The (Mis)adventures of Jyl: Bunny Man Bridge

Jyl takes us to Virginia where some bunny waits for you in the dark.

Welcome back, misadventurers. This week, we’re heading to Virginia or something that feels on-theme for spring, even if it was definitely not approved by the Easter Bunny’s marketing team. Because nothing says springtime fun like a man in a rabbit costume terrifying people near a tunnel. Let’s talk about Bunny Man Bridge.

Officially, it’s the Colchester Overpass in Clifton, Virginia. It’s a small, narrow underpass on a quiet road through the woods. If you didn’t know it was there, you could drive right past it without thinking twice. And honestly, during the day, there’s not much to think about. It looks like exactly what it is. It’s a little worn down, nothing remarkable. No flashing neon sign that says BAD DECISIONS THIS WAY (note to self, I need this on a t-shirt). But like a lot of places we end up talking about here, the story is what changed it.

The legend of the Bunny Man has been floating around Fairfax County since the 1970s, and like most local legends, it depends entirely on who’s telling it and how committed they are to ruining your evening. Some versions say he was an escaped patient from a nearby asylum. Others say he was a local man who snapped. Sometimes he has an axe. Sometimes there are dead rabbits involved, which is so rude and very bad for the whole springtime branding effort. The details shift, but the core idea stays the same. A person in a bunny suit, seen near the bridge, acting threatening enough to make sure nobody was ever going to look at a rabbit the same way again.

And here’s the part that gives the story teeth. There really were reports in the 1970s of a man in a bunny costume threatening people in the area. It wasn’t supernatural nor folklore. Just a real person making choices so bizarre that decades later we are still talking about him. Once a story gets even one foot in reality, the rest tends to take care of itself.

Over time, the bridge became the center of the legend. People started tying every strange detail to that one spot. Then came the extras. The axe. The warnings. The idea that if you stop under the bridge at night and linger too long, something might notice you. This has, naturally, made it a favorite destination for people who hear “local murder legend” and think it sounds like a fun little evening plan. And to be fair, the setting does a lot of the work. The underpass is tight. The road dips just enough to make your headlights create strange shadows. The woods around it are dense enough to feel a little claustrophobic once the daylight starts to wane. Sounds echo more than you expect. It’s the kind of place where your brain starts filling in gaps whether you asked it to or not.

And then there’s the whole bunny man part of it, which really pushes this whole thing from standard local legend into absolute nightmare fuel. Bunnies are supposed to be adorable. They belong to spring; to candy and those aggressively cheerful spring holiday displays that show up in stores the second Valentine’s Day clocks out. But make one human-sized, put it in a creepy bunny costume near a dark roadside tunnel, hand it an axe, and that’s what makes Bunny Man Bridge stick.

So, if you’re looking for a nice drive with just enough local legend to be genuinely creepy, this is a great choice. And whether the story has been exaggerated over the years or not, the bridge is still there, sitting quietly in the woods and letting your imagination do all the heavy lifting. Which, as always, is how the best haunted places get to you.

Jyl Glenn is a writer, editor, formatter, anthologist, poet, and a medical-legal writer and consultant. Her lifelong love affair with horror began at a very early age when she was left unattended on the weekend Poltergeist debuted on HBO. And then she figured out she could read any horror book she liked as long as she hung out at the public library, even if the librarian deemed it not to be age appropriate. Jyl was born and raised in New York and now lives in Tulsa with her dog and cat. She loves creepy art, dark poetry, and pink dinosaurs. When she isn’t dabbling in the macabre—she’s most likely asleep.

PLEASE NOTE: The views and opinions of the staff of Memento Mori Ink do not necessarily represent those of Memento Mori Ink or Crystal Lake Publishing. Thank you for understanding.