The Bunnyman Origins

It is the turn of the twentieth century. 1904 to be exact. Rain buckets down beyond the thin pains of glass encapsulated in the asylum bus’s windows. In the dark of the cold, wet night, lie an unruly bunch of passengers. The bus is filled with some of the most dangerous patients the Clifton asylum has ever seen. The men within this vehicle have committed some of the most heinous, unspeakable acts imaginable. All of the passengers on this bus have been deemed criminally insane.

The patients are being transported to the nearby Lorton prison. As the bus winds its way down the slipper Virginia roads, the driver suddenly loses control of the vehicle. The bus spins out of control, and suddenly begins to roll. Glass shatters wildly as bodies are flung about like rag dolls.

Eventually, the metal shell comes to a rest. Most of the passengers, as well as the driver, are dead. It is absolute carnage. And still the rain persists. It buckets relentlessly on the survivors, who quickly disappear like shadows into the treeline.

The following morning, officials make their way to the accident scene. For some, the sight is too ghastly to bear.

  • Right now a woman screamed, cat screeched, my dogs went ballistic – I’m already on edge from writing this

Bodies flung wildly about, blood spatters lacing the surrounding roads and walls, and wreckage beyond imagination lies before the eyes of the officers. The bus had smashed into a small bridge, one which trains frequently pass over. This just adds to the eeriness of the entire setting. Every once in a while, the feint whilst of the hourly train, and its methodical clacking along the rails can be heard drawing nearer in the distance.

A few who can no longer stand the thought of reporting what they see before them, volunteer to fan out and search the woods for the missing convicts. Hours pass as the officers comb meticulously through the trees. In drips and drabs, various patients are returned back to the bus site. All of which go into wild fits upon the site of the bus wreckage. The officers gather to count the patients. Amidst the languageless coos and screeches of the patients, they realise two are still unaccounted for. Marcus Wallster, and Douglas J. Griffin are yet to be found.

A smaller group of officers are left to search the woods once again, while the rest of the force escorts the rattled inmates to their final destination. As the day turns to the deepening shadows of night, the remaining officers begin to feel a looming awareness of something watching them. They were not alone in the woods. And their companion was in no way benign. This spooked the officers sufficiently to call it a day, and make their way back to the station. They reasoned amidst themselves that the morning light would give them better visibility to search with.

However, had they known what the morning held for them, they would’ve gladly continued the night before.

Once more, the men set out through the woods, this time with more officers afoot to help quicken the search. Suddenly, from the party nearest the bridge, a guttural shriek can be heard as an officer stumbles across what seems to be a scene straight from a horror film.

Hung in the trees around him are several rabbits. All have been skinned and mutilated. However, the most disturbing thing about this scene is that each rabbit has had flesh torn from it, by what officers can make out as human bite marks.

The officer sinks to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. When his comrades begin to join him, murmurs of disgust ripple through the crowd. One man vomits to the right, another lets out a gasp and clutches his mouth. However, this was merely the appetiser of visual assaults to come.

As the men made their way through the sea of dangling rabbits, back towards the bridge meeting point, they stopped dead in their tracks. Hanging before them was the lifeless corpse of what would later be identified as Marcus Wallster. The flayed man dangled before their eyes. His body utterly mutilated, disembowelled, and bitten. As the men looked on in horror, their eyes grew wider when they realise the missing chunks of flesh were once again caused by human teeth marks.

Cries of anguish ring out from the group as none can make sense of this. One officer suddenly cries out

“there’s a note!”

To their disbelief, the men see that tied to the foot of the hanging corpse is a small, neatly written note which reads

“You’ll never find me, no matter how hard you try! Signed, The Bunnyman”

Police then realised the horror story being written right before their eyes. Douglas J. Griffin was still very much alive. Days passed. Douglas remained missing. However, some officers report that when they had ventured into the woods, they had heard maniacal laughter follow them as they went.

Later, officers discover the reason for Douglas Griffin’s admission into the asylum. On Easter Sunday, in 1902, something flipped in Griffin. He made his way from the family dinner table, to the shed outside the house. Perplexed, his family sat in awe of their father abandoning them.

Suddenly, Griffin re-emerged, with a wooden handled hatchet in hand. He began to swing wildly, tearing flesh from bone and limb from child. Screams filled the dining room, however, they were drowned out by the eerie, maniacal laughter emitting from Douglas as he swung.

Neighbours rushed to the home, horrified by what they heard. But the visual far outweighed the audio. All of Griffins children were slain, along with his wife of ten years. Griffin looked to his neighbour with a mad grin spreading across his bloodied face, beckoning him with his hatchet. Being a much larger man, the neighbour tackled Griffin to the floor, disarming him and knocking him unconscious. His wife, bereft with grief screamed to her children to not come a single step closer, and hurried them back towards their home.

Upon learning this, the officers are thoroughly shook. They now understand the urgency which they need to find Griffin with. However, it is too late.

A hysterical woman has just called in a double homicide. And the scene of the crime is none other than the Bunnyman bridge.

As the officers reluctantly walk towards the scene, one bursts into floods of tears upon the sight. Two small girls can be seen, swaying lifelessly from the bridge. As their small bodies sway back and forth, governed by the thin ropes hovering above their heads like hovering golden twine, that same, madman laughter can be heard cackling from behind them.

The officers quickly turn and see a man darting away into the thick of the wood. Desperate not to lose him, the team takes off in a rush.

“You can’t catch me!”

The words ring through the trees, almost taunting the officers as they run towards the crazed man. Suddenly, they realise they have made a full circle s they see Griffin standing on the train tracks above the bridge.

The man is standing, waving at them, cackling at the top of his lungs. The officers are alarmed by the sound of the oncoming train. Its horn blares in an attempt to ward the criminal off the tracks, the officers speed up in a desperate attempt to get to the man before the train does, but neither win.

The train smashes into the man, his cackles being the last thing left ringing in the devastated officers’ ears.

These are the devastatingly traumatic origin tales of the Virginia  Bunnyman.

They are also, one hundred and fifty billion percent fake. But goodness I had a time writing them.

Yes folks, my spooky fireside story was an amalgamation of many Bunnyman origin tales all blended into one. However, these were disproved by the vigorous work and years of research put into this topic by Brian A. Conley.

  • First off, the prisoner patients were in transit in 1904, headed for the Lorton prison. The Lorton prison was only constructed in 1910.
  • Next, the Fairfax Clifton area never had an asylum.
  • In the Timothy C. Forbes version of the story, while it all seems very plausible, he states that all of his facts can be verified in the “Old Clifton Library”. Never in the history of ever has this library existed.
  • Finally, and probably the most pertinent part of the facts being disproved, no record of Douglas J. Griffin exists. Anywhere, in any asylum or any birth record during that time.

However, even though the origin tales of the Bunnyman are all hokum, the story became alive in its own right. For years, ghost stories of this fiendish being hung around the area like the victims of the mythical Douglas Griffin.

To this day, it is said that if you walk under the bridge on Halloween night, you will meet the same grizzly end as Marcus Wallster. However, not all tales of the Bunnyman are false.

Cue the 70’s