A Hanna Family Ghost Story

In the shadows of a sleepy branch gully outside of Johnsonville, where the echoes of history whisper through the ancient trees and across the rustling tobacco fields, the Hanna family's story has unfolded for generations. Thomas and Nekoda Hanna, descendants of the legendary Hugh Hanna who marched south with General Greene in the American Revolution, carved their existence into the land that echoed with the footsteps of Hanna forebears.  Before that, the same land was heavily trod by native peoples who left thousands of arrowheads and other talismans of their presence.  The Hannas toiled tirelessly to make a living on this land - the custodians of fertile soil exposed by clearcutting forestland by hand.

Thomas and Nekoda's homestead near The Branch

They build a small cabin-style home near a gully they called "the branch." Thomas carved his and Nekoda's initials into at least one support beam under the new home.  One legend held that the bricks forming the foundation pillars once served as ballast for ships arriving in America.  This land owned by old Hugh, the first Hanna in the area, bore a silent witness to the familial tales that unfolded across generations as if springing from the soil itself.

Thomas and Nekoda's family burgeoned in the late 1800s as they welcomed sons Bubba, Arles, Pete, and one daughter - Lucille.  More space became a necessity and larger 2-story home soon rose across the field from their small cabin as a proud testament to the family's hard work and modest prosperity. Hanna family's growth. Little did they know that the tendrils of the supernatural would weave through the timeworn walls of the newer abode, casting an eerie specter over the household and surrounding land.  

Nekoda Altman Hanna and Thomas Hanna

The presence first manifested in the form of heavy, thudding footsteps that echoed through both floors of the house. The Hannas, unable to escape the palpable weight of the unseen entity, christened it The Walking Boss—a name that captured the ominous nature of the ghostly visitor. The phantom walked with a deliberate cadence, a spectral guardian patrolling the corridors in the shroud of darkness.  The haunting routine played out with unsettling regularity. If a family member found themselves alone downstairs, the footsteps materialized above, a disconcerting reminder that they were never truly alone. The Hannas, fueled by a blend of curiosity and trepidation, embarked on futile chases, attempting to unravel the mystery of the elusive Walking Boss. Yet, the specter eluded their grasp, slipping away like a phantom into the recesses of the house.

Vonnie Hanna Dukes, daughter of Arles Hanna, looks distant as she remembers the stories her elders told of the spectral symphony. She recounted the tale of an upstairs bedroom, a chamber tainted by the paranormal. The door, stubbornly resistant to earthly constraints, defied every attempt to remain latched. Regardless of the methods employed to secure it, the door swung free, creaking open with ghostly insistence. It stood as a portal to the unknown, an invitation for the supernatural forces to seep into the Hanna abode.

Pete Hanna (right) pictured with a friend (center) and
brother Arles Hanna (left) in 1918, claimed to chase
the Walking Boss from tree to tree.

The Walking Boss soon moved beyond mere auditory disturbances and rebellious doors; it sought direct interaction with the living. Thomas and his sons frequently drove their mule cart through the hollow known as "the branch." With its gnarled, damp trees and whispering breezes, the branch set the stage for a new interaction with the presence.  Thomas's sons spoke of a spectral hitchhiker that joined them on the darkest evenings. The unseen weight, a silent companion, hopped on the cart rode along with the men through the inky depths of the night.   The air in the branch crackled with a mysterious energy as the Hannas traversed the winding paths, the unseen presence joining them like a shadow.

Arles Hanna, a stoic and hardworking man accustomed to the quiet solitude of the tobacco barns during curing season, found himself ensnared in the web of the supernatural. As he sought solace in the peaceful embrace of a nap, the pillow beneath his head was yanked away with a force that defied explanation. Startled awake, he found himself alone in the cavernous barn, the ghostly culprit remaining unseen but undeniably present.

Yet, among the family members who shared tales of the Walking Boss, one stood out as a unique witness to the ethereal specter—Pete Hanna, the youngest of the 3 sons. Pete, a brave and wild boy with a penchant for the unknown, claimed to have chased the elusive spirit from tree to tree in the twilight. The ghost, a phantom dancer in the fading light, teased Pete with its ethereal presence, forever just out of reach and beyond physical description.

The family's saga took a tragic turn in the 1930s when the home, once a sanctuary and a source of the earliest encounters, succumbed to the ravages of fire. The flames danced through the decades-old dwelling, reducing it to smoldering ruins that echoed with the tormented whispers of the Walking Boss. Amidst the ashes, a few family possessions survived, each one carrying the weight of the inferno's embrace. Nekoda's wedding ring, a charred survivor, stood as a poignant relic pulled from the ruins.  To this day it is a prized family treasure along with Nekoda's writing desk. 

Bubba Hanna and his wife Lillian built their home
(seen in back) at the site of the Hanna home that burned.

The fire was a destructive force that devoured the tangible remains of the Hanna household, but it could not extinguish the lingering presence of the Walking Boss. Bubba Hanna and his wife Lillian built a new house on the site of the burned family home, ushering in new life to the abandoned spot.  Some family members, even in the wake of the inferno, claimed to still hear the haunting footsteps echoing through the remnants of the farm. The supernatural tendrils, it seemed, were immune to the passage of time, forever imprinted on the land that bore witness to the Hanna legacy.

The location of the old homestead is a place tinged with the scars of fire, foundations of tobacco barns long gone, and the echoes of ghostly tales.  But it is also a place of new life once again; great grandchildren now host family gatherings at a new barn and life has once again returned to the farm.

The Hanna descendants carry with them the memories of the family's spectral encounters, and thus the legend of the Walking Boss persists.  It is a reminder of a time when the mundane life of a small farm crossed paths with the supernatural. The family speaks of the haunted homestead with a hushed reverence, acknowledging the presence as one might matter-of-factly discuss a prodigal relative.  The hollow of the branch, with its damp twisted trees, remains a place where the past still whispers it's secrets to the present in a dance of shadows.