My home is in Surrey, England. It's a three story, semi-detached in a nice neighbourhood. The land's believed to have been used as farmland. The house dates back to 1930s.
When I was a kid, I had the big bedroom at the back, with the nicest view over the garden. I had a cabin bed and on one of the days when I'd climbed the ladder and sat up at the top, resting my feet on the top rungs, and just sitting still, feeling peaceful, a sound started. It made me sit still and listen. It was the sound of a pair of boots treading over the floorboards. They trod back and forth over the floor and it sounded like bare floorboards, not like the thin red carpet that was there. They sounded like heavy boots too, I felt like I could imagine it was a man pacing over the floor, over and over again; the floor creaked under him. I could hear his breathing too now: it was heavy and irregular like he was angry or distressed. I even held my breath and kept really still, and still I could hear him. I lost it after a few minutes, jumped off the cabin bed and ran to my dad who was working in the bathroom. He's the kind of guy that's rational and simply said my sister had said the same kind of thing when she was younger.
Nowadays, the house is haunted by a lot more... Mum says her old cat is still hanging around while sometimes my little old cat brushes up behind my legs when I'm in the kitchen or will dash past an open doorway so I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She was a black and white cat so was very distinctive when she does that.