When I was about 7 or 8 myself, 2 brothers and my mother, moved into a Pub called 'Bricklayers arms'. My brothers shared a room and I had my own. There was a cellar down stairs and a guest room 2 doors down from my room. The guest room had a crib in there for some reason, and the cellar was rarely used.
When I was 8 my brother was cleaning my room (because I was going to make him a pizza for doing that) and about 5 minutes later he ran out of my room with a pale face and crying, I asked him why he was crying and he said that a book came off the shelf and slammed on the floor right in front of him. I didn't take much notice of his story. That night I had the light off and I was lying in bed and all of a sudden I heard a dragging of chains on the roof, or attic. It went on all night, I was terrified. I heard windows rattling when it was not windy, creaking like a body hanging off the ceiling, tapping on windows. I felt scared in and around the guest room and the bathroom, and felt depressed when near those rooms.
A few weeks later my mother's new boyfriend brought his daughter over and she slept in my room, she was into spiritual stuff and at the time I was too, and I still am. So as silly kids we both said "If there is anyone in the room, please give us a sign". The windows rattled and my snow globe smashed, we hid under the covers and that was the last thing that happened that night.
After my step dad collapsed and died in the house, we moved out. After we moved out my mother finally told me that someone had committed suicide in my room near the window where I had heard a body swinging.
I am now 40 years old and I can still hear noises in every house I live in.