the armor or the sword because it’s “evidence”. I’m seeing a therapist now and she suggested I retell the story as a coping mechanism. Maybe after recounting this so many times it’ll become “normal”. It hasn’t worked. I still hear howls at night, see intruders in the shadows, and my dreams are haunted by those dead, green eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of this nightmare, but I do know one thing for sure. I’ll never go searching for ghosts again.