When my mother moved to another country, I then had to go live with my aunt. I slept in a 'storage room'. My bed was between a washing machine (at my head side) and a large old wooden clothes cabinet. At night when everyone was asleep, the house was completely dark. Not a single light was left on. My 'bedroom' was illuminated by a street light across the street and that suited me just fine. One night I woke up. I didn't know what time it was, but it must have been after 12:00 am. The house was completely dark and so was my room! The street light was out.
I was awakened by a sound coming from behind me (I laid on my back, facing the clothing cabinet). It was a crackling sound, like when you squeeze a plastic bag. I figured maybe a mouse or so was on the washing machine, walking over a plastic bag, so I turned on my belly to face the washing machine. As soon as I turned, the sound stopped. I stretched out my hand to feel on top of the washing machine, but there was nothing on it. I turned to get back to sleep and the sound started again. I turned on my belly: it stopped at once. This went one for a while, I was scared, but I eventually fell asleep.
The next night I woke up again. The street light was still out, the room was pitch black. The same sound woke me up, with the same 'turning/stopping' routine. At one point I refused to turn anymore, so I kept on my back hearing the sound behind me. I was too scared to get up and leave the room or call anybody: my aunt and I weren't the best of friends. When I kept ignoring the sound, it got louder and louder, filling up the whole room. Then it abruptly stopped. It was silent for a few minutes but then the unthinkable happened: the doors of the clothes cabinet started to squeak! It was an old rusty door which made a squeaking sound when opening it up. The door wasn't actually opening, you just heard the sound. And I didn't need to turn to see where the sound came from, I was facing it! I started trembling, I lay really still, my eyes shut tight. I fell asleep eventually. The next night the street lights were on again, my room was well lit. The noises did not occur again.
I never told my aunt about it, but I always wondered what happened those two nights.