The first apparent lie is the tradition of referring to that in unison as a bridge. At least, that is not what you imagine when you hear the word “bridge”. It’s an overgrown overpass. One among the many you could drive through on a trip in Virginia.

There is a particular urban legend associated with the location. It’s only 50 years old, but already slowly fading with the passage of time. They say some elder ghost is terrorizing the settlements around the bridge. They call him the rabbit man. Thus, the bridge is the “Bunny Man Bridge”.

The man is told to appear every Halloween or around that time. Equipped with an axe, he walks along rural American roads deep in the dark of the night.

The first event associated with the cryptid was on October 19th (in other versions 22nd) of 1970. Robert Benett and his girlfriend were driving through the Fairfax County to visit the man’s relatives. They stopped on the side of the road; the headlights peering into the midnight darkness of the gravel path.

Something jumped out of the nearby bushes. A man with some kind of white accessory on his head. He screamed gibberish along the lines of “Stay off my private property!” and threw a hatchet into the windshield. Then the stranger proceeded to hop his way back to the shrubs.

The police arrived soon, but the forest was free of any strange men. For locals, this became a huge deal, despite the police being unable to find any signs of the criminal. The hatchet was tellingly truly embedded in the car’s hood.

“The man was wearing thin rabbit ears on top of his hat”, claimed Robert. “No rabbits were there truthfully. A capirote or some kind of upright, pointed hood. That’s what the man had.”, argued the gf.

Then the weird newcomer returned ten days later, on Halloween. The man-in-rabbit-clothing was seen on the porch of a house still under construction. The guard of the place noticed the trespasser and approached to stop the guy. The Man had a huge axe in his hands he used to chop on the wooden steps. His tall ears flopping with each swing.

“All you people trespassing again.”

The guard backed away and went to find a telephone to call the cops. From afar, he saw the cryptic Man hippity-hopping from the porch into the woods.

In both instances, the man was in his 20s, five-foot-eight. No idea about the identity.

The investigation lasted for some more time. The police examined all the nearby costume stores, of which there was exactly one. Only three people bought a rabbit mask over the past year. All three were unaware of the crimes.

However, there are many more stories I could find online that tell of the offender. One person says one thing. The other adds details. The third writes a sequel.

These plots inspire each other, grow into a lattice of beliefs and views, fears and idols.

One tale that some of you could stumble upon yourselves is a compiled creepypasta, circling around the 2000s. It became the most complete history of the creature.

That version tells of the two ward patients who ran away in the fall of 1904.

The man’s popularity spikes up every October. To a degree that the police was requested numerous times to fully block the traffic heading to the overpass. Most recently, in years from 2003 to 2011. As the story gained popularity thanks to a certain TV show and online, more and more people began harassing the locals and vandalizing the tunnel.

The stories of the supernatural crimes popped up all over the county and far beyond. As far as the most Northern regions of the state. The bunny was either destroying someone’s property or harassing some random kids. Always with a knife or a hatchet. To say the least, over the next four weeks following the initial 1970 incident, the police got 50 calls from the locals. Everyone stating that the bunny man has attacked them or their house in some gruesome way. The more articles were written in the newspapers, the more prank calls from local kids the policemen received. To the point, they just gave the full case to the federal government.

Some people say the legend goes even further, to the bridge’s construction. Jamie, one of the poor enforced workers, fell off into the cement and rocks. His bones holding the construct standing up to this date. His property.

What do the documents say? There is only one related paper in the police department. It is about the guy destroying the new-built porch. No mentions of an individual called Benett. As in any other place, Fairfax has some ferocious murders, but nothing out of the typical-cases-range.

A month ago, I got lucky to pay a visit to Washington with my father. Probably the most American name for a city ever. It's fair for it to be the capital. I spent a few hours to visit the Fairfax myself. It’s refreshing to be in the Atlantic states. Oh, the architecture. I forgot how it feels to live so "comparatively" close to the coast, though the roads are boring for my taste. Not a huge fan of the wooded trails.

I should mention, I also did not expect this hell-cursed place to be so close to the local urban aglomeration. Literally one of the most known cities in the world.

I have never had to interview people like this before, so I reached the infamous bridge and drove down the nearby country roads, trying to simultaneously not go too far from the location and approach local settlements. I did not knock on any doors - only approached people who were already outside, in their enormous front yards. Like a creep walking up to them and asking about crimes half a century old. Fortunately, the harshest reaction I got was a few eyerolls. It feels like people just moved on from this. Whatever it was at all.

Hope, this a treat for my fans.

Here are some conversations I would like to share:

This guy lived with his wife in a big rural cottage.

A guy in his 60s living alone.

An old lady I caught on the bench, relaxing in the sun.