When I lived in
Cleveland, TN for a short time, I used to pass by this worn down phantom of
the early Industrial Revolution era. I found out
it is most often referred to by locals as the Old Wool Mill. Founded in
1880 by C.L. Hardwicke, this mill was the creators of such fashion
known then as the dollar pants, of wool and jean cloth. Barely surviving
the Depression era of the 1930's, and emerging from the financial
strains to produce fabric for military uniforms during WWII. This
industrial mill also survived through several fires in the turn of the
century. It is a building that has now been vandalized beyond
recognition from its golden era as American Industry pioneers. Walking
passed it always gives me a sad feeling, and I cannot help but to
imagine a ghost from the past looking through the shattered windows into
a new world. 
In the church yard of St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Cleveland, TN there holds a sad tale and the mausoleum with a peculiar legend. On October 21, 1871 a late night carriage ride went horribly wrong, resulting in a tragic death. On this fateful night, a Grandfather took his granddaughter, Nina, out for a carriage ride as a sweet surprise. Crossing the rail road tracks running through the town, the carriage got stuck, and would not budge. Just as this happened, a train was running through, and without warning could not stop in time to save little Nina's 
life. The Grandfather lived, but Nina died an untimely death, and her final resting place is forever there in the church yard. Guilt stricken, her Grandfather wanted nothing but the best for Nina, and imported Italian white marble to build her vault. The legend behind this tragic tale, can be seen by onlookers even today. At the arch way of the mausoleum, there are patches and streaks of red with unknown origins. They cannot be scrubbed away, nor are caused by any chemical component. It is said to be haunted, and the redness, is reported to be blood. See for yourself. 
This is Wilder Tower, an 85 foot high monument in Chickamauga
Battlefield in Chickamauga, GA, the oldest military park in U.S.
History. Chickamauga was one of the most bloodiest battles in the Civil
War, and there have been numerous unexplained happenings in this
battlefield, especially around Wilder Tower, including suicide and near death. Chickamauga in the Cherokee language means 'River of Death',
and I venture to say, the occurrences here precedes its name. I
happened to visit Wilder Tower in the evening, at dusk, as the sun was
rapidly setting. I was the only one around, all except for about five
deer grazing in the field, and a deep chill was in the air. They close
the park around sundown, and I was lucky to capture the photographs,
before the park ranger had closed the door to Wilder Tower for the
night. After you read these reports, it'll come very clear why they
close the rod iron door to Wilder Tower at sundown. These reports have
been varified from various news sources, but it isn't for the faint of
heart, so a small warning: the details are DISTURBING!
One man had a life altering terrifying experience in 1970.The
young man decided to climb the tower after dark. As I had said, they
close the tower at dark, but this didn’t stop the man, as he instead
climbed the lightning rod which was fixed the back of the tower. He then
slipped
into a gun slot which was placed about 14 feet off the ground. He went
inside
and ran up the steps to the top, where he called to his friends, who
were about
50 feet away drinking beer. Suddenly, the young people outside heard a
scream from inside
of the tower. Panicked the boy ran down the winding staircase and
quickly jumped
out of the small window from which he had entered the tower.... or so he
thought. Instead, he fell about 25 feet onto solid concrete and although
he
survived, was paralyzed for the rest of his life. Who, or what do you
think made that scream? 
This next place I came across, quite accidentally, is so restless and has an aura of vicious turmoil within the ghostly walls and dark hallways crippled with decay and sinking floors of filth. My eyes beheld this house, and under deep apprehension, I let my courage lead me thru the pathway littered with shards of glass, twisting vines, and wild weeds dieing from Autumn air. Everything about this house felt odd and images of suffering conjured inside my mind. The house suffered enough, left away to decay into the landscape, nature claiming all it could, but not stepping foot inside the front door. I was careful on the front steps, going up 4 shaky stairs, and then up to what was the front porch. The door was left open, as if welcoming me to step in. The wooden floors had given way to holes in some places, ate away by time, and I stood in the doorway thinking 'if I go in, I may fall inside', but I took the chance. The living room was littered with assortments of unimportance, except for two items. A teddy bear had been left, the bear face on the floor, dirty from dust and weather. A child's play race car was left as well, scarred in the same way as the teddy, scarred like the house. The doors were warped, bending in ways I didn't know a door could bend, holes punched in the walls, darkness around the corner leading to the bedrooms, it was too ominous and my heart couldn't chance to walk through. I walked through the living room, into the doorway of the kitchen, cabinets all left open, as if ghosts had flown them open out of rage. Window pains shattered, shadows from picture frames remained on the wall. A dark presence was in that place, and I do not think I'll go back. 
I give you this one thought to keep,
where once was laughter, spiders spin
little secrets and presents piled
