Many years ago when my children were not but three and four years old I purchased a small house out on a country road with a cemetary directly behind us and a mental hospital just down the street about a mile, but being that this area was rather populated with trees and dark brush  I had no knowledge of the grave yard and did'nt give the mental hospital a second thought, although i did know of it and had even visited some one there in years prior to me purchasing the house. By just the looks of this small cottage of a house you would not geuss the history of tragic events that surrounded the it as well as the property, the house was built in 1908 by a school teacher and his family, a wife and one young son whom was their only child due to the mother being very ill in child birth, now keep in mind i live in Chattanooga, Tn where southern tradition is the law of the land so to speak, and back in the days of the school teacher and his family residing there it was normal practice if some one were to die, a home funeral was the tradition. Turns out some time after the school masters son turned ten years of age he and his freinds, oh by the way, the boys name was Mcheal, were playing from a rope thet was suspended in the air and attached to a rather sturdy tree limb, a loop was placed at the end of the rope for the boys to jump up grab a hold of and swing there selfs out into a pile of freshly raked leaves, now no one knows how exactly it happened or why but some how Micheal managed to get that rope rapped tightly around his little kneck, older neighborhood boys whom at the time had been playing with Micheal claim to not have been present at the time of this ghastly event, Micheals mother found him when she went out of the home into the back yard where this tree stood to hang laundry from a make shift clothing line she used weekly, to her horror, her one and only beloved son was dead and rumors were spoken in hushed whispers as to the whys and hows and whats of the whole mess, Micheals body was brought home to be laid out out in his oak casket and  in his sundays best clothes in the parlor for freinds and family to say their goodbyes....now go forward in time to the year 1990, that was the year I purchased the house from hell, i've so much to share with you readers out there but not today, more will be posted under "Do you believe in ghost", and at least once a week or possibly every other day, i'll share more of my true ghost stories, until then, happy hauntings