Legends
Attractions
Dates & Times
Tickets
Directions
Contact


We found two stories from this period of North Carolina history. The first is the transcription of an affidavit by a soldier in the Continental Army, the second is a letter to Col. Jack Martin, the original owner of the Rock House in Surry County.

A Soldier's Tale

 

Note: "(?)" and "_____" denote unreadable text in the original documents

(August 24, 1821)
On this day Elijah Coker personally appeared before Samuel Mark an acting justice of the peace for Harlan County Kentucky. Elijah Coker a resident of yellow creek in the county of Harlan and state of Kentucky aged 73 years who being first duly sworn according to law doth on his oath make the following declaration to claim as fact the occurrences in the County of Surrey on or about the 14th of April 1778.

Declaration

1st .I was born in Brunsia(?) County state of N. Carolina I do not know the year in which I was born

2nd. I have no record of my age - and my recollection of what my parents have told me is very imperfect - I know I volunteered before I was 16 and performed that tour

3. 1 was living in Surrey county N. Carolina when called into the service - after the revolution I moved to Laurens county S. Carolina and lived there 22 years - thence to Franklin City Georgia - thence to Liv______ (?) Tennessee - thence to yellow creek now Harlan County where I have lived off and on about 17 years

I volunteered in the militia of North Carolina in Surrey County in the year 1778 as well as I remember for a tour of three months under William Shepherd Col John Horn(?) Capt Thomas Coker a cousin of mine Leut John Harper Ensign(?) we rendezvoused(?) at Surrey Court house we marched thence into Wilks county - thence into Rowan - thence to Guilford our business in this tour was to disarm, and suppress the Tories - we returned to Surrey after this tour and continued there actively engaged with our regiment.

I am not a believer in ghosts, or ever gave much stock in ghost stories. But the horror I lived through that April night has changed me.

Here follows my account of the events of the 14th of April.

We had not encountered a single Indian for several days. This was remarked as unusual by George Celton, our guide. This area was indeed very peaceful and without trouble.

Then we changed our course--left the river and followed a bottom, where the Lord brought us to a delicious spring and good pasturage on a chestnut ridge. He sent us, also, at this juncture two deer, which were most acceptable additions to our larder. The next day we came to a creek so full of rocks that we could not possibly cross it, and on both side were such precipitous banks that scarcely a man, and certainly no horse, could climb them. Here we took some refreshments, for we were weary. But our horses had nothing--absolutely nothing; this pined us inexpressibly. Directly came a hunter who had climbed a hillside and had seen a large meadow. Thereupon we scrambled down to the water, dragged ourselves along the steepness of the hills and came before night into a plain.

This caused rejoicing for men and beasts. We pitched our tent, but scarcely had we finished when such a fierce wind storm burst upon us that we could scarcely protect ourselves against it. I cannot remember that I have ever in winter anywhere encountered so hard or so cold a wind. The ground was soon covered with snow ankle deep, and the water froze for us aside the fire. Our people became thoroughly disheartened. Our horses would certainly perish and we with them.

The storm continued until the moon was high over our heads. Then as sudden as the storm began it ceased, followed by a stillness that made us fearful and we huddled close together. There was no bird nor beast to make a sound. Our horses stood still and alert, they were nervous but made no motion. After a while, we began to ease our fear, and began to talk in low whispers. At the edge of the wood we could see dim shapes in the moonlight. We could not determine if they were man or beast, but they were larger than most game, and Pvt. James Cast was sent to scout the woods with Pvt. George Celton and Corp. Robert Mason. The rest of our group remained ready, with our rifles cocked. The group made their way through the high grass that bounds the meadow, holding their rifles high. Robert Mason was heard to scream, and as I could discern, he appeared to drop directly from sight, as if he fell into a large well. We heard but one other cry from Mason before the silence overtook our group. Both George Celton and James Cast stood as still as wood. We all were watching the shapes at the edge of the wood. They had not ventured any closer to our group or closer to our scouts. We did not move for several minutes. Then James Cast began screaming. He turned began to run towards our camp calling for help from the beasts that were chasing him. In the full moonlight we could not see anything following him as he ran back towards our camp. George Celton remained still, as if he had turned to stone, watching James Cast as he ran. I cannot relate the shock as James Cast dropped from sight not fifty feet ahead of us, as if he too had been swallowed by the earth itself.

We began to fire our rifles in several directions. At the space where James Cast once stood, at the edge of the forest where the shapes still stood, at the tops of the trees where Corp. Samuel Blaine claimed he had seen a large animal. Our Captain, John Horn ordered us to cease fire and called to George Celton to return to our camp. He remained still and did not obey Captain Horn's command. The captain commanded myself and Blaine to go out and get Celton to bring him back and if possible, retrieve Mason and Cast.

We did not want to leave camp. We were fearful to our mortal souls what creatures may watching us and what they might do if we were caught. We took extra pistols and kept our rifles ready as we slowly moved out of camp. We passed where James Cast disappeared, and could see a black spot where he once stood, in the center was his rifle and powder. We did not attempt to retrieve either, but kept moving towards George Celton. We could see an opening in the grass where Robert Mason was lost, but we did not get any closer to it. We went slowly to where Celton stood, motionless. We made several low calls to him, but he did not respond. We were watching the shapes at the edge of the woods. They would only occasionally move very slowly, and never attempted to venture into the meadow.

Samuel Blaine was the first to approach George Celton as he was a few paces ahead, and reached out to touch him. Samuel choked back a scream. He turned to me trembling with a look of terror so complete it sent a chill through me colder than any winter storm. In two more steps I saw what had terrified Samuel. It was poor George himself. His feet were roots that went deep into the ground, his hands, still clutching his rifle, were showing small leaves. As God as my witness, I tell the truth, George Celton had changed into a tree. He still had the expression of a man who had seen the devil himself frozen on what was his face.

Samuel recovered from his shock and began to mumble that we had to run, and escape the sure death of this night. I tried to calm him without success. He began to run screaming, his rifle in one hand, his hat in the other. He didn't get three steps away when he began to scream for mercy and dance in a circle as if his feet were in hot coals. Then, in the blink of an eye, he dropped through the ground out of sight. He disappeared as if he had tried to stand on water. Only a black, burned place remained on the ground as testament to his existence. His rifle, powder and pistols were lying on the blackened ground next to his hat. I stood motionless, unsure what course of action to take. I looked at the edge of the woods where I saw one of the shapes move out into the moonlight. I only could make out an arm motioning me to come to them. I turned to run back to our camp but before I took a single step, I saw my friends screaming and running in all directions, rifles firing at the ground and in the air. One by one they disappeared from sight. I could not help myself, I began to move slowly back towards the woods, and towards the shapes. Once at the edge, strong hands pulled me into the shadows. I could see they were Cherokee, sometimes friendly to the English. They held me down and put their hands over my mouth to stop my screaming. Soon all was still, a quiet darker than a coffin. In a while I began to calm myself, and they released me, yet still motioning for silence. I looked back to my camp and could see no one, no fire, no tents, no horses or mules - nothing. My new companions pulled me further into the forest to where they had made a small camp, and offered me their food. I could not eat, but sat and stared into the darkness, still fearful of what had happened to my friends.

I did not sleep that night, and feared dawn more than the silence. The Indians slept deeply and did not appear to mind that I could not. As dawn approached and light filled the bottom, I ventured to edge of the meadow to see if I could find any of my comrades. All I could find was the tree that was poor George, all else had been erased as if it had never existed. I was the only one to survive the night. I began to step into the meadow when a strong hand pulled me back. I turned to find the Cherokee awake and motioning me to remain. One took an arrow and shot it into poor George. I swear to all that is holy, I heard a muffled scream, then saw a reddish sap wind its way down the trunk below the arrow.

I fell to the ground and began to cry and shake horribly for a long time. My new companions made no attempt to console me, but stood by in respect and waited. After a while, they raised me up and we began to silently walk towards Pilot Mountain, making our way around the meadow where my entire troop had vanished. There was nothing left of my comrades save one small tree.

We traveled together for several days. I had no food or water with me, and I was dependant on their kindness to survive. We came to a small house beside a clearing where Mr. Euwell Riley resided. He spoke to the Cherokee braves with a mixture of sign language and odd sounds. The braves signed farewell and left me with Mr. Riley. I did not have the opportunity to thank them properly for their help before they were gone into the woods.

Mr. Riley fed me and gave me several drinks of ale that fortified me. He said the Cherokee know of the place where I lost my friends. It is a forbidden place, where man nor beast dare tread. A cursed place. They call it 'Chickamauga', the field of death. He did not know why this was so, but knew it to be true. And I, also, believe it to be true.

Before God and these United States, I swear that all I have said is true and happened as I have stated herein.

(signed)

Elijah Coker

 

The Letter


Col. Martin,

In accordance to the wishes of my client, may I express the condolences at the recent passing of your nephew, Potter Andrew Crabbe.

As you are surely aware, my client has been attempting to acquire some property from your nephew for more than two years. This property is located northeast of Pilot Mountain consisting of a three room house, small barn, and adjacent property to the west of the house.

My client offers to purchase the estate, including the adjacent property to the west of the house.

Your consideration in this matter is greatly appreciated.

Please respond at your earliest convenience.

(signed)

Rudolf Strickland
Attorney At Law
County of Surrey
State of North Carolina

Legend

 

 

 

 

The Hacker House.   Its THE Haunted House in North Carolina.


Entire contents of website Copyright © 1999-2023 Myth Adventures, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Hacker House® and Screamer logo, Spooktician, Enigma Theatre
are Service and Trademarks of Myth Adventures, Inc.
All rights reserved.