For nearly seventy-five years, strange phenomena have been witnessed in the Carter House–phantom footsteps, mysterious bloodstains, chilling apparitions. Within its walls, numerous hair-raising incidents have taken place.
Things started during the first half of the twentieth century, when the house was owned by Evan Cane, a member of one of the most respected families in the county. For a number of reasons that will be revealed as this story unfolds, Cane was considered the black sheep of the family. Local gossip was that he operated a moonshine still along the banks of the creek in back of the property.
When the authorities were tipped off about the still, they began to look for its owner. Before Evan Cane could be questioned, he decided to end his life. While sitting at the kitchen table one day, the troubled man put a loaded pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. That evening, Cane’s son came home from his job to find his father sitting in a chair. When he patted his father on the shoulder, the lifeless corpse fell to the floor, and blood poured out of his wound on to the oak boards. Friends speculated that Evan Cane took his life in order to avoid a prison sentence and to spare his family embarrassment and shame.
Following his death, the house passed from the ownership of the Cane family. Almost immediately after they moved in, the new owners began to hear inexplicable sounds in various parts of the residence. The stately structure soon acquired a reputation as a haunted house. All of the subsequent owners reported supernatural occurrences.
One recent set of owners, the Dick Carter family, has documented a number of spooky incidents. Not long after Mr. and Mrs. Carter took up residence in the rambling dwelling, they were intrigued that the kitchen door leading to the back porch would not stay closed. Each time the family sat down for a meal, the closed door would mysteriously spring open. It was as if an unseen entity were making an entrance.
There was something else about the kitchen that the Carters quickly learned: a dark stain was prominent at the very spot where Evan Cane had killed himself many years before. Although Mrs. Carter could not tell whether the mysterious stain was blood, paint, or some other substance, she discovered that it could not be permanently removed, despite her repeated efforts. When the Carters renovated the house, they decided to cover the sinister spot with tile.
But there have been other bizarre happenings that the owners were unable to hide. Strange footsteps in the second- and third-floor bedrooms have been heard by occupants of the first-floor den when there was no other person in the house. At other times, family members retiring to their second-floor chambers have heard the ominous sounds of someone or something pacing very lightly without shoes on the third floor. On occasion, family members have been startled from a deep sleep by footsteps in the kitchen. Brave souls have left the safety and comfort of their beds to search for the source of the noise, but nothing has ever been found. For lack of a better explanation, the Carters believe that it could be the spirit of Evan Cane tracing his final steps before the suicide.
Although Mr. and Mrs. Carter have never seen a ghost in the house, a former resident told them of a terrifying apparition. Mrs. Louise Herbert related the incident when she stopped by her old home to admire the renovations being made to it. When the Carters mentioned their unnerving experiences, Mrs. Herbert acknowledged that the house might be haunted by a second ghost. On one occasion, when Mrs. Herbert’s infant granddaughter and the child’s mother spent the night at the house, the little girl began crying in the wee hours of the morning. After a considerable time, the wailing did not subside, so Mrs. Herbert arose from bed, turned on the light in the hall, and quietly entered the adjacent bedroom, where she supposed her daughter-in-law was still asleep. To her surprise, the child’s mother was lying in her bed wide awake. Mrs. Herbert asked why she had not attended to the needs of the baby. The young woman had a look of terror in her eyes. Her lips quivering with every word, she stammered, “There was a woman with long blond hair standing over there looking at me. When you turned the light on, she vanished.”
After learning of this frightening incident, Mrs. Carter made further inquiries into the history of the house and its former occupants. From that investigation came information that Evan Cane had been having an affair with a local trollop at the time he took his life. The woman lived nearby with her illegitimate son. As Mrs. Carter delved further into the mystery, she learned that Evan Cane was speculated to have killed himself as a result of the mistaken impression that his mistress was carrying his child. Could it be that the ghost of this loose woman has taken residence here with the ghost of her lover?
Fortunately, no one has been physically harmed by the weird happenings in the Carter House. Apparently, the resident spirits have no malevolent intent. But the disconcerting sights and sounds will no doubt continue to scare residents and guests.
There is a moral to this story. Should you be in the market to purchase a house, particularly an old one, be sure to check into its history. Otherwise, you may be forced to share space with the ghostly inhabitants of one of the many haunted houses found throughout North Carolina.
ANSON COUNTY
The cave at Indian Rock
If the devil doesn’t exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Geographers and historians have often referred to Bladen County as the “Mother of Counties” in North Carolina, since so many of the state’s one hundred counties were created from land that once fell within Bladen’s boundaries. Perhaps a more appropriate nickname would be “Grandmother of Counties,” for it was Bladen’s first child, Anson County, that gave birth to all of the counties in the western half of the state. Established in 1750 as the fifteenth county in the colony, Anson once stretched westward from Bladen to the Mississippi River and included all of what is now the state of Tennessee. Now greatly reduced in size, the modern county covers 536 square miles.
Historians believe that the first white settler put down roots in the area now encompassed by Anson in 1740. Prior to that time, this land was the domain of the Catawba Indians. And so, in this ancient county, it is fitting that Anson’s oldest haunted spot should be associated with its Indian residents of long ago.
Approximately three and a half miles northeast of the county seat of Wadesboro, NC 742 crosses Gould’s Fork Creek. Located not far from the highway bridge in an almost inaccessible location is a small, spooky cave that has been the site of strange happenings and bizarre tales since the arrival of Anson’s first permanent settlers.
Catawba hunting parties in search of shelter are said to have carved the cavern out of solid rock. In its dark, damp, creepy interior is a single room. It measures roughly eight by ten feet and has enough clearance for a man of average height to walk in relative comfort. Strange markings—not the usual graffiti—are on the walls. Odd-shaped holes in the cavern are said to have held the peace pipes of the Indians.
While camping here, the Catawbas reportedly buried gold on the surrounding property. As a result, the adjacent landscape is pockmarked with many holes—evidence of the treasure hunting that has gone on here. As far as anyone knows, none of the precious metal hidden by the Indians has ever been found. And for good reason. Few people who have mustered the courage to venture to this ominous place have lingered long, for phantom voices emanate from the vicinity of the cave. The strange voices are said to belong to Indian spirits who gather at the site to discuss their gold.
A man whose house stood nearby refused to rebuild his dwelling in the mid-1950s after the original structure burned. Instead, he chose to live elsewhere because of the frightening voices coming from the Indian Rock, as the cave is known locally.
There is more to the legend. After the Catawbas