Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Southern Gothica

Old abandoned farm house I found in Ooltewah, TN. I could not get any closer because of an old fence surrounding it, but this place is particularly creepy looking!




So from the world of spirits there descends A bridge of light, connecting it with this, O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpuf

The spirit world, around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere 
  Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense 
A vital breath of more ethereal air

Near Red Clay (TN)   
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpuf
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpuf
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpuf
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpuf
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpu
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19993#sthash.HGJ7vdqu.dpuf

Monday, November 11, 2013

OLD WOOL MILL



 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. 



Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Bleeding Mausoleum ~

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.



Friday, November 8, 2013

WILDER TOWER <> Chickamauga Battlefield

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 strange incident to occur at Wilder Tower, was in 1976, the year that marked the bicentennial of the battle. Sixty seven years prior to that in 1903, relics and souvenirs of the Civil War had been placed inside the cornerstone structure of the tower, sealed off to all until it was to be reopened for the bicentennial. When they ventured inside to open the stone, oddly enough, all of the contents had vanished! The stone showed no sign of disturbance, but the items had completely disappeared!
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?
A tragic suicide happened more recently back in 2004. I have included the news paper article. Please click to enlarge, and read.
There have been other eerie and haunting occurrences in Chickamauga, and I plan to update this blog with more soon, so check back from time to time.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

SHATTERED HOUSE

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




Tuesday, November 5, 2013

BLYTHE FERRY & CHEROKEE TRAIL OF TEARS


Around 1809, William Blythe, a Cherokee, established a ferry at this site to provide transportation for the settlers to the west, and the Cherokee to the east. During 1838 Trail of Tears, it was an important crossing, and it played a military role during the Civil War. Blythe Ferry continues until replaced by a bridge in 1994. The first picture of the plaque will remind all who read this, of the horrible inhumane acts committed toward the Cherokee nation. 


An Indian Prayer
I give you this one thought to keep,
I'm with you still. I do no sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still, in each new dawn.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand there at my grave an cry
I am not there, I did not die.





Once Upon a Warm Home

This quint abandoned home is located in Birchwood, I would love to know the story of those who shared love and family here. Another day, I may venture inside, but I sometimes feel like I'm invading into peoples pasts, but what can we learn from them, is what I seek. 
  
Empty houses gone to seed
empty kitchens with no one to feed
where once was laughter, spiders spin
forgotten dreams ... an off key song
no cat in the window... everyone's gone
where sheets once danced on a line
the tire swing replaced by poison vine
wildflowers where the roses grew
where is the family that loved and knew
where sunlight painted a bright design
floors once swept now warped with time
the slap of a screen door, the shout of a child
little secrets and presents piled
but daffodils still bloom in spring
robins, wrens, and bluebirds sing
do ghosts knit sweaters or answer the phone
do ghosts light candles when they are alone
abandoned houses, forgotten lives
the house sits empty, nobody's home






LOST REQUIEM WORSHIP







Abandoned buildings
Made to undress
In the wilderness
See forth a cue.

Another requiem
Passes through their walls
Stripped by dust.

Wandering spirits
Roam and stutter
Around echoing voices
Left by souls
Residing somewhere
In structures
Time forgotten
Years and years ago


-Dennis Go



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